Junior Seau Read online

  Even when he saw the blinking light on his answering machine he didn’t think anything different. People were calling, it turned out, to say they’d heard he needed surgery to repair a damaged meniscus in his knee. TV reports confirmed it. The prognosis was that he could miss as many as six weeks. Junior was stunned. He had missed just two games in his first seven seasons. He was so down that he failed to return any of the calls from family and friends offering support.

  “Even my mother couldn’t reach me,” he said. “I definitely had to come to a reality that I’m going to have to sit and wait this out. To have my wife and people wait on me—I’m not used to it. I’m a guy that loves to run and loves to do a lot of things—have fun, have a good time. But right now there’s a setback in life, and dealing with it is probably going to be the hardest thing for me. It has nothing to do with going out there and playing. It has to do with just walking. It kind of humbles you. It really does.”

  Could he have made a difference in the opener? Probably not, but still, it was clear the Chargers missed their captain. With a week 2 game at New Orleans staring them in the face, there was a sense of dread within the organization about a 0–2 start if Junior didn’t play. The game would mark Mike Ditka’s home debut as coach of the Saints, and everyone knew the Superdome would be amped with excitement.

  No one pressured Junior to play—he was less than two weeks removed from surgery, after all—but it was understood that his presence was needed. He was the life preserver who could keep them from going under. But would he play? Even as the players went through warm-ups for the game, no one was sure. Typical of Junior, he not only played but finished with 11 tackles, one sack, a forced fumble, and a fumble recovery in the 20–6 victory.

  “Junior meant a world of difference,” said veteran newcomer William Fuller. “Like I’ve told you guys before, I looked forward to playing with him. He’s going to give it his all. It’s those instances when you’re tired, and you don’t know if you can go, you turn around and you see him, you see the fire and the desire in him, and it’ll pick you up and let you dig deeper and go a little bit further than you thought you could go. He’s just a fierce competitor. Even though he wasn’t quite 100 percent, at 90 percent he was still going to give you 110 percent.”

  “This guy was wired to the point that he probably had more nerves than the normal person,” Kamau said. “I call these guys neurological geniuses because they could overcome so much. It’s something that you and I can’t understand.”

  His impact began even before the first play from scrimmage. He gathered the players in the locker room and spoke to them about what awaited them and what they needed to do to prevail. The players had heard such a speech countless times before in college, high school, and Pop Warner. The one that focuses on teamwork and playing hard and players are asked to give more even when they feel they have nothing left to give.

  “He talked about a lot of the normal stuff,” Fuller said. “But when Junior says it, you can just see the passion, the love for the game.”

  Predictably, Junior refused to accept credit for doing anything out of the ordinary. “There are pieces to a puzzle, and I’m a big piece to this puzzle,” he said. “Because of that, I’m expected to do the things I did out there whether I’m healthy or not. It worked to our advantage and for me personally. But for me to be the man that revived this team—no, I’m not going to take credit for that.”

  Privately, however, Junior acknowledged the tremendous internal pressure he felt to play . . . and play well.

  “The public are our employers, but they only know a person named Junior that is a winner on the football field,” he wrote afterward in a journal entry to Gina.

  They love the intensity that we play with on every Sunday afternoon; they also love the person because of the perception of a family man. To earn all this is a big accomplishment, but when you need understanding they don’t have time. I leaned on you with all my heart and soul to help guide me back with a positive [result]. To be injured and play average, you are failing in everyone’s eyes. Why? Because we convinced everyone that I’m a player that should win. This week was a do-or-die situation for me.

  Unfortunately for the Chargers, the victory did not jump-start them. They lost their next two games to fall to 1–3. The frustration was palpable within the training complex. Even Junior, who refused to publicly acknowledge negativity, showed signs of cracking—as he did when asked about the defensive scheme under new coordinator Joe Pascale.

  Because of injuries within the linebacking corps, Junior was spending most of his time at middle linebacker, where he was being caught in the congestion that came from dealing with centers and guards. Why not move him on the edge to give him some freedom?

  “I’m just following the scheme,” he said, which was as close to a public second-guessing as you could get from him. “The scheme is to go inside, and that’s what I do.”

  Is that what he preferred?

  “I just follow the scheme,” he said. “I come from wherever they want me to come from.”

  But he acknowledged that more losses would test his patience. “It’s all going to come to a head,” he said.

  The reality was that Junior was frustrated with more than his role on the field. He also was bothered that attempts to reach agreement on a contract extension were going slower than he wanted. His surgery a month earlier had reminded him how quickly a career could end, so he wanted to cash in at least one more time to protect himself.

  Junior was smart when it came to the business of football. He knew he had leverage. The Chargers had just fired a popular and successful coach only to replace him with someone who was now 1–3. The fan base was uneasy, and the last thing the organization wanted was the face of the franchise speaking out against it. So he said just enough to get management’s attention.

  Less than two months later, with the franchise headed toward a 4–12 finish that would match its worst record in six years, Junior signed a $26.1 million extension that included a $6 million signing bonus. The deal made him the league’s highest-paid linebacker with an average salary of $4.5 million a year, and it allayed concerns within the organization that its most visible and talented player might be a problem in trying to turn things around.

  Although the contract brought peace of mind from a financial standpoint, Junior was struggling in his personal life. He was feeling more tension between his wife and his family members in Oceanside, some of whom felt that Gina was guilty of taking him from them. He had become a human rope in an escalating tug-of-war, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to persuade family members that Gina loved him for the person he was rather than the fame and fortune he represented.

  “We let the closet stay closed because of Junior, but she made it very difficult,” said Annette, his younger sister. “When the two of them first met, they used to come visit my parents. But the minute he put a ring on her finger, we hardly saw Junior. The thing that really bugged me the whole time was the fact that she would not communicate with anybody in the family other than me—and the only reason she communicated with me was because of Junior. My husband and I didn’t have kids at the time, so we spent time together with him and Gina. I was cordial toward her because of my brother, but I just didn’t like how she was treating my parents and my brothers and sisters. Junior felt a lot of strain. He tried so hard to have the family barbecues at his La Jolla house, but she wasn’t cordial with the family. She only stayed with her people that she invited. You were able to see it. They would get into arguments because we would stay late.”

  Gina was unlike anyone he had ever dated. And while it would be nonsensical to say that he didn’t love her, it likewise would be foolish to deny that part of the attraction was his belief that she could help him navigate a social world he was completely unfamiliar with—which in turn might erase the perception that he was a “dumb jock” who couldn’t secure a qualifying score on a college entrance exam.

  There appear
ed to be bliss in the early years of the marriage, but the tension between the families was always present. It escalated after Sydney and Jake were born, when some family members believed that Gina was keeping the kids away from Oceanside because she wasn’t comfortable with the area or with them. The only way for the grandparents to spend time with the kids, they said, was for Junior to bring them to Oceanside or for Mom and Dad to visit his home. Complicating matters was that Junior and Gina were having problems of their own. She was becoming increasingly suspicious that he was cheating on her.

  Junior had gone from being a husband who wrote spiritual affirmations of his love on Post-its for Gina to find when she got out of bed to being a husband who was distant and evasive. It became most noticeable after the couple moved from the inland Mount Helix area to the exclusive coastal community of La Jolla. Junior joined La Jolla Country Club and started hanging out at The 19th Hole, the club bar. He was harder to reach by phone and dismissive when home. When he returned from road trips, there were phone numbers from unknown women in his suitcase or his car, as well as handwritten notes and phone numbers from women at his restaurant.

  Junior may not have been searching for trouble, but he was about to find it.

  Junior had five brothers and sisters. This picture, taken in the early 1970s, shows all of them before the birth of Antonio. Back row: Annette, Savaii, Mary, and David. Front row: Junior.

  Bette Hoffman

  Junior had to sit out his first season at USC because he failed to achieve a qualifying score on the entrance exam. He was a reserve most of his sophomore season (his first on the field), then became an All-America in his third season, with 19 sacks and 27 tackles for loss.

  Bette Hoffman

  In 1990, the Chargers selected Junior fifth overall in the NFL draft, fulfilling his boyhood dream of playing for the franchise he grew up supporting. At his introductory press conference with the San Diego Chargers—many of whom he already knew—he was flanked by coach Dan Henning (Junior’s right) and general manager Bobby Beathard (Junior’s left).

  San Diego Chargers

  Junior sat out nearly all of training camp as a rookie because of a contentious contract negotiation. When he did report, it was the week of the final preseason game. He entered late in the first quarter but was ejected after two plays for punching Raiders guard Steve Wisniewski. Here he walks to the sideline after being kicked out of the game.

  San Diego Chargers

  Two years after meeting, Junior and the former Gina DeBoer married in March 1992. The couple had three children before divorcing after a decade of marriage.

  Gina Seau

  Junior consistently led the Chargers in tackles during his 13 seasons. As this image of him striking a Bengals running back shows, he had to be accounted for at all times.

  San Diego Chargers

  Junior Seau holds up the Lamar Hunt Trophy after the New England Patriots defeated the San Diego Chargers 21–12 to win the AFC Championship at Gillette Stadium on January 20, 2008. The win gave the Patriots the first 18–0 record in NFL history and sent them to the fourth Super Bowl in seven years.

  © David Bergman/Corbis

  During a 2001 practice at training camp, Junior collided so forcefully with fullback Fred McCrary that it caused a three-inch crack near the crown of McCrary’s helmet. Later that night Junior told McCrary, “My head is on fire!”

  Jim Trotter

  When the Chargers decided to part ways with Junior, the Dolphins were high on his list because their roster was dotted with Pro Bowlers, which meant he’d finally have another shot at the postseason. It also didn’t hurt that the Dolphins played on grass and in warm weather.

  Miami Dolphins

  Junior had three children with Gina Seau. From left to right: his son Hunter, daughter Sydney, and son Jake.

  Bette Hoffman

  Believing that his career was over, Junior participated in a 2006 retirement ceremony hosted by the Chargers. He refused to say he was retiring, however, telling the large gathering that he was graduating. Four days later he signed with the New England Patriots.

  Mike Norris Photographer

  Junior Seau hugs San Diego Chargers teammate Rodney Harrison after the game against the Kansas City Chiefs at the Qualcomm Stadium in San Diego, California. The Chargers defeated the Chiefs 17–16.

  Stephen Dunn/Getty Images

  Junior Seau talks with head coach Bill Belichick during New England’s 34–17 win over the Cleveland Browns on October 7, 2007.

  AP Photo/Winslow Townson

  Before playing the Chargers in San Diego in October 2008, Patriots owner Robert Kraft and several team members visited Junior at Seau’s The Restaurant, where Kraft presented him with an AFC Championship ring from the previous season. Junior was unsigned at the time of the visit, but rejoined the Patriots later that season.

  Bette Hoffman

  Junior Seau walks off the field as confetti falls after the New York Giants’ 17–14 win in the Super Bowl XLII football game at University of Phoenix Stadium on Sunday, February 3, 2008, in Glendale, Arizona.

  AP Photo/Paul Sancya

  Junior was the emotional heartbeat of every team he played on. Most of his coaches allowed him to address the team before taking the field for games. Here, he imparts words of wisdom to Chargers players—some of whom he played with—before participating in his retirement ceremony.

  Mike Norris Photographer

  Among the many events that Junior conducted through his foundation, none was more special to him than Shop with a Jock. The program paired kids from disadvantaged backgrounds with local celebrities and athletes, who served as personal shoppers to help the kids shop for Christmas gifts for family members at a designated store.

  Mike Norris Photographer

  Late in his career Junior took up playing the ukulele. It became as much a part of him as his infectious smile.

  Mike Norris Photographer

  Junior’s car is hauled onto a truck after it was driven off an embankment October 18, 2010, in Carlsbad, California. Seau was hospitalized with minor injuries.

  AP Photo/KFMB-TV

  Tire marks are clearly visible on the cliff where Junior Seau drove off an embankment.

  AP Photo/Gregory Bull

  During halftime of a November 2011 game against the Broncos, the Chargers inducted Junior into their Hall of Fame. From left to right: Mama Seau, Junior’s son Tyler, his daughter Sydney, his son Hunter, club chairman Dean Spanos, and Papa Seau.

  San Diego Chargers

  Junior always had a moment of worship at the banquet preceding his annual golf tournament. But in 2012, two months before his death, he did something he had never done: He called his family onto the stage to worship with him.

  Mike Norris Photographer

  Junior spent many of his mornings in the Pacific Ocean, which was a few steps from his beachfront home in Oceanside, California.

  Mike Norris Photographer

  Papa Seau is comforted by his daughter Annette at the ceremony to retire Junior’s jersey following his death.

  Mike Norris Photographer

  On the one-year anniversary of Junior’s death, family members gathered at the gravesite for what’s known in Polynesian culture as the crossover.

  Jim Trotter

  Hundreds of fellow surfers remembered Junior Seau during a traditional paddle-out ceremony in front of his Oceanside, California, home on May 6, 2012.

  Read Miller/Sports Illustrated/Getty Images

  10

  The Anti-Leaf

  HIS NAME was Ryan Leaf, but in San Diego he was viewed as The Savior.

  Desperate for a quarterback after their four signal-callers combined to average less than one touchdown pass per week during the 1997 season, the Chargers traded up one spot in the 1998 draft and selected Leaf, a six-foot-five Washington State gunslinger with a big right arm and bigger mouth, with the second pick overall—one spot behind Tennessee quarterback Peyton Manning.

  NFL personn
el people were split going into the draft as to which would be the better pro. Manning had the pedigree and the polish. His father, Archie, spent 14 years in the NFL after being drafted second overall by the Saints in 1971 and was considered football royalty. Peyton, who grew up around the game, possessed many of his father’s qualities: he was hardworking, competitive, and mature beyond his years. He even showed up for predraft interviews wearing a tie and blazer and carrying a notebook so he could record answers to the questions he had brought for his potential employer.

  Leaf was the opposite. He grew up in Great Falls, Montana, and never got closer to the NFL than his television screen. He was known for being loudmouthed and boorish, so much so that some of his high school and college teammates admitted they weren’t overly fond of him. That statement was jarring considering Leaf played the most important position on the field and often was the best player on either sideline. But he got away with it because he delivered the football regardless of rain, sleet, snow, or opponent.

  The Chargers didn’t particularly care which quarterback they came away with; they just had to ensure they’d get one of them. Beathard did that by trading two first-round picks, a second-round pick, and three-time Pro Bowler Eric Metcalf to Arizona for the right to move up one spot in the draft. After the Indianapolis Colts selected Manning, the Chargers eagerly claimed Leaf, eliciting cheers and talk of brighter days among fans.