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Former Baltimore Colt Mike Woods died last week at age 54. He was paralyzed at 27. (Baltimore Sun file photo / June 2, 2009) |
Mike Woods' death last week was much like his abbreviated NFL career with the Baltimore Colts: It went largely unnoticed.
To suggest it was unlamented would be wrong, however. Very wrong.
Woods' career was cut short in 1982 by an assailant's bullet that destroyed his spinal cord and rendered him a quadriplegic the last 27 years of his life. It was what he did after getting shot that made a difference and set him apart.
"He had a spirit that would not give up and a spirit that was happy," former Colts teammate Ron Fernandes said. "How he did that, I can't tell you. That's Mike's greatness, his gift to the world. Anyone who knows him can draw strength from that. He could have folded up after that, and he didn't."
After the shooting, Woods completed his degree through the University of Cincinnati, helped his wife, Milyn, raise four children, watched his eldest son, Shaun, go to Bowie State on a football scholarship and became a symbol of inspiration for those who knew him.
Until Woods walked into the line of fire in a house on the bad side of Cleveland on the morning of May 21, 1982, he was known more for his prodigious athletic talent and a nagging tendency toward injury than for his ability to lead men.
Attempting to retrieve his father from an all-night poker game, Woods, then 27, was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. A robbery gone bad and a bullet in the neck left him fighting for his life. Within a week, the 17-year-old shooter was arrested.
For the next 27 years, Woods dealt with the grim reality of paralysis until he died at 54. That he did so without bitterness was a testament to his character.
"I think a lot of it had to do with his spirituality," Milyn said Tuesday. "It amazed me every day."
In fact, it amazed everyone with whom Woods came into contact.
"The guy lived a happy life," said Ernie Accorsi, who had been general manager of the Colts for one week when Woods was shot. "It's incredible to say that, judging from what he went through.
"You can say what a tragic life he had, but longevity doesn't determine a happy life. To me, a tragic life is when someone is bitter. This guy was inspirational to be around."
According to his wife, Woods was not even bitter toward the shooter, Victor Gomez Jr.
"No," she said, "he was very forgiving."
During his brief time with the Colts - 36 starts in 48 games, one full season lost on injured reserve - Woods wowed teammates with his free-spirited personality, his sculpted body and his passion for the game. He had been the University of Cincinnati's first All-American, transferring there after his first choice, the University of Tampa, dropped football in 1975.
He was a second-round draft pick by the Colts in 1978, nicknamed "War-daddy" for his reckless style of play. He meshed quickly with "Colonel" Sanders Shiver, a linebacker, and defensive end Fred "Cookie Monster" Cook.
"He was a good guy," Shiver said. "He was super talented, had everything you needed. He always saw the bright side of everything."
Clyde Powers joined the Colts as an assistant coach in 1980, and he, too, gained respect for Woods on and off the field.
"Athletic-wise, he could've gone a long way," said Powers, now the Colts' director of pro player personnel. "He was a big guy [6 feet 2, 233 pounds] with speed, who could rush the passer, cover running backs and hold the point [of attack]. He threw his body around; he was fearless."
To suggest it was unlamented would be wrong, however. Very wrong.
Woods' career was cut short in 1982 by an assailant's bullet that destroyed his spinal cord and rendered him a quadriplegic the last 27 years of his life. It was what he did after getting shot that made a difference and set him apart.
"He had a spirit that would not give up and a spirit that was happy," former Colts teammate Ron Fernandes said. "How he did that, I can't tell you. That's Mike's greatness, his gift to the world. Anyone who knows him can draw strength from that. He could have folded up after that, and he didn't."
After the shooting, Woods completed his degree through the University of Cincinnati, helped his wife, Milyn, raise four children, watched his eldest son, Shaun, go to Bowie State on a football scholarship and became a symbol of inspiration for those who knew him.
Until Woods walked into the line of fire in a house on the bad side of Cleveland on the morning of May 21, 1982, he was known more for his prodigious athletic talent and a nagging tendency toward injury than for his ability to lead men.
Attempting to retrieve his father from an all-night poker game, Woods, then 27, was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. A robbery gone bad and a bullet in the neck left him fighting for his life. Within a week, the 17-year-old shooter was arrested.
For the next 27 years, Woods dealt with the grim reality of paralysis until he died at 54. That he did so without bitterness was a testament to his character.
"I think a lot of it had to do with his spirituality," Milyn said Tuesday. "It amazed me every day."
In fact, it amazed everyone with whom Woods came into contact.
"The guy lived a happy life," said Ernie Accorsi, who had been general manager of the Colts for one week when Woods was shot. "It's incredible to say that, judging from what he went through.
"You can say what a tragic life he had, but longevity doesn't determine a happy life. To me, a tragic life is when someone is bitter. This guy was inspirational to be around."
According to his wife, Woods was not even bitter toward the shooter, Victor Gomez Jr.
"No," she said, "he was very forgiving."
During his brief time with the Colts - 36 starts in 48 games, one full season lost on injured reserve - Woods wowed teammates with his free-spirited personality, his sculpted body and his passion for the game. He had been the University of Cincinnati's first All-American, transferring there after his first choice, the University of Tampa, dropped football in 1975.
He was a second-round draft pick by the Colts in 1978, nicknamed "War-daddy" for his reckless style of play. He meshed quickly with "Colonel" Sanders Shiver, a linebacker, and defensive end Fred "Cookie Monster" Cook.
"He was a good guy," Shiver said. "He was super talented, had everything you needed. He always saw the bright side of everything."
Clyde Powers joined the Colts as an assistant coach in 1980, and he, too, gained respect for Woods on and off the field.
"Athletic-wise, he could've gone a long way," said Powers, now the Colts' director of pro player personnel. "He was a big guy [6 feet 2, 233 pounds] with speed, who could rush the passer, cover running backs and hold the point [of attack]. He threw his body around; he was fearless."
