CANTON, Ohio — When at long last it became Steve McMichael’s turn to be enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame on Saturday, the center stage at Tom Benson Hall of Fame Stadium remained empty.
Instead, the video board behind the rows of Hall of Famers in gold polo shirts cut to Homer Glen. There, in the suburban Chicago home where he has been confined as he fights ALS, McMichael watched as wife, Misty, and daughter, Macy, unveiled his bust.
“That’s you, baby, forever,” Misty said.
McMichael, the fierce defensive tackle in the middle of the great 1985 Chicago Bears defense, lay motionless in a hospital bed, his gold jacket draping over him as his family and former teammates Jimbo Covert, Richard Dent and Mike Singletary offered their cheers and support for an honor McMichael has been waiting for since he last played in 1994.
“Steve, you’re here with all of your world champion brothers,” Dent told him. “Back in Canton, we have 378 brothers that are looking for you. You’re on a team that you can never be cut from, you never can be released from. When you die on this team, you will still be on it. Welcome home, Steve. You’re in football heaven.”
The video cut to McMichael’s sister Kathy, who delivered a speech she helped him write before he lost his ability to speak, though she noted it would have been more fun if he was delivering it himself. She thanked his fans, teammates and family, ending it with thanks to his mother.
“We made it, mama! Your baby made it!” Kathy relayed through tears. “Bear down and hook ’em.”
Some 350 miles away in Canton, the jersey-wearing crowd giving a standing ovation in front of the Hall of Famers began to chant. “Mongo! Mongo!”
It was a bittersweet and emotional moment in a weekend full of them for those around the Bears who love and admire McMichael.
The festivities would have been so much more lively and colorful with McMichael, who publicly revealed his battle with ALS in 2021. In his absence, Bears representatives honored a player they described as the ultimate teammate, they relived the stories of a larger-than-life personality, and they hoped that his enshrinement brings some relief to his spirit during his cruel battle against ALS.
“We don’t want to see our brother go this way,” Dent said from Canton on Friday before traveling to see McMichael. “To get a chance to get this honor before he leaves this earth, it means a lot.
“Wherever his life goes from this place, he can rest in peace.”
‘Hopefully he can have some peace’
Fans in No. 76 Bears jerseys and “Mongo” T-shirts wandered the Stark County Fairgrounds on Friday evening next to a barn holding the colorful floats for the next morning’s Hall of Fame parade.
They ate and drank, browsed Bears memorabilia and played bags until the well-known faces began to appear.
Otis Wilson peeked out from a fence next to the band shell, pausing for photos with fans. Jim McMahon, dressed in bright green pants, a money-and-marijuana-print jacket and sunglasses, made his way to a different barn to sign autographs. Dan Hampton eventually extricated himself from a throng of autograph and photo seekers under a tent and made his way onto the stage with the other members of The Chicago Six, the band McMichael played in with Hampton and Wilson.
Hampton informed the growing crowd that he had visited McMichael a few days earlier. He told McMichael then how his teammates and fans were pulling for him and were excited for the induction, and McMichael blinked rapidly.
“I’ve got to tell you. I’ve never seen a more courageous human being,” Hampton told the fans. “Tonight we’re here to celebrate what has been a 40-year road to the Canton Pro Football Hall of Fame.”
After every couple of oldies songs, Hampton paused to talk about McMichael at the fundraiser meant to support ALS organizations and honor their old friend.
Sights and sounds from the Hall of Fame as Devin Hester and Steve McMichael prepare for enshrinement
For many of McMichael’s Bears teammates who made their way to Canton for the weekend, the trip came with a flood of emotions. Joy and perhaps some relief McMichael is seeing his yearslong ambition come to fruition. Regret that he couldn’t experience the induction in person himself. Hope that the moment brings closure for McMichael.
“I’m glad he finally got in,” McMahon said. “He deserves to be in there, and now he is. So hopefully he can have some peace now.”
The honor, all of the Bears agreed, was a long time coming for a player who was beloved on and off the field.
McMahon called McMichael “tough and hard-nosed” on the field and “bigger than life” off it. The former Bears quarterback surely has a bevy of wild stories to tell from his younger days with “Mongo,” but when asked for his favorite memory Friday, he went simple: Just hanging out with his friend.
“It’s just tough to see him the way he is now,” McMahon said.
From a Canton hotel restaurant earlier in the day, Singletary, the Hall of Fame linebacker, called McMichael “Rugged. Tough. Crazy. But a tender spirit.”
He reflected on the bonding moments and tears he shared with McMichael late in their careers, when they were the only ones left in Chicago of the great 1985 defense. And he expressed appreciation for how McMichael played the game “the way it was supposed to be played.”
“First of all, I’m just very thankful he’s in the Hall of Fame,” Singletary said. “Second of all, it’s not so much hard to be here without him, it’s just wishing he could really enjoy this moment fully.”
So what would the weekend have been like if a healthy McMichael was in Canton?
“I think they would have had to close Cleveland down,” Singletary said.
Aura of tough guy, heart of gold
Before he attended the gold jacket dinner Friday night for the new members, Bears Chairman George McCaskey contemplated the many things he appreciated about having McMichael on his team.
He called McMichael — who set the franchise record by playing in 191 straight games — an “ironman” and dependable, someone you could always rely on in such a complex and difficult game. He called him a great team player. Yes, he had 92½ sacks, 814 tackles and 12 forced fumbles as a Bear, but as importantly, he was someone willing to do the dirty work so his teammates could get the spotlight.
And in some ways, McCaskey sees similarities in McMichael to Bears great Dick Butkus.
“He threw out this aura of tough guy but had a heart of gold,” McCaskey said.
McCaskey laughed for about six seconds when he was asked about what it was like as a team leader to have a personality like McMichael on his team.
“Does the word personality do him justice?” he said with a laugh. “Outsized. Larger than life.”
He pointed to a story from after McMichael’s playing days — perhaps tamer than many of the McMichael tales — when while leading the seventh-inning stretch at Wrigley Field he called out umpire Ángel Hernández. McMichael, beer in hand, told the crowd he would “have some speaks with that home-plate umpire after the game” and briefly booed him — prompting a glare from Hernandez — before launching into song.
“On a team of characters, he’s probably one of the biggest ones — if the not the biggest one,” McCaskey said. “Somebody who didn’t know him would walk away and say, ‘Is this guy for real?’ But he is real. And genuine. And sincere. And really has a tender heart.”
And he has a respect for playing for the Bears organization that McCaskey finds admirable.
McCaskey remembered during a Bears reunion, when owner Virginia McCaskey walked into the room. McMichael hushed his teammates: “OK, boys, we need to be on our best behavior, Mrs. McCaskey’s here.”
“And she said to him, ‘Steve, you should be on your best behavior all the time,’ ” McCaskey said with another laugh.
McCaskey and Bears President Kevin Warren visited McMichael before last season, and McCaskey said it was both heartbreaking to see him in such physical condition but also heartening to see how his wife, Misty, and his caretakers helped him.
And McCaskey thinks McMichael’s fight shines through.
“His body is failing him, but you can see the gleam in his eyes,” McCaskey said. “And he’s once again showing us how to do it, how to face this huge obstacle with dignity and class and no complaints, no regrets.”
A painful understanding
Before the Bears played the Houston Texans in the Pro Football Hall of Fame Game, coach Matt Eberflus and his players met at the Hall of Fame with a special guest Wednesday night — Devin Hester.
Eberflus is a fan of Bears history, often bringing in former players to speak with his team. But he has never met McMichael, who has been battling ALS since Eberflus came to the Bears. However, the coach has watched his film and golfed with McMichael’s former teammates. He always came away with the same impression of how McMichael played and operated.
“He set the tempo and the attitude for what that front and that defense was going to be, and they achieved it,” Eberflus said. “He was the apex of that. Guys fed off of him, his intensity, his work ethic, his toughness — mental and physical.”
Eberflus, the coach who pounded his HITS principle from the moment he arrived in Chicago, obviously connects with that aspect of McMichael’s personality. But he connects with his story in another way too.
His father, Stanley Eberflus Jr., died of of ALS in 2015.
In many ways, the way Eberflus operates now stems from emulating his father, a former football center and an electrician. Stanley Eberflus was grounded in common sense, was honest and wise. And he worked hard, day in and day out.
As it has been for the McMichael family, it was heartbreaking for the Eberflus family to see such a cruel disease weaken their rock.
Stanley battled the disease for only a couple of years after he was diagnosed, but he experienced symptoms before that. He couldn’t raise his arms. He couldn’t flex his feet to drive. Eventually, he lost his ability to swallow.
“To see the leader of our family, a guy who was a blue-collar guy and went to work every day, worked on the weekends, to see him go through that, it was hard,” Eberflus said. “But we’re also a family of faith, and we know where he is, and the good Lord is taking care of him right now, and he’s smiling down on me. I talk to him all the time, and I know he’s right there with me.”
Eberflus also takes comfort in knowing he invested in his relationship with his father for 25 years.
When Eberflus lost his grandfather in 1990 while at Toledo, he had a moment of clarity at the funeral home when he saw the nameplate reading “Stanley Eberflus Sr.” From that moment on, he vowed to spend as much time as possible with his father, Stanley Jr.
Whenever Stanley wanted to go fishing or needed help doing yard work, his son would be there. Eberflus invited his father to all of his games while with the Dallas Cowboys. Toward the end, when Stanley couldn’t get around as easily, Cowboys owners Jerry and Stephen Jones got him a seat in the stadium’s mezzanine for his wheelchair, and Eberflus would point up from the field at his father.
Eberflus believes it’s probably even more difficult for McMichael to fade from the disease publicly, with so many loved ones and fans watching as he fights a battle that’s currently unwinnable.
But he also sees the outpouring of support that creates for McMichael — and for the fight against ALS. In November, Eberflus received the Iron Horse Award from ALS United of Greater Chicago, a fundraising event that Eberflus said also was healing for him as he delivered a speech about his father’s battle.
“It’s very painful to see your loved ones, that once were so strong,” Eberflus said. “It’s tough on the loved ones. And I know it’s tough on them too. My dad, I could tell it was really hard on him, because they’re still of sound mind. It’s just the body that goes. They know what’s going on, and they’re very aware of what’s happening around them.
“I just pray and hope that we find a cure for it eventually because it is a debilitating disease.”
Bears love
All weekend, Misty McMichael filled the holes for where her husband should be.
She walked in his place during introductions at the Hall of Fame Game. She sat in his seat at the Hall of Famers news conference, answering questions for him. She stood in at a group photo with all of the Hall of Famers in attendance. In a shimmering dress, she unboxed his gold jacket.
She called it an “honor and a privilege” to represent him.
“When he got sick and he lost his voice, I got mine, and so now I’m ready to talk about it and get him wherever he needs to go,” she said.
And she said the support from the Bears family is what has helped her do it.
“The love that I see from his fans and teammates is what keeps me going,” she said. “We couldn’t do it without them.”
The McMichaels received special help from one other friend, Jarrett Payton, son of McMichael’s teammate Walter Payton. He delivered McMichael’s video introduction to his enshrinement in Canton, and he focused not on McMichael’s current fight but all of the fight he showed in a Bears uniform.
“His ability to use his strength, his speed, his quickness, really set the tone for what the Bears did in ‘85 and the success they had as a defense,” Payton said. “Always cleaning up for everybody else, always making everybody else look good but also making plays. And doing it with a smile on his face and an intensity that the game has never seen before.
“Sometimes you have to wait for your moment, but when it comes, the joy, the happiness, all the hard work you’ve put into this, it all comes to a head. And that’s where Steve’s at right now. That’s that satisfaction, that (after) all the work he put in, it’s finally here.”
