by Jim Trotter
“I miss him,” Mama Seau said from a love seat in the living room, nearly two years after Junior’s death.
She has learned to deal with his absence, but the pain is never far away. In the months after his passing, she would travel roughly two miles daily to his gravesite and spend hours sitting and talking to him. It was her way of coping. For others, including his kids, counseling sessions helped them get through the pain.
“Honestly, it was confusing and hard growing up as his only daughter,” Sydney said. “There was just so much pressure. I wasn’t a boy, but I felt just as much pressure as my brothers did. I wanted to be better. Because he was gone all the time, I just felt that there had to be something I could do to make him proud enough to just stay a little while, to be with us kids. It was a competition within myself—not with my brothers or my family name—just with me to prove that I was good enough to be his one and only daughter. It was overwhelming because he was the only person I wanted to make happy, because I knew he needed it more than anyone else. No one really gets that.”
Sydney paused and gathered her emotions.
“He was the light in my life,” she continued. “There’s not a day I don’t think about him, I don’t miss him. But there has to be some way that I can reconcile with what happened, and it’s that I know I did everything I could to keep him here. There were things that were out of his control and my control [i.e., CTE] to keep him here. But I really do think he made it. He did everything he could in his 43 years, and he made a difference and an impact on hundreds and thousands of people. A lot of people can’t say that.”
Prior to this book, Junior’s parents and other members of the Seau family refused to speak publicly about him following his death. They were hurt and disappointed by stories that focused on only the worst parts of his life, and they feared that his children might come to think less highly of him.
“I hear a lot of negative stuff about how Junior treats women,” his sister Mary said. “The way he grew up with my sister and I and my mom—Junior loved my mom, he loved me. He always treated the women differently, with respect. He’s always been happy, outgoing, willing to do things to help others in the family. He was so family-oriented. He’s been down, but he’s very sensitive in some ways. If I could tell his kids anything, it’s that your dad was an awesome dad, an awesome brother. He always wanted to do right. Whatever you hear negative out there . . . that’s not him. He believed in God. If you’d have seen him growing up at church—we’d have a luau and he’d put his whole energy into dancing. He and Sal [Aunese] would dress up as women in bras, etc., and dance and have fun. He was just a loving person.”
Although history will show that Junior Seau took his life, his legacy will reflect a man who gave more than he took. It was important to him to make people happy. It was why he allowed Eric Olsen, then a nervous and unsure high school kid, to block him to the ground at a football camp. It was why he went to city hall and took the certification test when former Chargers team orthopedist David Chao and his fiancée asked him to preside over their wedding. It was why he showed up the day after tearing a biceps and spoke to the elementary school class of Allison Yahnke, the daughter of his financial planner, Dale Yahnke. Not only that, he began his talk by telling the kids about a special buddy he had made 30 minutes earlier. Her name: Allison Yahnke.
That was Junior’s way. He was not the type to simply give money to charities; he believed in connecting with people. Donating his time was more fulfilling than donating his money. He even created an off-season beach boot camp for Oceanside kids who could not afford personal trainers—and he often trained them himself. When other community members started showing up—young and old, male and female, gang-bangers and non-gang-bangers—he opened the sessions and his arms to them as well.
Years after his death, his ability to touch people can still be seen at his gravesite, where parents leave pictures of their kids with Junior. In one, a young boy is wearing a helmet and being held by the star linebacker. It is debatable whose smile is wider.
There’s also a handwritten note wrapped in protective clear plastic. It reads: “You mean more than you know and are missed but not forgotten.” It’s a thought shared by an entire community.
Junior ended most public speeches by reminding the audience to “live for today, build for tomorrow, pray for the rest.” He always sought to find light where there was darkness, a quality he passed on to at least one of his children, as reflected in a school essay written by his youngest child, Hunter, in the fall of 2014. It was titled “Life Is Valuable” and read as follows:
May 2nd, 2012, was the worst day of my life. This was the day that my Dad unexpectedly passed away. It’s been just over two years, but the scars will forever remain.
Sadly, I may have only seen him once a month for a weekend here and there prior to that day, which was never really enough. He spent the majority of his time playing professional football and was rarely in town.
I’ll never forget the weekend just weeks before he died. It was in April of 2012 and I was at my Dad’s house and we were getting along perfectly. We did all of our favorite things together: We went golfing at Del Mar Country Club, then we went to my favorite restaurant, SEAU’S. The next day we went in the ocean and hung out together. It was the best weekend I had ever spent with my Dad. It was just he and I.
Then on May 2nd I heard about my Dad passing away. My mom rushed to get me from my school that morning with my older brother and sister in the car. Everyone was so sad and crying. I cannot put it into words how painful it was to hear my Dad was not here anymore. I really didn’t know how to react. I was so sad, but I wasn’t crying. It was like there was a knife that went through my heart and it just hurt. The pain just would not go away, and it was a pain I had never felt before—and by far the worst.
Everything from May 2nd to the end of May was just a blur. I can’t remember much of anything that happened in between. It was like I was in a daze of sorrow and I couldn’t get out of it. My Dad and I talked about going to Hawaii and all these elaborate things that we wanted to do together. That is why I didn’t understand why he would leave me so soon. Sadly, I don’t think I will ever understand.
My Dad had the best sense of humor and was always positive and kind. He would always tell me, “Son, remember to always stay humble.” He never wanted to draw attention to himself. He was the most humble person I have ever met. After football games he would go out to the crowds and sign things for hours, even though he had things he would much rather be doing. But he would sign things for the sake of his fans. It shows what a kind and considerate man he was.
He also told me, “Son, you need to always be grateful for what you have.” My Dad grew up in a very poor family and then grew up to be a very successful man, but he worked hard to get what he had. He was the person I looked up to and I’ve always wanted to be somewhat like him.
Eleven years prior to my Dad’s death, my Mom and Dad got divorced. This was also a sad time for my family. Even though I was only 1 years old, this has affected my life dramatically [because] I had to switch off parents. I was almost always with my Mom, but on occasion I would go to my Dad’s house.
Both of these tragic things happened so quickly, and they both had a positive and negative effect on my life. The negative effect is my Mom and Dad split up, causing me to grow up with one parent. And later my Dad passed away, which has made my life harder because I no longer have my Dad around at all.
If there is anything positive, it is that I’ve learned how valuable life really is, how we need to love and cherish those around us. People don’t often realize how things can happen so quickly and unexpectedly. Now I value everything I do and try to pick out the good in everything because you never know when something bad can happen. Why not enjoy the good in life while you still have the privilege to do so?
Epilogue
On January 31, 2015, the Pro Football Hall of Fame selection committee gathered in a ballroom on the second
floor of the Phoenix Convention Center. The 46 members were there to determine the Class of 2015, which would be no simple accomplishment considering they had to reduce a who’s who list of 15 modern-era finalists to a maximum of five. (Two contributors and a seniors nominee also were up for consideration, but the vote on them would be conducted separately from the modern-era candidates.)
One by one the finalists were presented for discussion, starting with the running backs (Jerome Bettis and Terrell Davis), then the linebackers (Kevin Greene and Junior Seau), then the one quarterback (Kurt Warner), and the coaches (Don Coryell, Tony Dungy, and Jimmy Johnson). They were followed by the sole kicker (Morten Andersen), the wide receivers (Tim Brown and Marvin Harrison), the safety (John Lynch), the defensive end (Charles Haley), and the offensive lineman (Orlando Pace).
The discussion for each could go as long or as short as the committee desired. It turned out that all but one candidate was discussed for 12 minutes or longer. The lone exception was Junior Seau, who held the floor for only seven minutes.
Truthfully, it was surprising the discussion of his candidacy went that long, considering that he is regarded as one of the greatest linebackers in the game’s history. No one would have blinked if the debate began and ended with the mention of his name. But it went for seven minutes because some committee members wanted to recount their personal memories of watching him perform. Their words were similar to those of ESPN analyst and former Broncos Pro Bowl linebacker Tom Jackson the next morning—that he couldn’t take his eyes off Junior because Junior played every play as if it was his last one.
Junior was the type of player for whom scouts checked all the boxes when evaluating linebackers. Not only was he the first in line when the football gods were handing out size, speed, quickness, and strength, but he also was blessed with the intangibles of greatness: passion, discipline, accountability, and an unrelenting work ethic.
“There was a guy that I wish I had kept some of the film of from our time together,” said Wisconsin coach Paul Chryst, who was an assistant with the Chargers from 1999 to 2001. “Just a great player, but never afraid to get knocked on his ass. In college it’s a badge of honor to say you’ve never been knocked on your ass, but that means you’ve never cut it loose and played on the edge. He did that.
“I remember asking him in off-season workouts, ‘Junior, what do you get out of this? Why do you go full speed?’ He said, ‘I don’t get anything out of it. But the linebackers need to learn how to play with me.’ He didn’t say it in a cocky, egotistical way. I thought he was a pro’s pro. He was something special.”
When the Hall of Fame vote took place, Junior’s family was spread across the world. Sons Tyler and Hunter were in Phoenix with Gina and Bette Hoffman, the executor of his estate. Daughter Sydney was in London, as an exchange student from the University of Southern California. Son Jake, a freshman at Duke, was at school preparing for his first lacrosse game of the season. And his parents were home in Oceanside, awaiting word of the fateful vote.
When his spot in the Class of 2015 was official, emotions were mixed. “The happiest sad day you could imagine,” said Hoffman.
Junior’s dream was always to have a bronze bust in Canton, Ohio, but the reality that he would not be there when the cover was lifted off hit everyone with the force of a blindside tackle.
“I’m so disappointed that I’m going to be giving a speech to an empty chair in Canton, but I understand why,” said Sydney, who will present Junior to the audience at the induction ceremonies in August 2015. “He should be here, but he’s not for a reason, and that’s what we have to take from it and keep going and growing. All I’m focusing on is being honored to introduce the light of my life. Yeah, I’d love for him to be here and make fun of my amateur speech writing and tell me to stick to my day job, because I know that’s what he would’ve done. And yeah, I’d like to hear him say, ‘All right, Syd. Dreams are for free. You didn’t have to do that. You can take a seat. Have a great day.’ I know he would say that because I can hear him saying it right now.”
Sydney paused and laughed. She could feel her father’s presence, even if he wasn’t there.
Acknowledgments
I am incredibly indebted to Junior’s family and friends, some of whom broke the silence they had maintained since his death to help me paint a fuller picture of his life and legacy. Their confidence that I would present their memories with honesty and fairness impacted every word and page in this book.
It would be disingenuous to say the project wasn’t more challenging than I anticipated, largely because of the sensitivity of the subject matter and the friction between Junior’s parents and siblings and his ex-wife Gina. From the outset each side wondered whom I would be working with in telling his story. What they really were asking me was, “Whose version of the truth are you going to tell?”
With Junior, there were multiple versions. He hated drama and therefore would tell people what they wanted to hear because keeping the peace was paramount. However, by telling conflicting versions of the same story, Junior only fanned the tension-tinged flames and created a divide that increased dramatically following his death.
Thankfully, his family and friends agreed to trust me with their memories of him because they knew Junior and I had had a close professional relationship that later evolved into a friendship. We never hung out together, but my two daughters and I were regulars at his foundation’s functions. I always marveled that the man’s heart was as big as his persona.
That relationship was the primary reason why his family, after two years of grieving, finally accepted my phone calls and answered my knocks at the front door. His sisters, Mary and Annette, were instrumental in filling the voids in not only his early years but also his last months. His parents, through broken English, provided perspective and clarity. And his trainers with the Chargers—Keoki Kamau and James Collins, who were as close to him as his siblings—pulled back the curtains to reveal how a man could seemingly will himself through injuries that should have sidelined him.
Gina Seau played a key role in this book by providing access to the private journals Junior kept during his career—he often wrote on paper what he refused to say to the media or even his friends—and then by recounting their days together after he drove his SUV off a bluff.
Daughter Sydney and son Jake were incredibly honest and raw when discussing their relationship with their father, who loved them tremendously but struggled to show it. And son Hunter showed incredible generosity by sharing the class essay he wrote about the day his dad died. His words were simultaneously heartbreaking and uplifting.
Megan Noderer, the girlfriend who found his lifeless body the morning of May 2, 2012, showed great courage in speaking with me. For three years she had declined to speak with anyone but Gina Seau about that morning. But in February 2015 she opened up to me about her relationship with Junior and the first thoughts that went through her mind when she couldn’t resuscitate his body on that horrific morning.
I also owe thanks to the hundreds of former teammates and friends who spoke to me about Junior before and after his death. I began covering him as a reporter for the San Diego Union-Tribune in 1996 and wrote countless stories about him. That’s why this book didn’t require a tremendous amount of “research,” because I basically have had a sideline view of his adult life.
One person who earned my utmost respect was Rodney Harrison, Junior’s teammate in San Diego and New England, because he said publicly what few others had the courage to voice—that close friends of Junior’s who claim they didn’t see he was on a destructive path are kidding themselves. They were not friends, they were enablers.
I’d also like to thank family and friends for their support and wisdom, notably, Dan Wetzel, Farrell Evans, Bruce Feldman, and Lars Anderson. And lastly, I have to give a shout-out to Houghton Mifflin and editor Susan Canavan for having the conviction to not only pursue this project with a rookie book writer but also treat it with the sensiti
vity it deserves.
Notes
INTRODUCTION
Author’s Interviews
Billy Devaney, Mike Riley, Nick Saban, Bill Belichick, Rodney Harrison, Mark Davis, and Drew Brees.
1. “I HAVE TO BE BETTER THAN ME”
Author’s Interviews
Sai Niu, Tiaina Seau, Luisa Seau, Annette Seau, Mary Seau, Pulu Poumele, Melissa Waldrop, and Don Montamble.
Other Sources
Daniel de Vise, “Seau Enjoying Retirement—Senior Seau, That Is,” San Diego Union-Tribune, December 14, 1996.
Don Norcross, “Junior Seau: He Channeled His Energies,” Evening Tribune, June 10, 1987.
Tom Shanahan, “Seau’s Best Average Is in Classroom,” Evening Tribune, February 11, 1986.
2. SUCCESS AND SHAME: ONE AND THE SAME
Author’s Interviews
Don Montamble, Sai Niu, Tiaina Seau, Luisa Seau, Annette Seau, Mary Seau, Clarence Shelmon, Melissa Waldrop, Randall Godinet, Gary Bernardi, Mark Carrier, Craig Hartsuyker, and Pulu Poumele.
3. “THERE WAS NOTHING JUNIOR ABOUT HIS GAME”
Author’s Interviews
Leroy Holt, Tim Ryan, Michael Williams, Mark Carrier, Craig Hartsuyker, Bobby April, Tom Roggeman, Melissa Waldrop, Annette Seau, and Mary Seau.