Oh, NON-fiction, okay. I see where you're going with this...

Okay, so that last one wasn't exactly true. Though it could be by the time the Giants play the Bucs this October. But this next one is 100% on-the-ball, tamper-proof, Grade-A quality veracious. Or at least as accurate as I could make it without research (they said none of that). Enjoy:

The Monster Within

The NFL is not an easy workplace environment. Though it’s only a game, professional football requires its players to lay their bodies and in some cases their lives on the line for victory. If you lose focus or show mercy for even a second, it can mean the game, or worse, it can mean an injury, a paycut, or even a loss of livelihood. Players spend their whole professional lives in this kill or be killed environment. They thrive on the aggression, the competitive edge, the lack of regard for the opponent as a human being for months at a time. Eventually, though, the time comes when all the legalized brutality of the field has to come to an end and these players have to become normal people again. They have to go home to their families and be active, functioning members of a society. Even in the offseason, though, there is training and film study to keep the aggressive juices flowing, and soon the player goes back to his world of violence and struggle. The real test comes when the player retires. When there is no game next week to get up for, no opponent ready and waiting to give the player an outlet for his aggression. So what happens then? Where does all the aggression go? How can a player just turn it off and move on with his life?

Take the example of Steve McMichael. Steve played fourteen years in the NFL with the Patriots, Bears and Packers. He earned the nickname “Mongo” as a member of the vaunted Bear defense that won the Super Bowl in 1985. The name was that of a character in the film Blazing Saddles whose immense size, power and hasty temper coupled with his relative lack of intelligence mirrored that of McMichael on the field. He was often characterized as a cruel brute, but in football that never hurt anyone. In Chicago he was known as an enforcer in a town that historically loved such figures. McMichael had a fair share of football success: a fairly long career, a Super Bowl ring, and two trips to the Pro Bowl in 1986 and ’87. Yet no one would ever call him a hall of fame-level talent, nor is he remembered as a particularly popular teammate or public figure, and his aggressive nature likely didn’t help in either case. Perhaps “Mongo’s” accomplishments, though considerable, were not enough to fulfill him. Maybe he wanted to do something more in the realm of sports to make sure he was remembered. For whatever reason, McMichael chose to move on after football to another area where aggression was the name of the game. He chose the realm of professional wrestling.

In April of 1995, only a month after McMichael retired from the NFL, the World Wrestling Federation (WWF), the leading wrestling company in the world, featured hall of fame linebacker Lawrence Taylor in the main event of their biggest annual pay-per-view show, Wrestlemania. They signed several well-known football players, including McMichael, do to guest appearances at the event in order to draw more mainstream media attention. After serving as Taylor’s second along with Chris Spielman, Reggie White, Carl Banks and Ken Norton, Jr. at the April 4 event, McMichael was invited to show up the next night at a WWF telecast to engage in a staged fight with wrestler Charles “Kama” Wright. Between the two nights, McMichael believed he had established himself enough to start a career as a wrestler. Unfortunately, he had committed an absolute taboo in wrestling by not pulling his punches during the fight with Wright. Allegedly, once the fight began Steve got a bit too caught up in the heat of the moment. His well-known aggressive streak came out and Wright was none too pleased. As a result, the WWF did not offer him a deal as a wrestler.

Several months later, however, the WWF’s chief competitor World Championship Wrestling (WCW), continued their strategy of raiding the WWF’s veteran and cast-aside talent by signing McMichael to a long-term contract as a wrestler. While being trained for the business, WCW used McMichael’s relative fame by employing him as a color commentator on their weekly live television program. Unfortunately, McMichael soon established himself as an embarrassment behind the mic whose only appeal came from bringing his pet Chihuahua Pepe on screen with him. Things didn’t improve much once Steve actually began wrestling. Despite his NFL experience, “Mongo” never really grasped the nuances of pro wrestling. It was a whole different type of physicality, based on making every move look as painful as possible without ever really hurting anyone. McMichael’s smashmouth football mentality and quick temper made it hard for him to use the necessary precision. He took liberties with his opponents when angry that only the most respected veterans were ever bold enough to take, and he was singled out by experienced grapplers as sloppy. Furthermore, despite being paired with WCW legend and famed character actor Ric Flair, McMichael seemed to lack the charisma needed to make the fans interested in him.

Worse yet, WCW had suggested Steve bringing his wife Debra in to play his manager full time after a successful pay-per-view appearance. Steve accepted, hoping bringing her on the road with him would help keep their marriage alive. On the contrary, Steve only distanced himself further from Debra as he continued to have problems keeping his aggressions from work separate from his personal life. She ended up having an affair with Steve’s on-screen rival Jeff Jarrett, then making the affair real. The couple divorced, and Steve was further humiliated when Debra stayed with Jarrett and both were signed contracts with the WWF. She became a much bigger star than Steve ever was after the company required her to get breast implants and she formed a huge following with their target demographic of young adult males. Despite the issues the McMichaels had with Steve’s wrestling career, Debra must have seen something in it because she remarried the WWF’s megastar, “Stone Cold” Steve Austin. Steve, meanwhile, got a worse and worse reputation in WCW, and was fired in 1998 soon after being upstaged by his former opponent from the Atlanta Falcons, Bill Goldberg.

Steve remained a celebrity in Chicago sports despite his inability to get back into wrestling. Then in 2004, he was asked to sing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame” at a Chicago Cubs game. Steve finally got into the spotlight again, but for all the wrong reasons. Before the song, Steve threatened the game’s umpires over a disputed call, leading to his ejection from a game in which he had no official involvement. The incident, reported by many in the press as McMichael thinking he was back on the football field or in the wrestling ring, showed that his aggression still had not subsided after all this time. It also gave him a black eye in the one place he had maintained a modicum of respect. Recently, when Wrestlemania came to Chicago, McMichael reportedly tried to crash a party involving the wrestlers and other talent from the company. His wrestling credentials didn’t even get him past the door. Even in the oft-ridiculous world of pro wrestling, no one wants to have anything to do with “Mongo.” McMichael’s story is a grim, but important reminder of the toll that professional football takes on the life of its players. The game never truly leaves you, whether it leaves you in pain or crippled from physical injuries scars your psyche forever. Steve McMichael isn’t crazy; he just never learned the one lesson the NFL doesn’t teach you: how to leave behind the monster that you have to be in order to survive. Here’s hoping he can finally lay the game to rest some day.

~Jakeman