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Peterson Couldn't Help Getting Close to Thomas
Feb. 9, 2000
Derrick Thomas wheeled wildly around the hospital on the last full day of his life. Thomas had his up moments and his down moments during the two-week whirlwind after his car skidded and tumbled on that icy road. Former major-league umpire Steve Palermo said that in the weeks after a terrible accident, emotions swing and sway like momentum in a football game. You feel overwhelmingly sad and then, suddenly, for no reason, you feel ridiculously happy. And back again.
This was definitely an up moment for Derrick Thomas.
"Dad!" he screamed to Carl Peterson, and Thomas rushed his wheelchair toward Peterson as if he were closing in on a quarterback. Thomas skidded to a stop and smiled that huge smile of his.
"You look good," Peterson said.
"I'm not going to let this get me down," Thomas said.
Peterson felt so happy. He felt so hopeful. This was a strange bond between two men, no question about it. Chiefs president/general manager Carl Peterson is a hard man. He's tough, and he's calculating, and he would cut his maternal grandmother if it had positive salary-cap implications. He has always believed it best to keep his distance from players, and let's be honest here, closeness was never much of a problem. He negotiated hard, bruised plenty of feelings and always did what he thought was best for the Chiefs.
"You don't want to become their friends," Peterson said.
Derrick Thomas pierced through all that somehow. Maybe it was because he was Peterson's first draft pick with the Chiefs. Maybe it was because of his smile, his passion for life, his drive to be the best at every single thing he tried. Maybe it was because for 11 seasons Thomas was the heart of a defense that made more big plays than any other in football. Maybe it was because together, Thomas and Peterson -- Marty Schottenheimer and Neil Smith and Tim Grunhard and a bunch of others, too -- turned football into religion in Kansas City. Maybe it was a little bit of all of that.
Whatever it was, there was a lot of love there. Thomas might have been clowning around a bit when he called Peterson "Dad" and "Father," but it was very real to Carl. He and Thomas talked about everything over the years, football and life, business and family. Peterson praised Thomas and scolded him and marveled at him and signed him to big, big dollars.
"I'm not exaggerating when I say Derrick was the son I never had," Peterson said.
So, when he saw Derrick Thomas wheeling about on Monday, so full of life again, so full of spirit again, Peterson felt overjoyed. This was the old Derrick Thomas, the prideful Derrick Thomas, the man who would not be denied. A few weeks before the accident, Thomas had been interviewed by his old coach, Schottenheimer, and Marty asked Derrick point-blank what everybody in the league wanted to know: Had he lost a step? The question wounded Thomas. He stumbled through an answer, but all week, he felt hurt, he felt angry, he felt betrayed. That Sunday night, against Minnesota, Thomas was possessed. He twice sacked Jeff George. He forced a fumble that was returned for a touchdown. Yeah, there's your lost step, Marty. There's your lost step.
"He had that same look in his eyes," Peterson said. This was what Peterson had wanted to see in Thomas. He wanted to see the old hunger. Thomas was clutching to life again. He roared through his rehab. He smiled for all his relatives. He watched Tiger Woods win his sixth tournament in a row on television. He read a bunch of the letters and e-mails that people had been sending. He laughed with Marc Buoniconti, who had been paralyzed during a college football game 14 years ago.
He talked about all the things he would do now that his football-playing life was over.
"The best I can say it," Chiefs team physician Jon Browne said, "is he just looked just like he did as a player on the field."
Yes, it was a very up moment, and as Peterson and Browne flew home late Monday night, they could not help but feel a little giddy. Sure, they knew it was still a long road ahead for Thomas. They knew he would have good days and bad ones, he would make small strides and have severe setbacks, but they knew he would make it. He had that look again. Derrick Thomas had so much left to give.
"I always told Derrick, he could be a success at anything," Peterson said. "He had that special quality."
It was early Tuesday morning that the phone rang at Peterson's home. It was Chiefs director of player development Lamonte Winston at the hospital.
"Carl," he said softly, "something bad is happening."
"I knew before he said the words," Peterson said. He cries often now. He thinks about the way Thomas played, the way he lived, the mistakes he made, the triumphs he pulled off. He thinks mostly about that last day, with Derrick Thomas wheeling around, that big smile all over his face, hope everywhere in his eyes, and it just about breaks him.
"I broke my own rule," Peterson said.
He was not supposed to get so close to one of his own football players. He was supposed to draft them, negotiate hard with their agents, prod the players, keep them in line, keep them on edge, fire them if necessary, maybe even scare them a little bit.
That's what a strong, fierce executive does. Carl Peterson is a strong, fierce executive.
"I broke my own rule," he said again. "But it was Derrick Thomas. How could you help but love the guy?"
from kc star
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