Appreciating Gaines
posted by LW, Monday, January 18, 2010
Got a phone call yesterday from Melissa Isaacson, who's long been a respected columnist in Chicago.
Isaacson was trying to get a better idea of who Gaines Adams was as a person, and she seemed almost heartbroken to learn how adored Adams was at Clemson and beyond.
See, Adams was regarded as a bust when Chicago made the controversial trade for him in October. And when you're regarded as a bust in a hardened, cynical town like Chicago, there's not much interest in digging deep and examining the fabric and heart of an individual.
Isaacson regretted not getting to know Gaines the person until Gaines was gone. She heard all the endearing stories from me and others, and she wished she'd thought enough to unearth them when he was alive.
She touches on that in this column she penned on Adams yesterday.
Sadly, when anyone dies so young and so suddenly, there are going to be questions asked and answers demanded. Sad as well are the many things we never got to know about Adams simply because his play had not yet warranted a closer look.
Like the fact that he was a father and a great family man who quietly helped his college teammate, Ray Ray McElrathbey, the Clemson running back who was raising his then-11-year-old brother on his own.
The NCAA relaxed its rules allowing extra monetary aid for McElrathbey and his brother, Fahmarr. But before that, it was Adams who helped organize a few teammates to give the boy rides to and from school, and who took young Fahmarr to the store to buy him school supplies.
Adams was an All-American at Clemson and yes, he was blessed with gifts that showed in flashes of freakish athleticism, but he also made it to that point because of his passion, succeeding against the odds considering his roots in eight-man football in Greenwood, S.C.
Another prominent media voice in Chicago, Rick Morrisey of The Chicago Sun-Times, also regrets not finding out who Adams was.
I hardly knew a thing about Gaines Adams. I'm guessing most of you didn't know much about him, either.
What was his background? Did he come from a close family? What were his hopes and dreams? His hobbies? What made him happy?
None of that mattered during the Bears' season. All we needed to know was what the overheated discourse of an NFL season told us: that he was a disappointment as a player, that he wasn't strong enough to play defensive end and that the franchise had added insult to draft-day injury by wasting a second-round pick to acquire him from Tampa Bay in October.
He was such a non-factor as a football player that I rarely knew when he was on the field.
Bearing the weight of that condemnation should be no easy thing for us after what happened to the 26-year-old Sunday morning.
Many of us, deep down, will admit to viewing Adams as nothing more than an object, and an infuriating one at that. What we're left with is the echoes of our faultfinding.
Doesn't feel very good, does it?
And later...
The Buccaneers chose him fourth overall in the 2007 draft. He showed early promise in Tampa Bay but slipped the next two seasons. He played in 10 games for the Bears and finished with seven tackles and no sacks.
That was the extent of our knowledge of him, and, frankly, we didn't care to know much more.
But now we're left to listen to the people who really knew him, and it should hurt to hear it. For any of us who save deeper emotions for occasional ''Brian's Song'' sightings on cable, we might want to think about Adams today. And ourselves.
More insight into Adams here.
That was one of the issues in Tampa Bay, where Adams was drafted out of Clemson in 2007 with the fourth overall pick: Did he have a passion for the game?
Former Tampa Bay defensive tackle Warren Sapp said the way the story went with the Buccaneers, Adams was like Anthony ''Booger'' McFarland in terms of having the talent to be a star, but not the commitment.
Adams, a genteel sort who was described to the Los Angeles Times by NFL commissioner Roger Goodell as ''a terrific young man'' and ''a caring individual,'' bristled earlier this year when he was told of those comments.
''I love this game; I have a passion for this game,'' Adams said. ''That is just wrong.''
He was genuinely upset and vowed that his performance would reveal his dedication to being an NFL star. Adams finally got on the field for the last couple games of the year, and his career seemed headed in the right direction. The future stretched before him.
He passed a medical exam when the Bears traded for him and again at the end of the season. No one knew his great big heart simply would give out.
And more in the Chicago Tribune.
After a day hearing the pain in the voices of family and friends, it turns out Chicago knew even less about Adams the person.
Several Bears expressed grief but had little personal experience with Adams to draw upon after just 12 games. Adams' former team, the Buccaneers, issued tributes from the owner, GM and head coach, among others, but the Bears released a respectful 21-word statement that spoke for everyone in the organization.
"We are stunned and saddened by the news of Gaines' passing," it read. "Our prayers are with his family during this difficult time."
You could say Bears fans don't know what they will be missing and it wouldn't have anything to do with Adams' untapped skills as a pass rusher.
More from Tommy Bowden in this article.
"As a coach you're always looking for players who don't bitch and complain and Gaines just never did,'' Bowden said. "He would show up every day with a smile on his face ready to work. It didn't matter if we were hitting with pads or how long practice would go, he wouldn't complain.''
Bart Wright often gets criticism for his takes, and I'm one of the folks who dishes it out on occasion.
But Wright has a fantastic column on Adams today.
He was a handful to keep up with, but his relative light frame - he was 6-foot-5, 260 when he got to Tampa - meant that he couldn't stand up to the game-long abuse he would see on the defensive line. After that game, he saw a familiar face of a reporter he remembered from Clemson in the Buccaneers' locker room. Adams broke into a large grin, offered a hand and was having an amicable chat when he was asked about the transition to the NFL.
The smile disappeared and a serious expression came over him.
"It's a lot different than college," he said. "I had some moves that worked (at Clemson), but they've seen them all here; I have to work on some new things."
You see, Gaines Adams didn't want to just collect a fat paycheck and be on the team, he wanted to do what he had always done. He wanted, and probably expected, to excel.
And later...
A coaching change sent him to Chicago midway through the recently concluded season, which may have been the best place for him. Bears coach Lovie Smith won his coaching accolades with the Cover 2 defense, which requires two things above all else - an athletic middle linebacker who could drop into pass coverage and a fast pass rusher like Adams.
Brian Urlacher, who missed most of 2009 with a broken wrist, was the linebacker and Adams was going to be the pass rusher.
We'll never got to see how it would have finished. Adams died Sunday morning in Greenwood at age 26 after going into cardiac arrest.
But from the time he was just a big kid learning to play 8-man football in high school, to a Clemson recruit, to an All-American and a first round draft choice, this was a guy who was, more often than not, ahead of his time.
When he needed to learn and prove himself, he passed the test every time. It would have been the same with Bears in 2010, we all know that.
Everyone who ever knew Gaines Adams knew that.
Well said, Bart.
And so long, Gaines.
LW
Click here for the "Eye On The Tigers" blog archive.
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Got a phone call yesterday from Melissa Isaacson, who's long been a respected columnist in Chicago.
Isaacson was trying to get a better idea of who Gaines Adams was as a person, and she seemed almost heartbroken to learn how adored Adams was at Clemson and beyond.
See, Adams was regarded as a bust when Chicago made the controversial trade for him in October. And when you're regarded as a bust in a hardened, cynical town like Chicago, there's not much interest in digging deep and examining the fabric and heart of an individual.
Isaacson regretted not getting to know Gaines the person until Gaines was gone. She heard all the endearing stories from me and others, and she wished she'd thought enough to unearth them when he was alive.
She touches on that in this column she penned on Adams yesterday.
Sadly, when anyone dies so young and so suddenly, there are going to be questions asked and answers demanded. Sad as well are the many things we never got to know about Adams simply because his play had not yet warranted a closer look.
Like the fact that he was a father and a great family man who quietly helped his college teammate, Ray Ray McElrathbey, the Clemson running back who was raising his then-11-year-old brother on his own.
The NCAA relaxed its rules allowing extra monetary aid for McElrathbey and his brother, Fahmarr. But before that, it was Adams who helped organize a few teammates to give the boy rides to and from school, and who took young Fahmarr to the store to buy him school supplies.
Adams was an All-American at Clemson and yes, he was blessed with gifts that showed in flashes of freakish athleticism, but he also made it to that point because of his passion, succeeding against the odds considering his roots in eight-man football in Greenwood, S.C.
Another prominent media voice in Chicago, Rick Morrisey of The Chicago Sun-Times, also regrets not finding out who Adams was.
I hardly knew a thing about Gaines Adams. I'm guessing most of you didn't know much about him, either.
What was his background? Did he come from a close family? What were his hopes and dreams? His hobbies? What made him happy?
None of that mattered during the Bears' season. All we needed to know was what the overheated discourse of an NFL season told us: that he was a disappointment as a player, that he wasn't strong enough to play defensive end and that the franchise had added insult to draft-day injury by wasting a second-round pick to acquire him from Tampa Bay in October.
He was such a non-factor as a football player that I rarely knew when he was on the field.
Bearing the weight of that condemnation should be no easy thing for us after what happened to the 26-year-old Sunday morning.
Many of us, deep down, will admit to viewing Adams as nothing more than an object, and an infuriating one at that. What we're left with is the echoes of our faultfinding.
Doesn't feel very good, does it?
And later...
The Buccaneers chose him fourth overall in the 2007 draft. He showed early promise in Tampa Bay but slipped the next two seasons. He played in 10 games for the Bears and finished with seven tackles and no sacks.
That was the extent of our knowledge of him, and, frankly, we didn't care to know much more.
But now we're left to listen to the people who really knew him, and it should hurt to hear it. For any of us who save deeper emotions for occasional ''Brian's Song'' sightings on cable, we might want to think about Adams today. And ourselves.
More insight into Adams here.
That was one of the issues in Tampa Bay, where Adams was drafted out of Clemson in 2007 with the fourth overall pick: Did he have a passion for the game?
Former Tampa Bay defensive tackle Warren Sapp said the way the story went with the Buccaneers, Adams was like Anthony ''Booger'' McFarland in terms of having the talent to be a star, but not the commitment.
Adams, a genteel sort who was described to the Los Angeles Times by NFL commissioner Roger Goodell as ''a terrific young man'' and ''a caring individual,'' bristled earlier this year when he was told of those comments.
''I love this game; I have a passion for this game,'' Adams said. ''That is just wrong.''
He was genuinely upset and vowed that his performance would reveal his dedication to being an NFL star. Adams finally got on the field for the last couple games of the year, and his career seemed headed in the right direction. The future stretched before him.
He passed a medical exam when the Bears traded for him and again at the end of the season. No one knew his great big heart simply would give out.
And more in the Chicago Tribune.
After a day hearing the pain in the voices of family and friends, it turns out Chicago knew even less about Adams the person.
Several Bears expressed grief but had little personal experience with Adams to draw upon after just 12 games. Adams' former team, the Buccaneers, issued tributes from the owner, GM and head coach, among others, but the Bears released a respectful 21-word statement that spoke for everyone in the organization.
"We are stunned and saddened by the news of Gaines' passing," it read. "Our prayers are with his family during this difficult time."
You could say Bears fans don't know what they will be missing and it wouldn't have anything to do with Adams' untapped skills as a pass rusher.
More from Tommy Bowden in this article.
"As a coach you're always looking for players who don't bitch and complain and Gaines just never did,'' Bowden said. "He would show up every day with a smile on his face ready to work. It didn't matter if we were hitting with pads or how long practice would go, he wouldn't complain.''
Bart Wright often gets criticism for his takes, and I'm one of the folks who dishes it out on occasion.
But Wright has a fantastic column on Adams today.
He was a handful to keep up with, but his relative light frame - he was 6-foot-5, 260 when he got to Tampa - meant that he couldn't stand up to the game-long abuse he would see on the defensive line. After that game, he saw a familiar face of a reporter he remembered from Clemson in the Buccaneers' locker room. Adams broke into a large grin, offered a hand and was having an amicable chat when he was asked about the transition to the NFL.
The smile disappeared and a serious expression came over him.
"It's a lot different than college," he said. "I had some moves that worked (at Clemson), but they've seen them all here; I have to work on some new things."
You see, Gaines Adams didn't want to just collect a fat paycheck and be on the team, he wanted to do what he had always done. He wanted, and probably expected, to excel.
And later...
A coaching change sent him to Chicago midway through the recently concluded season, which may have been the best place for him. Bears coach Lovie Smith won his coaching accolades with the Cover 2 defense, which requires two things above all else - an athletic middle linebacker who could drop into pass coverage and a fast pass rusher like Adams.
Brian Urlacher, who missed most of 2009 with a broken wrist, was the linebacker and Adams was going to be the pass rusher.
We'll never got to see how it would have finished. Adams died Sunday morning in Greenwood at age 26 after going into cardiac arrest.
But from the time he was just a big kid learning to play 8-man football in high school, to a Clemson recruit, to an All-American and a first round draft choice, this was a guy who was, more often than not, ahead of his time.
When he needed to learn and prove himself, he passed the test every time. It would have been the same with Bears in 2010, we all know that.
Everyone who ever knew Gaines Adams knew that.
Well said, Bart.
And so long, Gaines.
LW
Click here for the "Eye On The Tigers" blog archive.
Link to this entry - Discuss this entry - Return to Blog Home
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Larry Williams. Larry has covered the daily beat at Clemson since 2004. Williams, who worked for the Charleston Post & Courier from 2004-08, joined Tigerillustrated.com in November of 2008. He may be reached by email at ldubya08(at)gmail.com. Replace (at) with @.