Posts by: Sean Pamphilon

This is a brief (for me) & abbreviated recounting of the final hours leading up to the release of the Gregg Williams Audio. For greater detail, please refer to my essay, “When you kill the head, the body doesn’t die”, posted May 31st.

Drew left this voice mail for me at 7:27pm on April 4th, 2012, DrewBreesVM_4-4-12_7-27pm just after sending a similar text, requesting to review the “Tru Dat” essay I’d written to accompany the release of the Greg Williams audio.

Steve Gleason had texted me 26 minutes earlier, at 7:01pm to say that, “To be very clear… According to our contract it is illegal for you to release w/o my approval. And… you do NOT have my permission to release this audio/video footage.”

(To be clear: It WAS NOT illegal or in violation of our contract to release the audio and I did not require Steve’s approval, however myself, Scott Fujita & Drew Brees sought his blessing. Besides the fact that my producer drafted our co-production agreement, several attorneys have confirmed that this fact.)

Again, at 8:06pm Drew texted me, “Just talked to Scott. He does not want to see the message but Steve and I do…”

Drew Brees never expressed to me that he did not want the audio released, even though this was misreported by espn.com yesterday.  I asked multiple ESPN sources that this CORRECTION be made with this article but 23-hours later, the request has yet to be honored, even-tough the story was updated today at 1:38pm ET.  According to the text and voice mail, he continued to press for its release and lobbied me to send him my essay even after Steve Gleason had apparently changed his mind.

Finally, at 10:07pm, Steve again texted me, “Sean to be very clear according to our contract it is illegal for you to release w/o my approval And… you do NOT have my permission to release this audio/video footage.”

My producer & fiancé spoke with the editor from Yahoo! just after 11:30pm and shortly thereafter, the story went live. In fact, it would’ve gone out earlier but at the last minute, due to a technical complication on Yahoo’s part, we had to host the audio on our website and with our web designers on vacation we had to figure it out ourselves.

By the time the above correspondence took place it was too late to pull the story back. The article was written, a news organization was abuzz, a message had been left for Gregg Williams and a close friend of his had contacted Scott Fujita.

The play was underway & regardless of Steve Gleason’s last minute change-of-heart, there was no pulling it back.

Never did Drew communicate to me to pull-the-plug or that he had a change-of-heart. As far as I knew his prerequisites were 1.) that the, audio was released unedited, check (both a 3 1/2 min cut-down & full 13min. version were available on my website, 2.) that the timing was right (Scott communicated that according to D. Smith of the NFLPA, Drew wanted the audio to be released at a time when it would help Sean Payton. I had wanted to release the audio in early March.) and 3.) Drew & Steve wanted to vet my writing, to which my answer was, “no”. At this point I was a journalist and I asked them to respect my job and as far as I can tell this is where I crossed the line with Drew Brees.

Media inquires please contact:

Roxanne Davis

R/X Media

310.742.5076

roxane@roxanedavis.com

Starr@roxanedavis.com

Just after midnight on April 5th, 2012, I released an audio tape, in conjunction with an article written by Yahoo! Sports journalist, Mike Silver.    The repetitive line in the tape many considered “shocking,” was “Kill the head & the body dies.”

It was a coach telling his players how to play the game of football.

It was a metaphor, essentially saying that if you neutralize the opponents best player, you win the game.

The audio has since gained notoriety as being evidence of a “Bounty Program,” set in place by former New Orleans Saints defensive coordinator, Gregg Williams. Since his suspension for running said program, it has been stated by several former players that Williams had employed a similar business plan in his previous stops, as an NFL coach.  Williams was respected so much for the way he did his job that Saints coach Sean Payton reportedly volunteered to cut his salary in 2009 by $250,00, specifically to hire Williams.  It was an unprecedented courting of an assistant coach.  I was told by a couple of Saints players that Williams’ contract had a “Fuck you clause,” as he used to tell his players.  This meant he had complete autonomy and was in absolute charge of the defense.  It can be argued that no defensive coordinator wielded this much power since Buddy Ryan was battling Mike Ditka when they were the Dynamic Duo, coaching the 1985 Super Bowl champion, Chicago Bears.

According to the NFL, the Saints had been warned repeatedly for this behavior, over a three-year period.   The “Bounty System” was a program in which cash bonuses were allegedly paid to players for delivering “whack hits” to opponents, in an effort to purposely hurt them.  The intention was to injure them and to knock them out of the game, thus giving your team a better chance to win.  The audio for the entire 13 minutes I shot of the Williams speech was released uncut, as well as a 3 1/2 minute cut down version.  We never released the video.  The “master” shot–never before publicly seen picture–is Steve Gleason and his former New Orleans Saints teammate, Scott Fujita.

I was told that Fujita, currently a linebacker for the Cleveland Browns, was invited to deliver a pre-game speech.  And the invitation came from the recently suspended Saints head coach, Sean Payton.  This was a team he hadn’t played for in two years, yet Fujita’s leadership still carried significant weight with the core group he won a Super Bowl title with.  Fujita decided against delivering the speech, but made the trip anyway to help chaperone our mutual friend, Steve Gleason, who has ALS.

We were all going to attend the game the next day.

January 13th, 2012 It was the night before the Saints playoff game against the San Francicso 49ers and as per usual, when I showed up with Steve Gleason to places were the Saints were gathered, I was almost always rolling camera.  Steve wanted every interaction and every moment captured, regardless of whether it was going to be in our documentary film, or not.  The second day I knew Steve, I broached the subject of creating a video library for his child, so he could give his kid pieces of his mind and offer advice on how to live his life.  When Steve was diagnosed with ALS, he learned that his life expectancy would be 2-5 years.

This child was due to be born 6 months later.

During Williams’ speech that night, Gleason sat silent, staring straight ahead for most of the talk.  Fujita was siting directly behind him.  Occasionally Fujita would look down or rest his chin on his hands.  For most of the speech, he appeared disconnected from the scene.  When Gregg Williams began passing out envelopes for bonuses, at least one seemed to be for a “whack hit,” but most were performance-based, for “turnovers.”  As the money was to be doled out, many of the players began playfully screaming, “Give it back.  Give it back!”

When I read more about the system later, I surmised that “Give it back,” meant that the money was to be thrown back into the pool.

When they heard “Give it back, Give it back!,” both Steve Gleason and Scott Fujita broke out into smiles.  They were witnessing a male bonding moment that most of us who never played in the NFL, simply cannot fathom, or relate to.  And because this behavior had never been scrutinized, that very moment didn’t seem wrong.  Smiling didn’t seem inappropriate to men who had lived this life.

I had never heard the term, “whack hit,” so my radar never registered the impact of what that meant.  Also, I wasn’t paying attention to the coach, but rather trying to shoot two cameras simultaneously.  One on Williams power point presentation with my hand held camera, so I could match those images to what Steve and Scott were seeing.  But when to coached called for his players to specifically target a man with a concussion history, I felt uneasy about being in a room where this was considered business as usual.

15 minutes after the meeting ended, I was sitting at a table in a room where players and coaches were sampling from a buffet.  Scott Fujita and Gregg Williams exchanged pleasantries, as his former coach passed by with a plate of food.

Fujita looked at me and said under his breath, “I can’t believe I used to be that guy,” referring to once being part of the scene we had just witnessed.

Much as he had in the previous eight months I knew him, the 33-year-old Scott Fujita expressed a distinct disconnect with the tackle football culture, which he had been immersed in for the better part of 25 years. He no longer gave impassioned pre-game speeches, even to his current Cleveland Browns teammates.  In fact he told me (on camera) three months earlier–and on a few other occasions–it was all but certain, he would be retiring after the 2011 season.  So this was clearly a man looking in the rear-view mirror and reflecting on some things he regretted from the road less traveled.

Scott Fujita and I had many conversations previous to January 13th, 2012 about the implications of brain trauma as a result of playing tackle football.  I had already interviewed several doctors and specialists about the game’s lasting affects on football players, from pee wee to the pro’s.  My project was to be a cultural examination of football in this country and an intimate portrait of the life-cycle of the football player.  I have been a huge fan of the game since I was seven, but stopped playing it in Junior high school.  I never played tackle.

“The United States of Football” started out as my journey to find out whether or not I wanted to let my son play.

As a member of the NFLPA’s Executive Committee, Fujita was one of the most outspoken players in the league when it came to protecting players.  In fact during the NFL lockout the previous summer, an impassioned Fujita e-mail was published and disseminated nationally.

“…More and more, our brothers fall victim to ALS, dementia and depression, among other afflictions.  My heart screams for these men.  Add to that the hip and knee replacements that are sure to come up in 10,15,20 years after we stop playing.  And through the whole PR battle that’s currently being waged, in what some are calling a battle of greed between “millionaires and billionaires,” the players have asked for nothing.  Ultimately, we just want to be taken care of after we leave this game.  

My message to the NFL: You say you care about us…Now please, prove it.  For the sake of guys like (former players who passed away or were crippled from playing football) Andre Watters, O.J. Brigance, Orlando Thomas, Earl Campbell and Mike Webster…prove it.” (Spring 2011)

–Scott Fujita,

Just a couple months later, after the lockout had ended, I visited Fujita and interviewed him on camera–in uniform–after the Browns training camp practice.  By this time   I had been shooting my film, “The United States of Football,” for nearly 16 months.  I asked Fujita if he had a 12-year old son, would he let him play?

“If I had a son, fuck no I would never let him play football! And this is my journey my wife and I decided to take on.  But I wouldn’t want that for one of my kids.  No way in hell!” 

His response was emphatic and without a second of hesitation.  It made me immediately question why I was still considering letting my own son play the game.

Fujita followed that up by saying he tells guys in the locker room that soccer would be America’s national sport within the next generation.  Also, the worlds best athletes would no longer be subjecting themselves to the consequences and results of playing tackle football.

All conversations had transpired before that January 13, 2012 “Bounty-Gate” speech Gregg Williams delivered.

Our mutual friend, Steve Gleason, had been diagnosed with ALS a year to the week, before that speech.  During the filming of our documentary (exclusively about Gleason) I had literally seen Steve lose a tremendous amount of his motor functions.  That weekend in San Francisco, Scott would help towel dry Steve off after a shower, put on his shoes for him and zip and un-zip his pants for Steve to urinate.  I shot most of this for the documentary I was shooting about the journey of Steve and his wife Michel, as they face the uphill fight against a disease, which only travels downhill.  Fifteen minutes after listening to Gregg Williams ask his players to go to the head of other players, specifically targeting a player with a concussion history, Scott Fujita was feeding Steve Gleason because his friend no longer had the dexterity to comfortably eat by himself.

On March 2nd, 2012, the NFL announced that Gregg Williams was going to be punished for running the “Bounty Program” in New Orleans for the previous three seasons.  He had recently been hired by the St. Louis Rams, but would soon be suspended.  It was publicly disclosed that the program had existed during the time that Fujita played for the team.  I had never heard of such a program and Scott had never talked to me about it.

Two days later I reached out to let him know that I had discovered “clean audio” of Gregg Williams speech, covered exclusively with the image of he and Gleason.  We were sitting where Gleason chose to, which was in the back of the room, near the exit.  I had the continuously running camera facing the two of them because they were the “primary” action in the scene and Gregg Williams’ speech was a non-factor, so it did not matter that the camera was facing away from the speech giver.   Gregg Williams wasn’t the story and I wasn’t concerned about his audio level.

On March 7th, 2012, Fujita texted me and said he was “appalled” by what Williams had said, but because of his personal feeling for his former coach, he wasn’t going to be comfortable using the audio, even if it were “desperation time.”  I had already broached he idea of making it public.  By this time Fujita had been informed that he was under investigation by the league and players names were quite possibly were going to be made public.

He was clearly concerned.

I let him know that because I had been shooting his conflicted feelings about the game of football for the previous year, it would not seem like revisionist history, or damage control, if he continued to be honest.  I had never met the guy he “used to be,” but certainly felt the guy I knew had a message to share about the realities of football.  I wanted to make sure it was heard and not dismissed because of these newfound revelations.  Also, he is fearless and speaks his mind and was going to be a powerful voice in my documentary.

In addition, I admired him greatly for his public support of same sex marriage and a woman’s right to choose.  Most athletes won’t say anything straying from the party line.  In addition, he was my friend and I didn’t want him screwed over and misunderstood because I felt strongly we needed more stand-up men like this in the world.

On March 14th, 2012, Scott Fujita sent myself and Steve Gleason a text, which was in response to Steve’s concerns about whether or not the tape should be made public.  I had been lobbying HARD for days, claiming in a text to Gleason and Fujita that we had a civic responsibility.  Scott had already told me he and his wife were both “sick about it.”  He texted that he was once “semi-complicit” in that culture. which made him feel even worse.  We had discussed the idea of me releasing it anonymously and had a short list of journalists who I was considering contacting and giving it to.  I didn’t want to attach my name to it.  I feared that if I released it, my motives would be questioned and I would be attacked without justification.

INSERT CIVIC DUTY TEXT

Fujita and his wife had watched the audio with the adjoining video, which to this day, has never been seen by the public.  As I recall, by this time Steve and his wife, Michel Gleason had seen the tape, as well.  I had asked Steve to do a journal on camera about how a man in his condition felt hearing Gregg Williams’ words.  Steve and Michel were very upset for different reasons and expressed serious concern about how this would affect Steve’s relationship with the Saints. They were emphatic Steve wasn’t willing to “burn that bridge.”  Scott presented both our cases in this extensive text and said he believed the decision should be solely mine and that I should take their opinions into consideration and do what I believed to be the correct thing.  He said flatly is should be my call “independent of you and me,” he directed to Steve.

Fujita’s text went on to say that this wasn’t about the Saints at all, but rather it was “an indictment on the culture of football, a big part of which is still archaic & has yet to evolve.”

Scott Fujita’s anthemic text continued, as he invoked his wife’s “shock” at watching the video which made them both cry.  “She said she felt sorry for me that I had been part of something for so long that made me desensitized to the suffering of another.  Her second thought:  People who say things like that to a group of impressionable men, shouldn’t be able to lead a group of impressionable men.”

Two days later Fujita texted me and said we should probably drop it because Steve and Michel were under tremendous stress and they needed to focus on his wellness.  I complied, but I said I would talk to them in person two days later just to explain why I felt it was so important.

March 18th, 2012, We were at Steve and Michel’s modest 2-bedroom house in New Orleans.  First I spoke to Steve Gleason on-camera, for an hour.  And then I spoke to Steve and Michel together for another hour and showed them a significant amount of footage for my USOF film.  I showed them wives having to take care of their fallen husbands and hoped they would relate to the message.  Steve tells me that the only way he would consider releasing the audio would be if not only the Saints were in favor of the release, but Scott Fujita and Saints  superstar quarterback Drew Brees, as well.

Later that night I texted Steve and Scott, “I am dropping my current request, but I regret deeply the missed opportunity.  That audio would have had a real cultural impact.”  I reiterated a point I had made to both of them before.  I felt possessing this material could potentially put me in danger because it was so damning to the National Football League and the culture Fujita had referred to as “archaic” four days earlier.  Perhaps this was misguided, but it made me VERY uncomfortable.

30 minutes later I texted Gleason and suggested he play the tape for Saints general manager Mickey Loomis, but to please not mention I was in possession of it.  Steve never showed the tape to Loomis, as far as I know.  Two days later I had suggested he not show Loomis until after the player punishments were doled out.

In the aftermath of the scandal breaking, my good friend and former New Orleans Saint, Kyle Turley had called Drew Brees out publicly.  He challenged Brees to stand up and speak to whether or not he knew about the program.  Brees texted Kyle and later that evening they spoke for over an hour.  Drew repeatedly denied he knew anything about it.  Subsequently, Kyle stated publicly that if Drew gave him his word, that was good enough for him.

Because Scott Fujita was a defensive leader of that 2009 Saints, Kyle felt he would have first-hand knowledge of what was going down and he should have stood up and put a stop to it.  “He’s not just a player, he’s a player advocate,” Kyle fumed.  “The dudes on the Executive Committee.  Are you shitting me?”

In detailed texts I told Kyle that Scott was a principled man who was doing great things with the National Football League Players Association and that he cares about the suffering of former players, greatly.  I told Kyle to trust me.  “Fujita is a stand-up guy, PLEASE leave him out of this when you do radio shows and t.v. appearances.”

It was apparent to me that all during this time Scott Fujita felt this audio would address a public heath concern.  He knew it was quite significant, but he was clearly torn because of the Gleason’s personal concerns and quite understandably, he had considerable love and affection for his former teammate, who was now living with ALS.  I empathized with him because neither Steve, nor myself was truly willing to stand down from our positions.  It was as if Scott was hopelessly stuck between the irresistible force and immovable object.  And Steve and I were destined to collide with full force.

I agreed to table it for the time being and lobbied to at least be able to use it in my documentary, “The United States of Football.”

March 22nd, 2012–Scott Fujita texts me from the NFLPA player rep meetings in Florida.  He requested I send the audio to him so he could play it for the NFLPA’s investigative lawyers.  I texted Scott that we had just found footage from a second camera, with Gregg Williams on camera giving the speech.  We would send both of them Florida.  The following day Scott reached out for Michel Gleason’s blessing to play this audio for the NFLPA and she gave him the “okay.”  Somehow Michel had moved into the position of being the person who was making this call.  I didn’t feel that was appropriate and a palpable chasm developed between us.

March 24th, 2012–By this time I am aware the NFLPA leadership knows that I am in possession of this explosive material.  According to Scott, they plan to make the NFL aware that they know of the existence of an audio tape of Gregg Williams speaking this way to the team.  They planned to do this without actually playing the tape for the league.  The NFL knew I was doing a film about Steve Gleason because I had mentioned it to NFL spokesman, Greg Aiello a few times during my failed attempts to land an interview with Roger Goodell.  By this time I had become a thorn in Aiello’s side and I wasn’t dropping my request to meet with the Commissioner.

After the NFLPA decided to approach the NFL, I text Scott and begin to express in a much more strident tone that now I am feeling quite vulnerable and do not feel it is fair to my family, that I am not making this material public, especially with these powerful corporations knowing I have it.  Scott implies I am being paranoid and re-asserts his position that Steve, Michel and I need to make this decision for ourselves.  Steve clearly texts he still does not grant his approval to the release of the audio.  Throughout this entire time, Steve Gleason never considered the fact that contractually–as per our production agreement–I did not need his approval.

In fact, I was only asking for his blessing because I didn’t want to sever my friendship and film project with him.  Also I had grown very attached to the extended group of family and friends who I became incredibly close with over the previous year.

But somehow, at this juncture, I also needed the Saints, Fujita, Brees and Michel Gleason all to sign off on this.  I began to deeply resent being in what I thought was a no-win situation. I called my former film partner (“playing with RAGE,” and “Run Ricky Run”), Royce Toni to ask him if he would be wiling to finish the project because I was inclined to walk away from Steve Gleason’s film.  I just wanted someone I trusted to take it to completion.

March 25th, 2012–In light of the NFL’s decision to destroy the “Spygate Tapes” from 2007, again I express to Scott Fujita my personal safety concerns about not releasing this material, which could potentially be far more damaging to the league, from a public relations perspective.  I remind Scott that all players, including himself will one day be former players.  That they will be the very men his “heart screams for,” as he wrote in his impassioned e-mail during the lockout.  That they might have to deal with the ramifications of men like Gregg Williams targeting their heads.  Scott suggests I speak to NFLPA lawyer, Heather McPhee, who convinces me to drop the issue for the time being.  Again I tell Steve Gleason I will not be pursuing this matter “in the immediate future.”

Drew Brees texts me later that night, “Hey Sean, hope you are doing alright.  I wanted to reassure you of everything.  How are you feeling?  Drew”

I reiterate my concerns to Drew about my family being vulnerable and the potential fallout for me.  I text Brees, the exposure scared the crap out of me because it’s a big deal and an even bigger business.

By this time, Drew Brees is fully aware of the situation and was in consultations with Fujita.  Brees is a fellow NFLPA Executive Committee member and had just attended to player rep meetings in Florida for a few days.  As with Fujita, Drew was on the public record as being quite concerned about health and safety issues for players in the NFL.  He is also reviled by many former players because a few years prior, he was on the record criticizing the men who ran into post-career difficulty because of their poor investments and multiple marriages.  It wasn’t understood so clearly when Brees made those comments, but today many within the game realize that these former players weren’t just depressed because the cheering had stopped.  They had a difficult time dealing because their heads, not only from concussions, but also, because they had been subjected to “repetitive head trauma.”

There are currently over 2,000 former players who have filed lawsuits against the NFL and plenty of evidence to suggest that the league could have done more to inform the players of the ramifications of the way the game was being played and dealt with medically.  I have interviewed the two of the lawyers who filed the initial suit, Jason Luckasevic and Tom Girardi and they are quite confident when they present the facts of this case, they will be victorious.

April 2nd, 2012–By this time I had dropped the issue, altogether.  But then Scott re-engages me about the Gregg Williams audio.  “Just curious, what is your ‘vision’ for the release of the Saints meeting?”

I text Scott back that I am “waiting for the punishments to be doled out and get your feedback before I do anything.  I don’t know if releasing it publicly soon is appropriate because it might seem shady I waited…I just don’t know anymore…”

I explain that this process has exhausted me and my relationship with Steve and Michel is quite strained and that I have asked Royce Toni, to consider replacing me.

As far as the specific use of the audio, I had given up on releasing it and was thinking of using only the picture of he and Steve without the accompanying audio in my film, “The United States of Football.”  If Steve would not consent to this, I intended to split the screen and cut Steve out.  I would display the words of Greg Willams in white graphics over the black backdrop with Scott staring screen right to screen left.  I would interview Scott about how he felt in that moment.  At this point Scott Fujita’s feelings about what went down in that room that night were still very much the same.  He knew we had witnessed a criminal act and he hadn’t mentioned feeling conflicted about protecting his former coach, in several weeks.

We both knew the science and the ramifications of head trauma.  We knew how the release of the Gregg Williams audio would create a moment of pause to consider and reflect on the horrific damage this game has done to many, not all.  My long-since stated mission was to provide informed consent and proper care for the children and men who play the game “the right way,” as it is referred to by so many who laud and glorify tackle football.  Many of these people refuse to take a realistic look “under the hood.”

A few hours later I read that there might be a possibility of “criminal charges” against players who were part of the Bounty Program and I reach out to Fujita to inquire?

Fujita texts back, “I’m convinced the league doesn’t really have shit on anybody.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow to talk about other stuff,” he concludes in his text.

April 3rd, 2012–Scott calls me in the late morning and tells me that NFLPA lawyer, Heather McPhee had asked him if his “filmmaker friend” was still interested in releasing the audio.  They weren’t going to tell me to do it, but If I were still considering this, I might want to do it “the sooner the better.”

Not even for a second did I pause and consider the NFLPA’s motive for this particular timing.  And to this day I cannot say with a certainty.  But I immediately got on the phone to Mike Silver from Yahoo! Sports because I respect his talent, appreciate his fearless writing and trust him.  Some players have claimed he “burned them” in the past.  Often times, that’s a euphemism for, “he told too much of the truth.”  This story was going to have a lot of truth.

I have known “Silver” for almost 15 years.  The story was finally going to come out and I was going to have this burden off my plate.  Scott assures me that Drew Brees is fully on board with releasing the audio.  The game plan was Drew would be talking to Steve and Michel to let them know their interests are protected and he supports the move because it will help his Saints teammates.  The theory was that the audio would pin everything on their former defensive coach and mitigate the player penalties.

Just before 4pm–with Mike already a few hours into writing the story–Scott texts me, “I’m kind of actually excited about all this.  Have no idea what’s going to come of it, but at least I like that my boys (you and Silver) will be famous.”

“That’s the part that scares the fuck out of me,” I text back.

I wanted to release this audio and hopefully affect the change that Scott and I had been talking about for months.  Informed consent for children and their parents.  A complete paradigm shift in the way coaches deal with players.  And more than anything, true awareness of the science and all the ways the game could be improved in order to prevent the suffering of many who had played it at the highest levels.  Personally, I have friends who are former players and I believe it is absolutely egregious that vested former NFL players only have their medical costs covered for their first five years, post-football.  Many of their maladies appear long after that.

We wanted to aid the plight of the retired players who could no longer function and were either too ashamed of their circumstance, or weren’t mentally capable of self-diagnosing and seeking the help they desperately needed.

Scott reassures me soon thereafter that Drew Brees agrees with the NFLPA lawyers that the audio should be released “sooner the better.”  In addition, Scott had left Steve a message telling him as much.  At this point I felt we were in lock-step and there would be no stumbling blocks.

At 4:45pm Scott texts me, “Any thought on when the audio will be played for the world?  Hearing it is obviously much more alarming than reading it.  Just curious.”

Scott follows with a series of texts filling me with a bunch of facts and ideas and suggestions for Mike Silvers article that I can present as my own.  I tell him I am only writing what I believe to be true.

At 6:07pm Scott texts me, “You need to write a book when all is said and done.  Silver and I will compete for (writing) the foreward.”

Scott continues on with a series of ideas and things I can say in my essay and Silver’s article.  At the end of a furious, long stream of consciousness rant, he texts me,

“…consciousness inside the NFL bubble, but blind to reality.  That’s the world the NFL wants for it’s constituency.  Time for you and Silver to burst the bubble.”

Fujita also alludes to the fact he will eventually write a book exposing the dark side of the NFL.   “I have A LOT more material to share with the world!”

Drew Brees calls me at close to 9pm and we talk for about 20 minutes.  I am video taping my side of the conversation, as I know I am dealing with powerful people and believe I need an accurate record of what transpired.  If this went bad, I knew no one would believe me.  Early in my conversation with Brees, I realize that either what Scott Fujita had told me is incorrect, or Drew Brees is calling an audible.  Drew is saying we need to “wait for the right time” to release the audio.  I inform him that there is no going back and that the article has already been in the works for several hours.  I tell him that there is no way I am leaving town (in 34 hours) for 4 days with all of this up and the air.  I tell him emphatically, I will not leave my family with all these people knowing about it and the audio still unreleased.  As a father of two sons, himself, I expected him to understand.

Two months earlier I had interviewed Drew for “The United States of Football,” in his hotel room in Indianapolis.  We were both there for the Super Bowl.  Before the brief interview began I handed him a talent release, allowing me to display his interview in the film.  Standard operating procedure.  Kurt Warner didn’t hesitate signing is and he won a Super Bowl and played in three.  The NFLPA Executive Director, DeMaurice Smith didn’t hesitate.

But Drew Brees did a double take and looked me in the eye, “Are these okay?”

There was a pause because I was a bit taken aback.  I had been around Drew many times while shooting Steve Gleason the previous months.  I had interviewed him for 45 minutes at the Saints facility about Steve.  But the USOF wasn’t a biographical film.  It was a social commentary.

“They’re okay,” I responded, looking him directly in the eye and tacitly  demanding he sign them by creating an uncomfortable moment.  They were standard releases.  He signed them and we conducted a brief interview.  The last question I asked him was about letting my son play tackle football and when would he let his boys play?  He said because of the science and information he has gathered, he wouldn’t even consider the possibility until his kids were at least 13.  Somehow I forgot those releases in Drew’s hotel room and when I asked for them later that night, he decided his agent needed to look a them first.  Thing is, is he had already signed them and went on the record with his comments.  Words cannot describe how unprofessional it is for an athlete to do that to someone in my profession.  It is literally a Cardinal Sin in my business.  I believe it was his marketing agent who balked and  said no dice, eventually, without them being able to see the ENTIRE film, first.  To sign a release and sit for an on-the-record interview and then back out is beyond professionally inappropriate.  It would be like an official taking away a touchdown because “they felt like it.”

His representative told my production partner that he was not interested in seeing the bold headline, “Drew Brees in concussion documentary.”

I never forgot that.  Therefore, after that moment, I never trusted Drew to be a stand-up guy, like I knew Scott Fujita to be.

So when I am on the phone with Drew the night before this audio is to be released and he starts talking about waiting for “the right time” to release this audio, I began to get a really bad feeling.  I text Scott and am insisting that Drew Brees is “not calling the play” and the All-World quarterback, needs to understand this.

Scott texts back, “He’s probably just really hypersensitive right now.”

I text, “We have been talking specifics all day.  If Drew gets bent , PLEASE make absolutely sure that Steve and Michel know that I did not do this rogue.”

April 4th, 2012–Scott texts me at 7:46am and tells me, “Drew will be fine.  Just left him a long message.  Like I said everyone is hypersensitive right now.”

Drew Brees had just texted me again and mentioned I might release the audio, “uncut” so people wouldn’t think it was tampered with.

Scott immediately proceeds back on point and continues directing me (via text) on things to say in the Silver article and my essay, “Tru Dat”.

He suggests I should mention that Roger Goodell never sat for an interview with me, even though I’m the “biggest advocate for health and safety in the journalism world.”  He also mentions I should stroke DeMaurice Smith for being “generous with his time.”  I had interviewed Smith for 90 minutes at the NFLPA headquarters in Washington DC about five months earlier.

He texts, “not attempting to tell you what to write (which his clearly was), but it kind of paints of picture of good vs. evil.”

Drew Brees continues to persist in wanting to see my essay but Fujita is content with not seeing it at all.  He says its my call, but Drew can be trusted, if I decide to show it to him.  My fear was that Drew would send it to his agent or the NFLPA.  If he hadn’t been circumspect after our previous interview, it’s possible I would have afforded him this courtesy.  Regardless, I wasn’t going to be letting anyone do my job for me and I had made that clear on multiple occasions.

At 3:12 in the afternoon Fujita texts me right after a conversation with DeMaurice Smith and says Smith “brought up the release of the audio and  his only question was if it will be released raw or edited?”

This communication is HUGELY important because nearly two weeks later the NFLPA publicly did what I consider to be a disservice toward me.   When ESPN’s Chris Mortensen reported that the NFLPA knew about the audio’s existence, the NFLPA released a statement claiming they were “somewhat disappointed” that I released the material.

“Somewhat disappointed?”  Really?  I guess I didn’t release it fast enough because “sooner the better” was something I understood pretty clearly from sources close to the action.

At 6:09 pm Scott texts me and tells me that he just heard from a friend of Gregg Williams we had met a half-hour after Williams’ infamous speech in San Francisco on January 13th.  Williams’ buddy asked Scott to touch base with him.  It’s clear by this point that Mike Silver–as he said he would–has done his job as a responsible journalist and called Williams for comment on the release of the audio.

 

At this point, there truly is NO GOING BACK.

 

Just after 8pm that night Drew Brees calls and leaves me a voicemail, asking me kindly to send he and Steve Gleason a copy of the 15 page-essay “Tru Dat” because they want to see it before it comes out.  He doesn’t know that Scott said he didn’t think they had the right to insist and thought it was my call whether to share the information beforehand.  As usual, Fujita was respecting the fact I had a job to do.  After all, I wasn’t telling these men how to do theirs.

In the voicemail, Brees never says NOT to release it.  He never says Steve is against it, either.  He only asks that they  be able to read it.  They want to see the essay before the audio is released to the public, so they are prepared, he elaborates.

I’m smelling a thick layer of bullshit at this point and feel strongly that if I give it to them they are going to take a red pen to it.  The irony is if they knew what I was writing about the Saints, I can’t imagine they would have objected.  What they are not appreciating was that I was refusing to do what they wanted.  They clearly were not used to that.

Steve texts me after Drew’s call, asking  me to e-mail them the essay.  I refuse to and say i will read it to them on the phone only if Scott Fujita is on the call with us.  In a 4-way text I tell Brees, Gleason and Fujita that I am not going to read the essay unless Fujita is on the phone.  Fujita declines, says he has given his opinion to all of us and that he is done speaking on the issue.

I am completely STUNNED.  The day before Fujita had asked me if I was afraid of losing access to subjects by going public with this material.  I told him I felt my work transcended sports and if I didn’t have access to team facilities, I could care less because none of my best work was done there.  Plus, I get into people’s homes and they trust me because I am heart-centered and never try to be something I’m not, which is the exact opposite of what most athletes deal with each and every day.

My real fear, I told Scott was going doing something of this magnitude and be stranded without teammates.  And when he refused to get on the phone, I realized I was now engulfed in my own self-fulfilling prophecy.

I feel like the tag-team I was on disintegrated and now I was playing an individual sport against a beloved quarterback who happens to be Madison Avenue’s wet dream. Drew Brees is cast as the perfect guy and a few months earlier I had professed to my fiancee my unabashed man crush for this dude.  Once he started calling me by my first name and giving me the bro-dog handshake, I was pretty stoked.  I NEVER get that way around athletes.  I just thought this man was top-shelf in every way, on and off the field.

But even more daunting than being pitted against Drew?

I’m also feeling cornered by the man who made the play voted by Saints fans as the most significant moment in the history of the franchise.

Steve Gleason blocked the punt that created “the biggest beer spill in history” according to a local, who along with 70,000 fans, lost their mind in that euphoric moment.  That single play, which occurred on the teams very first series of downs when the Superdome re-opened after Katrina.  In a couple mere seconds, he re-invigorated an entire region.  It is “The Shot Heard ‘Round The World,” for the city of New Orleans.  It also occurred on Monday Night Football, on a night when U2 played live.  It was EPIC.

Steve is a New Orleans cult-hero and he has a terminal illness.

There is a reason whey the people in NOLA will not consider I just might be telling the truth.  Because it will make a mythical figure, quite human.  Most people need see their heroes as flawless.  I get it.

The worst part for me was that MY teammate, the fellow wannabe activist and free spirit, had just dropped me into the abyss without a second of warning.

Scott Fujita had re-initiated the dialog on april 2nd .  Green lit the release on April 3rd.  And on April 4th, he was an emphatic cheerleader for the cause…

And then on April 5th, he vanished like Keyser Soze!

If anyone has ever drawn a shittier hand in a game of poker than I was dealt in that moment, please raise your hand.  I see no hands and I am sitting here with no chips to play.

I KNOW I am so fucked at this point that I might as well go down with my dignity because there is no way in hell I was going to let these guys think they can do my job.

I refuse to read the essay to Brees and Gleason and Gleason’s next text says what I am doing is “illegal” and he is “NOT” giving me permission to do this.  Once again, I never needed him to grant it.

By this time I have broken out into a major stress reaction.  My chronic circulatory condition flares up.  I am bedridden and on the way to 102.5 fever, which doesn’t break for a few days.  So when people thought I was hiding and not available publicly the next day?  I was actually in tremendous pain, under several blankets, shivering and trying to sweat out the toxins from my infection.

April 5th, 2012–I am inundated with media requests.  News comes out of New Orleans that Steve Gleason’s camp is preparing a statement which says I was “unauthorized” to do this.  The first statement in “The Bleacher Report” from “someone in Gleason’s” inner circle states that the footage was being shot strictly for a library for his son, which was categorically incorrect and certainly designed to generate some immediate hatred toward me.  I text Fujita looking for his intervention before Gleason’s actual statement comes out.  When Fujita calls me, he lets me know that he has spoken to Steve and Michel and he was “crying to them” and was extremely emotional and apologetic toward them.

He did not apologize to me or my family for telling me to release this material, “sooner the better.”

I had been in discussions with Kyle Turley throughout the entire process and he told me not to trust Scott Fujita to the degree I had.  Turley told me that over and over.  I didn’t listen and was completely embarrassed when I spoke to Kyle after the audio was released.  Of course, KT never once said, “I told you so.”  He just went out very publicly and said I did the right thing.  Since then his musical fan base in New Orleans–the place where he had drawn his biggest support–had dwindled and many people hate him because of his association with me.

Kyle supported my decision even though he used to play football with Steve Gleason. For Turley, this is bigger than team colors.  Kyle’s grandfather died of ALS and to this day the “Turleyband” plays benefit concerts for Team Gleason.  At the last show he played in NOLA, there was a sparse crowd and not a single Team Gleason member came to support.  Kyle sought Steve out and gave him his appearance fee and the modest monies raised from the event.

Kyle Turley is a true stand-up guy and you will never find a more loyal teammate.

April 6th, 2012–Steve Gleason’s camp releases a statement which says that I wasn’t “authorized” to do this.  The public perception of my action completely shifts and the dialog changes from Gregg Williams’ criminal behavior, asking his players to assault with the intent to injure other players, to “filmmaker betrays dying friend.”

At 4:29pm in the afternoon–after Gleason’t statement had spread and according to Google, it had been reported over 1,600 times.

Scott Fujita texts me and says that he has been in touch with Gleason’s camp.  “I think they’re hoping to find a peaceful resolution to all of this and that someone from their camp might be reaching out to you.  I just feel like there has to be a way for everyone to move forward & make something positive with all this.  Now I am shutting my phone off again:)”

45 minutes later I release a statement through Yahoo! Sports!.  We shared our production agreement we had with Steve and Michel Gleason.  The contract clearly showed we were not in violation of the agreement.  The contract stated in the event that the two production companies making the film had a disagreement, there was a 5th voting member to break ties on all of our important decisions.  We redacted that 5th name and have never made it public.

In the Yahoo article I also mentioned that we had a “third party” who was acting as an intermediary between Steve and I and that person told us to release the material, “sooner the better.”

The 5th voting member and the “third party” obviously agreed with our decision to release the material because they were the same person.

 

Scott Fujita.

 

April 9th, 2012–I am still trying to find a way to create peaceful resolution.  I hear that Steve Gleason is in town for a couple days and staying with Pearl Jam guitarist, Mike McCready, who is going to be doing the music for the Gleason project.  I send a skit I have written to Steve and his representatives.  The idea is to make light of the situation and show our solidarity.  Steve’s lawyer sends and e-mail and says “Steve laughed for the first time in four days,” after reading the skit. SKIT TEXT

I text Drew Brees and Scott Fujita and let them know I have Non-Disclosure Agreements I am willing to sign and for this to be behind us and move forward.  Steve vacillates regarding the skit idea and what could have all dissolved in laughter, would now drag on and put everyone at further risk.

Fujita immediately responds regarding the NDA and gets the ball rolling with Heather McPhee, the NFLPA lawyer who would be contacting me.  I speak to Heather and explain that I am going to give Scott (and only Scott) an NDA and this matter will not be spoken about publicly.  This is to be a deal between Scott and myself.  I hadn’t heard back from Drew and Gleason still, had not agreed to doing the skit.  I just felt at some point soon Scott would stand up and tell the truth, or I would have to do it. I proposed the NDA because I didn’t want to lie for him, but I also didn’t want to publicly out a man who I thought had good intentions, but he made a horribly soft decision in a moment where strength was called for.

Within the hour McPhee sends back an agreement that not only covers Scott but, “all NFL players,” with regard to the topic of the Gregg Williams audio.   This agreement was clearly not what I had spoken to her about and there was no way for that conversation to be misinterpreted.  The only assumption I could make was that other NFL player she was concerned about, must have been Drew Brees.  I thought of those releases in Indianapolis and asked my producer to change the NDA to the reflect our original intention.  Only Scott Fujita was getting that NDA.

I send Fujita a text at 2:26pm “I wish you would not have sent me to a (NF)PA lawyer.  That smells a little shitty.”

Fujita responds, “Just send the NDA.  Once you sign & e-mail to me, I’ll sign and send a copy back to you.  Thanks buddy.”

I text back shortly thereafter, “What I spoke to Heather (McPhee) about was not reflective of the conversation we had, as it relates to this contract and I was very specific with her.  Justin is writing something up that covers you.  I will have a signed copy in your e-mail shortly.  I am not discussing this further with you or her, so do not have her contact me.  Just say, ‘thank you’ or we move on and you will just have to trust me.”

I sent the e-mail to Scott Fujita with the signed NDA and when I talked to him on the phone I told him I was just signing the one with him because I had every intention of telling the truth at some point and I was sensitive to the position he was put in. He should have never had to mediate between the two different agenda’s of myself and Steve Gleason.

What I failed to grasp in the moment was that I had dropped the issue. Scott brought it back April 2nd and the urging of the NFLPA.

April 10th, 2012–I still had not gotten a signed copy of the NDA back from Scott Fujita by noon the following day.  I texted him, “That release, which protects you, isn’t valid for us both until you sign it and send it back to me.  I’m getting a strange vibe off you, Scott.”

When McPhee sent the mutual non-disclosure agreement, it was structured for both of us to sign.

She sent an e-mail saying, “Agreements have more validity if they are executed by both parties.”

To this day, Scott Fujita never executed that NDA.

April 13th–2012–The NFL Security office calls me four times and is asking that I turn over the Gregg Williams tapes to Roger Goodell’s office.    I text Scott and ask him to contact me regarding this matter.

April 14th, 2012–Scott Fujita texts me, “I would ignore the NFL if I were you.  They clearly want the tapes to see if there’s anything they can use to further implicate players, mainly because they don’t have shit, other than heresay and anecdotal evidence of tough talk.  I’ve been denying their request for an interview for weeks now because there’s nothing good that can come out of that.  That’s why it’ll be hilarious when I show up at their offices on Monday with the rest of the Executive Committee to discuss other issues.  No more NFL talk.  Fuck them.”

April 19th–Two days after Drew Brees is quoted in a published report that there is no meaningful “evidence” that a bounty system exists, I sent Scott a text saying, “Are you gong to leave me to hang out to dry, publicly, Scott?  I”m getting fucked hard and my future is at stake. Do any of you care?  I don’t need you in this film (“The United States of Football”) but I thought you had more character than this.  I am a fucking human being with a family.  Seriously.  I took care of you on my own accord and you are sitting back, talking to lawyers while the wolves eat me alive…wake the fuck up, dude and listen to your goddamn conscience.”

Soon thereafter I take Scott Fujita’s picture off our website and let him know we are no longer interested in him participating in “The United States of Football.”

May 17th, 2012–After weeks of misinformation and speculation about my motivations, I travel to NFL headquarters in New York and go to the front desk and ask to speak to Roger Goodell.  I tell them I am there to show him the Bounty-Gate tapes.  I also bring a note for him.  My request is refused but I was told the note would be passed along if I showed the footage to their security team.  I didn’t show them the tape with Steve and Scott on it, but I showed them the tape that had a mere minute and 19 seconds of Gregg Williams on it.  I let them listen to both tapes.  For the first time they heard it without any audio distortion and could completely pick up what was being said in the room.  They were taking notes and at one point asked if we could send them another audio source.  My film producer complied.

A few weeks earlier their reporter Albert Breer had written that I had “Secretly” taped that meeting with Gregg Williams.  In addition, when one of Steve Gleason’s many legal advisors, implied I might have done something illegal, I thought he must be kidding.  I smoked weed with that dude in his kitchen in New Orleans shortly after we met.  This was all becoming too surreal.  But I wasn’t laughing.

All of this has damaged me significantly in the pubic eye.  As an independent filmmaker, who specializes in intimate stories which require trust, being depicted in this way, is devastating.  This does not go away without considerable explanation and clear facts.

I went to NY to clear my name and to tell the NFL to please not allow anymore to disseminate incorrect information about me to anymore lapdog league journalists.  And when I released my statement (this one), I wanted them to release theirs, stating that I cooperated fully.  The NFL agreed to respect this request and I texted an NFL security representative this morning to make them aware I was going public to defend my name.

I just wanted all this to be over.  I wanted my kid to be able to google me without fear of being upset by all the venom.  I just want people to really understand why I did this and nearly 10,000 words later, I hope I have made myself clear.

May 21st–I text Scott Fujita, “I sent you an e-mail.  I am in serious trouble.  I know I have been angry, but please do not tune me out.”

In the e-mail I discuss with Scott the dramatic turn my life has taken, the pressure I am under and the fractures it has caused in my relationships with people close to me.  I tell him I need for him to clarify my role in this matter.

 

My plea for fairness and guidance fell on deaf ears and he does not respond.

 

May 23rd–The Final Straw…Scott Fujita reports to the first day of the Cleveland Browns OTA’s and makes his first verbal statement.  He started his first press conference off by saying, “Fire Away.”

As the questions poured forward.  He repeatedly referred to a pat answer of, “I stand by my previous statement.”

In that statement he denied ever paying men to hurt other men.  In fact, on the day he was suspended, I tweeted that if he ever paid a man to hurt another man, or took money for doing so, I would “cut one of my testicles off and chew on it.”

I believe this with every ounce of my being because I have seen the gentle side of Scott Fujita.  I have been in his home and seen him as a doting, loving, sensitive husband and attentive father to his children.  I have seen his lips quiver as he cried when he tried not to on multiple occasions.  He was talking about his suffering friend, Steve Gleason.  I have seen his humanity on many levels, which is the very reason I wanted to protect him from the scrutiny I have endured since he told me “the sooner the better,” on April 3rd.

But what I haven’t seen is that concern for my circumstance, my reputation and my family, reciprocated.

As his 10-minute press conference continued, he grew agitated when talking about his future.  He spoke of getting a masters degree in “Education” and wanting to teach someday.  And if that opportunity was somehow affected by this scandal, he said point blank, “I am not okay with that.”

But somehow my career credibility combusting is okay?

In no way is this intended to be a cheap shot, but there is no chance hell I would allow this man to teach either of my sons, an ethics class.

As his press conference continued, there was one particular sound bite that caught my attention and offended me so deeply, I was prompted to share these facts in this fashion.

“We’ve all been in locker rooms where inappropriate things are said, that are over the top and sound highly inappropriate to the rest of the world,” he said. “But I’ve been in some locker rooms through high school, college and the league, it sounds crazy, but players for the most part just laugh it off and, ‘Hey, that guy’s just being crazy.’ The tape itself, it wasn’t evidence of anything, other than a coach saying some inappropriate things.”  

-Scott Fujita, Cleveland Browns Linebacker, NFL Executive Committee Member.

When he said that the tape wasn’t evidence of anything, I that felt like he stuck his football helmet up my ass and through my ribcage.  It hurt that much.  If this  was true, then why did we spend so much time and energy on this issue?  Why did it resonate so strongly with our culture, including those who don’t cheer for the home team on Sunday’s?

This was the first time he had spoken on-camera since the Bounty Gate scandal broke.  It was two and a half months since he and his wife were crying in bed and lamenting the fact that he had been “semi-complicit” in a football culture that “desensitized” him to the suffering of another.

I didn’t write a book like you suggested Scott, but rest assured, this was certainly the hardest chapter of anything I have ever had to write in my life.

I still consider you a man of convictions who wants to impact our culture and inspire social chance.  My hope is that you will search deep and embrace your core nature.  I still love you like a brother and hope that one day you will be able to say those words to me as you have on several occasions.  I have cleansed myself with the truth and am happy to forgive.  If you are the man I think you are, one day in the future you might call me and tell me you forgive me for doing the one thing I have said I would do, ever since you met me.

Be honest.

Bill Livingston of the Cleveland Plain Dealer was skeptical and in a column he wrote about Scott Fujita’s press conference.  He wondered if this man who was a staunch advocate for player health and safety might be wearing both a public and a private face?

“Perhaps he wasn’t in the room,” Livingston wrote when referencing Gregg Williams’ speeches from the 2009 season when Scott Fujita was a team leader on a Saints defense that delivered “remember me” hits at the behest of his defensive coordinator.

I can’t say for certain if Scott Fujita was in those meetings or not.  But I had a camera locked on him during the entire speech on January 13th, 2012.  He most certainly was in that room in San Francisco the night Gregg Williams asked his charges to go upside the head of a player with a concussion history, knowing full well that head trauma can lead to CTE.  Knowing that head trauma can lead to early on set dementia.  And intimately understanding by looking at the man a sitting a foot in front of him, that head trauma can most definitely lead to ALS.   This is not to say that Steve Gleason’s ALS was caused by football.

However, ALS is several times more likely in NFL players than it is for the rest of us regular folks, walking down the street not tackling anybody.

Scott’s heart was clearly conflicted that night as he sat behind his former teammate, Steve Gleason.  Steve was sitting still in a wheelchair flanked by his cane.  Scott’s face was stoic and you could see that he wasn’t proud of some of the things he had done.  He took no pleasure in anything that was being said and exhibited not an ounce of nostalgia as he stared straight ahead, clearly in a trance-like state.

But suddenly, both Steve Gleason and Scott Fujita had grins on their faces as envelopes were being passed out by Gregg Willams and the players all started chanting, “Give it back!  Give it back!”

Once again, it’s a feeling we will never know and most of us could never relate to.  But given everything we know about head trauma and the severe damage to many who play this game, I couldn’t help but feel disconnected from this scene.   Perhaps because I was shooting two cameras and not fully dialed in.  Still, I couldn’t embrace or feel even the slightest bit of levity.  Because I know the science–having spoken to the doctors and the specialists–I know the damage they are dong to their brains.

A few weeks ago I sat with a woman who was feeding her husband and wiping his chin.  She is the wife of a former NFL player who was diagnosed with dementia a decade ago.  The last time I saw them was a year and a half ago on New Years Eve.  This man was 55 pounds heavier, back then when I asked her, “When was the last time you kissed your husband on New Years and he knew who you were?”

“Six years.”

She asked me to come interview her again because the audio of Gregg Williams speech was haunting her.  She kept repeating, “Kill the head, the body will die.”

Today, this former more than sturdy NFL lineman is 6’5 and weighs just over 140lbs.  She sweet lady specifically asked me to travel across the country because she wanted me pass a message along to Gregg Williams and to anyone following this story.  Her husband has no idea who she is.  She thinks he has a month or two left.  He was diagnosed a decade ago.

“When you kill the head, the body doesn’t die.”

© Copyright 2012 Sean Pamphilon

How do you turn something so toxic into something positive?  How are Media Wars quelled?  With something funny or amazing.

***When Eminem was under fire for ripping on “Faggots” and Elton John ripped him.  How did they solve it?  They solved it with performing together at the Grammy’s and tearing that shit up.

COMPLETE SHOCK to people…

***When Billy Martin managed the Yankees in “The Bronx Zoo” and kept getting fired by the Yankees George Steinbrenner, they appeared together in a Miller Lite commercial yapping at each other punctuated with:

(GEORGE)  ”Billy, you’re fired!”

(BILLY) “Not again!”

***THE BEST THING WE CAN DO, since neither of us can sing is bring the funny…

****If we are going to bury the hatchet in a funny way, we have to do it immediately because later on it will feel like damage control like we’re trying to sell a film.  If we do it now, it shows we’re not hating on each other, personally, we just have a differing point of view on an important issue…

SKIT

Mike McReady in the background playing guitar.

***Sean and Steve reading comments from the internet*** (WAR OF WORDS)

**** SHOT FROM BEHIND/neck up****toward screen****or both of us on iPads or iPhones

***At the beginning we’re not looking at each other****

(STEVE)  (turns toward Sean) “You look pretty beat up, Fly.”

 

(SEAN)  ”Yeah, man, I had a pretty tough week…” (in make-up with black eye and cuts)

 

(STEVE)  ”Maybe you should sack up and take the pain?”

 

(SEAN)  ”Maybe you should forgive and forget?”

 

(STEVE) “You think your week was worse than mine?”

 

(SEAN)  ”A lotta people say I stabbed a dying man in the back, bro.”

 

(STEVE)  ”My back itches, can you get that for me?”

 

***Sean reaches back and looks at a fake knife in there through a piece of paper with a Fleur de lis on it… (PULLS IT OUT) ***from a reverse angle…

 

****Now begins eye contact****

 

(SEAN)  ”You okay?”

 

(STEVE)  ”I’m a pretty quick healer, Fly”

 

(SEAN)  ”Let’s hug it out”  …Sean leaning in to Steve…

 

(STEVE)  ”Not that quick”

 

(SEAN)  ”You know I heard in some movie when I was a kid that love is never having to say you’re sorry.  But I’m sorry I hurt your feelings, pal.”

 

(STEVE)   “Stop being so girly, dude.” (makes face and turns away)

 

(MIKE McReady)  ”I’ve been in bands for a quarter century and and fact is, there’s always drama or issues.  They key is to tap into the love and the respect will follow.  And if the connection is right, you come back stronger than ever.

 

Support Team Gleason

 

NO WHITE FLAGS

 

(STEVE)  ”I give you permission to release this.”

 

(On camera pitch at the end)***DREW BREES***

***Wherever Drew is, we can get a camera and a teleprompter for a couple hours, he could knock this out from several angles…

 

In the past 15 months Steve found out he’s got ALS.

 

He’s gone on an epic 15,000 mile trip with a pregnant wife, Michel

 

He led the Who Dat chant in in front of a sold out crowd, I had a great view of that one.

 

He’s got a Super Bowl ring

 

He’s had his first child,

 

He had a festival in his honor

 

He jumped out of an airplane

 

And he went to the SuperBowl…I kinda missed that one…

 

And the guy everyone thinks sold him out for cash, actually borrowed money so he could sleep in vans and do whatever was necessary, to show up and document the epic love story of Steve and Michel Gleason…

 

With all this controversy going on, you can’t lose sight of the facts.

 

This has been one hell of a ride and if you support, you will never forget it.

 

I’m Drew Brees.  I support Team Gleason.  I support great filmmaking.

 

And so should you…NO WHITE FLAGS

 

*****If we shoot this tomorrow afternoon before they go to Radiohead tomorrow night we are golden…I leave for NY on Tuesday and am most likely unavailable after 9am…so it’s either EARLY Tuesday or tomorrow…

© Copyright 2012 Sean Pamphilon

Many said I was cold-blooded for betraying a dying man for cold hard cash

The reality is, I honored a living man and his family for a year, while sacrificing valuable time with my own.

My youngest son is two and a half years-old now, but was barely one, then and for the year I shot Steve’s film, I would have to regain his infant trust each time I got home from extended trips to New Orleans.  I was tunnel-vision focused and strained my closest relationships and ignored my long-time friends.  When I took on this project with Steve, it became the third documentary I was shooting, simultaneously, all with borrowed personal funds from my fiancee. The sacrifice was difficult, but when I traveled to NOLA, I felt like I was coming home to a family, even as I was neglecting my own.  After I wrote a poem about Steve, The Soulful Steve G, I was literally open-arm-welcomed into the Varisco clan (his wife Michel’s family).  The matriarch, my personal favorite, “Jilly V,” told me, “you are family.”   I have never met a woman more inviting and genuinely sweet as this lady.  I miss her welcoming energy tremendously.

I was given nicknames by the guys, “Sonny,”  “Seanny P.”  I was kissed on the lips by Jilly V when I arrived and hugged with powerful affection by friends and family every time I left.  I never had to rent a hotel room or a car.  Most of the time I was there, I was not shooting my camera.  Much of it was spent with Steve, who I grew to love and protect like a younger brother.  I annoyed him on many occasions because I failed to give him his personal space for fear he would fall, as he had done several times.

I never let Steve-O fall and caught him a few times, as well. Catching Steve Gleason

But when push came to shove with this Gregg Williams speech, I pleaded with Steve and Michel Gleason to allow me to do what I felt to be the right thing weeks before this audio became public.  I did not breach our production agreement and I did nothing illegal, even though Steve texted me shortly before this story came out and claimed, I had done so.  I DID NOT NEED HIS PERMISSION, but sought his blessing repeatedly, in order to preserve our relationship.  I drastically overestimated how important preserving our bond was to him.  Any lawyer can verify the veracity of my legal standing and I have precise documentation of my motivations and actions.  These facts were accurately reported by Yahoosports!, when Mike Silver wrote about the contracts contents on April 7th, 2 days after the audio’s release and practically no one picked up the story.  It had zero traction with the public.  Meanwhile, Steve’s carefully crafted statement had been disseminated over 1,600 times, including internationally.  The salacious narrative had already been established and grew into a tidal wave of hate crashing down on me.

And I truly despise the media for it.The reality is that I was willing to give up finishing a film project with Steve Gleason that could have sent my career through the stratosphere, knowing full well I would be scrutinized and vilified for following my internal compass.  The reality is that Pearl Jam (my favorite band for 20 years) was likely going to be creating music for and letting us license some their library.  The reality is nearly three weeks before the audio came out, I told Steve to replace me with someone who could post-produce the film and make it look like I got fired.  I would accept no awards, do no press, take no bows.  Just don’t kill me in public for my decision.  In the moment where I was willing to give all that up to do what I considered to be the right thing, Michel Gleason called me an “opportunist” and a “liar.”  I truly loved her and respected her position as a scared wife, looking to vigorously protect her husbands interests.  But in that moment–with people who consistently would profess their love for me and my efforts–I got a clear wake-up call and reality-check about my true standing in their lives.  I wasn’t family.  I wasn’t even an adopted distant cousin.  I was providing a service for them.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  Did I sign up under these conditions to be someone’s employee?

Hell no!

I borrowed money for a year to build a video library for their son and make a movie, which was to be a love story about two people facing circumstances (ALS) which no one should have to endure.  Because of those circumstances–to this day–I hold no ill will toward Steve and Michel and vehemently suggest no one else should.  I cannot imagine what if feels like to dream at night that you are your whole self and wake up knowing part of you is missing and not having the facility with language to easily describe how you feel.  I can’t imagine what if feels like to be in a wheel chair in a park watching a father and son play catch, knowing you, a former two-sports star, would never do the same with your own offspring.  Actually, I can imagine those things, but they are not my reality.  They are Steve Gleason’s.

I have true compassion and feel a deep sorrow for what he is enduring.

But the people around them?

Those who disparaged me publicly in the print and social media and privately in texts and e-mails?  I have a feeling of unhealthy rage toward them I have to fight with daily because it eats at me every time I am called a “scumbag” and every possible pejorative term you can imagine.  The term that offends me to the deepest part of my core?

LIAR

Steve and Michel knew my mission.

–for nearly a year before I met them–was to provide true informed consent for the people who play tackle football.  “The United States of Football”  is a cultural examination of the game, from Pee Wee to the Pro’s.  They knew I was a father gathering information because I had always wanted my son to play.  Asking the very question so many parents (NFL players among them) are addressing now.

It’s the very question that was on the front page of the USA Today last week!

When I met Steve I wanted to interview him for the USOF film project, but he balked because he didn’t want to be closely associated with his former Saints teammate, Kyle Turley, whom he considered to be too radical in his beliefs and the way he expressed them.  Kyle Turley was diagnosed as CTE symptomatic (Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy) a few years ago and is a main character in “The United States of Football.”  His condition was diagnosed by the renowned Dr. Robert Cantu and is thought to be the result of repetitive head trauma.  Kyle’s music lyrics are the very soul of the USOF film.  To date, I have never met a man with more loyalty, passion and conviction.  He is a dear friend and someone I admire greatly for the way he treats people.  And when he screws up, he owns it.  Even with his admitted and complicated flaws, Kyle is just the type of man I am forever  proud to be associated with

We end many interactions, with two words.  “We Ride!”

The perception by many is that I did this for money and fame?

The reality is for nearly 20 years I had been doing work considered “too progressive” or ahead of the curve to be consistently embraced by the mainstream television audience. Who Wants it More-The Turk

I worked or freelanced for almost every major television sports entity in the country and too many television executives thought you were too stupid to get what I was producing.  I, on the other hand have consistently held true to the belief that entertainment consumers deserved more than we were getting.  That we should be challenged to reject the accepted social norms and inspired to speak up for things we believe in.

Afraid of the Dark Mike Tyson Ricky Williams-Pure Ricky

The reality is that Mike “The Situation” and those like him, should not be an epidemic.  That he should be seen as nothing more than the aesthetically pleasing, tight pair of abs on a man desperate for the approval of his friends and the adulation of strangers.  Meanwhile, he’s laughing all the way to the bank after going to the gym, getting his tan on and picking up his laundry.  Still, I used to watch Jersey Shore as a guilty pleasure, as well.  God bless him.

But where the fuck is Howard Beale and who is mad as hell these days?

The reality is, back in the 90‘s, my work was in your face and audacious,

But I was a complete pussy on the inside.  I was irrationally scared of public exposure and a harsh polarizing spotlight I knew would follow me.  I repeatedly pushed myself to the edge of mainstream success and then would consciously screw it up and frustrate everyone in my life.  People who counted on me I would let down, repeatedly.  The agent who was speechless when I backed out of shooting my own t.v. pilot two hours before cameras were supposed to roll.

The friends who I would alternately praise, but in heated moments I would cut them to the core with their deepest insecurities.  I torched my marriage and fractured countless business and personal relationships.  Inside I was two incongruous people.  A guy who could go to work Manhattan and be counter-culture-provocative and creative, then ride the subway home to Bay Ridge Brooklyn–to a comfortably modest apartment–and be an anonymous family man.  I liked walking down the street to buy a slice of pizza without being noticed.

I just wanted to be an artist, while still being able to adequately provide for my family.

After two frustrating decades, I owned the fact you can’t have it both ways and I faced my fear and accepted the scrutiny and venom that comes with following one’s conscience.  I shot three football films in the past two years and I was about to be further in the public eye, regardless.  I didn’t need or want it to happen this way.

In the aftermath of the audio’s release,  I was approached by countless media outlets and ultimately would back out or refused to do anything on camera because I wanted the raw footage of all my interviews to be aired un-cut and put on the web.  I simply didn’t trust the media to tell my story without meeting these conditions and other’s they found to be absurd.  I wanted the interview done in NY.  I wanted other people interviewed for the story.  I agreed to three different scenario’s and backed out or alienated the people pursuing me because I was confused and overwhelmed.

I didn’t trust many of them because I used to work with and for, most of them.

Two hours after I had released the audio on April 5th, I reached out to Deadspin.com and told them that I would agree to exclusively give them my “Tru Dat” essay if they would publish it without a single revision.  I thought, “at least they aren’t full of shit and pretending to be something they’re not.”  And they’ll let me say ‘fuck’ when I feel like it.  I told them I would agree to not talk to anyone else for a month.  That fell through because I had already published it on my site and I wasn’t comfortable sharing any other new information.  I wasn’t sure what I was doing, as well, for I was running a fever of 102.5 after suffering a major stress reaction and infection in my legs.

A few months earlier, at the Super Bowl in Indianapolis, Steve Gleason told me that I listen to and trust, too few people and he listens to “too many.”  He was right on both accounts.

Kyle Turley joked and told me when I released this audio that if I had signed a confidentiality clause and just buried it, I could have gotten 7-figures” in hush money.  The fact is, I never considered the option.  Even though I am a man of modest means, who has borrowed money to tell the truth and is 6-figures in debt.  Even though I have significant back taxes to take care of and the pressure of knowing by giving up a sure thing like Gleason’s film, I could easily finish my third film in the past 6 years and still owe a lot of money.

The fact is, I knew releasing that audio was going to prohibit me from taking an incredibly marketable Steve Gleason film and solving ALL my financial issues and setting me up for a prosperous future.  Given my actual circumstances most people would consider me mentally ill for standing by actual principles.  Instead they project their own greed on me and dismiss me as “arrogant.”  My assertion that I am motivated to “do the right thing” has been scoffed at and I have been branded “self-righteous.”  I sincerely wish I would have come of age in the 1950’s and 60’s where social activism and the appreciation of an intelligent approach was valued more.

The reality is, on March 18th, I came down from high atop my soap box and looked Steve and Michel Gleason right in the eye and showed them about 30 specific minutes of edited material from “The United States of Football,”  all of which was men and their families suffering from dementia, CTE and maladies associated with head trauma.  Their wives were at their sides, feeding men who didn’t recognize them.  Women who were football widows with slowly dying husbands.  I thought the parallel would be too obvious to ignore.  One of those women is Sylvia Mackey, the woman whose husband, Hall of Fame tight end, John Mackey had died the previous July.  The same Sylvia Mackey who was personally responsible for the birth of “The 88 Plan,” which was named after John Mackey’s uniform number and helped so many families with football-related medical expenses.  The same Sylvia Mackey who suggested to NFL commissioner Roger Goodell 16 months earlier, that ALS should be addled to The Plan.  And it was!  I showed them footage of this woman who pushed for change which directly benefited them financially, with payments they were getting from the NFL.

My argument got zero traction.

It’s a statistical fact that ALS is several times more prevalent in men who played tackle football than the general population.  I asked for the Gleason’s blessing and told them our film was a “sure thing” but “The United States of Football” was “more important for our culture.”  And that the message I was trying to deliver could not be ignored, as a result of letting people hear what football truly sounds like in its most primal form.

I told them the audio would create a reality check moment.   PERIOD.

No dice.  And the chasm between us grew deeper.

The perception is I went “rogue” and was acting out of self-interest.

The reality is there were SEVERAL people consulted through this process and I was seeking their approval, even though I didn’t need it.  I did not want to be pitted against a man I loved deeply, especially in a public forum.  The fact that he has a terminal illness is something I knew would preclude any rational thought or critical analysis.  The reality is the only thing I gained by being associated with Steve was true insight into my chemical make-up.  And for that I am TRULY grateful.  During the shooting of this film, I spent so much time crying that it was unbearable.  At some point, I realized that even though the material and the circumstances were dire, my emotions were clearly outsized and way beyond extreme.  After a lifetime of vacillating between thinking I could “change the world” at 11 p.m. and literally not being able to get out of bed at 11am the following morning, I went and sought professional help.  I have been in therapy and medicated for my bi-polarity for about ten months and haven’t had a single day where I woke up depressed.  Not a single day.  I still have profound anger issues, but I am getting professional help and trying daily, to be a better person.  Sometimes I slip up and just can’t help myself.  But ultimately, I don’t feel shame for it anymore because I understand who I am now and know specifically who I want to be.

I feel like I have been released from a mental prison and am learning to gain my balance and walk without being constricted.  I still have a lot of work to do.  But I haven’t had a single suicidal thought in the past 10 months and I used to get them with a frequency I do not wish to share.  I don’t look at bottles of anti-freeze anymore and wonder how much I could drink before it affected me.  I don’t drive over bridges and wonder how many people have jumped and survived.  I don’t imagine how fast you’d die if hit by a subway train or a passing bus.

But when Junior Seau killed himself and some people called him a “coward,” or said he took the easy way out, I wanted to scream because I wondered how many times he considered it before he went through with it…

Most people have no idea what it feels like to have an emotional range that prohibits you from living a balanced, functioning life!  Or the shame one feels for treating people you love and respect, in ways you can’t fathom only a few minutes after you have done it.  Or the relationships you devastate when you aren’t strong enough to look in the mirror, own your shit and ask for help.

Except for the 13 months I abstained from marijuana during the making of “Run Ricky Run,” I have never been consistently clear headed since I was in the 7th grade.  Being able to admit that to you and more importantly, to myself is a big step.  Being able to say it publicly is liberating.  I am a walking oxymoron because on one level I care deeply about everything, but at the same time, why should I care what you think?

A few months ago my 13-year-old son summed up life.  “We’re all slowly dying,” he said, “so you might as well make the most of it, while you’re here.”

A friend asked me a few years ago what my ultimate goal is?

“I want to help change the cultural male authentic.”

What?

“I want it to be acceptable for males to be able to express their fears and affections without being ridiculed for it.  I want us to be able to say when we are scared or feeling weak.  I want us guys to be able to talk about ‘connecting’ with people, rather than ‘fucking bitches.’  I want us to be true selves and that be okay.”

After nearly 30 years of self-treating, I am a 67 days sober and about to be medicated for my attention deficit issues, so I can focus and be accountable to the talents I possess and activist spirit within my heart.  Through hard work, I am looking to make restitution on my taxes, pay back the significant personal debt I have incurred while “trying to change the world” and own my actions and ask forgiveness from the many personal and professional relationships I have damaged along the way.

But to be very clear; I will never ask Steve Gleason for forgiveness.  I honored him every time I picked up or put down my camera.

I gave to him every day of our relationship.  In the past two months I have been threatened with legal action and the only conversation Steve and I had he would say “I refuse to debate you” every time I tried to bring up the reality of the way this all went down.  I can document clearly how I tried to make this all go away behind the scenes on multiple occasions.  I do not intend to accept any compensation for my services, as it relates to the production of his film, or the library I created for his child.

As for the people around me who put in the exhaustive amounts of time, invested the money and took the chance to work on spec?  They deserve everything owed to them and we will fight Steve’s lawyers if they try to profit from our labor, sweat and intellectual property, without being fair to everyone involved.

Within hours of the audio tape being released, that love from the extended family who adopted me in New Orleans, turned to VILE hatred toward me.  I felt a genuine affection for all of them.  I miss Jilly greeting me with her hands on each side of my face and a kiss on the lips.  And I desperately miss the feeling of acceptance and the warmth I felt every time I got off the airplane at Louis Armstrong Airport and being welcomed by the beautiful people in a city, I one day hoped to call home.  That ship sunk in the Bayou.

Illness does not eliminate accountability, or provide character immunity.

Period.

 

I recently had the pleasure of meeting Pittsburgh Steelers All-Pro linebacker, James Harrison.  I posted a webisode featuring him entitled Smiling James Harrison of outtakes from my film The United States of Football.  I first interviewed James at his home near Pittsburgh, in March.  And then in May I spent a couple days with him while he was training in Arizona, for the upcoming season.  While we talked about a wide range of topics, James was doing yoga, getting acupuncture, eating all sorts of healthy foods and lifting crazy amounts of weight.  In between we talked about media, music, trust issues, family, fatherhood and hyperbaric chambers, amongst other things.  He is one of the most misrepresented people I have ever had the distinct pleasure of meeting.  We are excited to have such a thoughtful person join our USOF cast.  Welcome James.

 

Here is a link to the Johnette Howard article released today on ESPN.com.  It takes a fair hand at analyzing the situation and outlines my greater ethical struggle of releasing a tape that will benefit millions of people vs. going against the personal judgment of a man with ALS.  I feel very strongly that I made the right choice although it has put a great strain on my relationship with Steve.  Just to read a few of the hundreds of emails I received from concerned parents and those affected by concussions in football reminds me that this is a much bigger issue with widespread ramifications.

 

I saw my new friend Steve G,
who was–just months ago–so strong, stable and sturdy
accept his dear friend dave’s hand
with the uncertainty of a regal man, who is elderly…

…as they headed toward the Bayou

“Help me to the other side, ’cause I’m not sure I can make it,”
the silent communication, between these loving, long-time, buddies…

I saw my friend Steve G,
a dynamic symbol of this region’s recovery,
refusing to stand on ceremony,
a gifted man, guided by an endearing, genuine, humility
basking in the loving embrace of the Big Easy
empowered by the grace, of those who keep him company…

daily, he’s growing weaker from life’s not so random, injustice
but rejecting his fate like a fierce fighter
refusing to go down gently,
or surrender his palpable dignity…
he is sucking life’s marrow vigorously and smelling roses, daily…

I saw my friend Steve G,
sitting across the couch from me,
more adopted son, than in-law, to this beautiful Italian family
to my left, the love of his life, who makes everything right, Michel
both hands framed her barely showing, tan belly–
shining light on their growing baby…
their communication filled with boldness and brilliant subtlety
that’s on display for the world to see…
But through the smiles, hugs and good times
lay the under layer of restrained public tears
and a merciless layer of transcendent melancholy…

The haunting question filling my dear, sweet friend, Steve G?

“Will my child, not only remember, but more importantly,
will he or she, be able to truly feel, the essence of me?”

I saw my friend Steve G,
an adopted Prince, in a persevering city
who could barely glide a block without people
offering a wink and a smile, but never pity…
smiling broad and soaking it ALL–at the Jazz Fest Triathlon–in
as three locals got down to the serious business–
of speed f***ing, a sacrificial watermelon…

“Heyyyyyyyy Bob,” Steve and his unique lady love, Michel G, formerly V,  chanted to a neighbor every day as they passed, gingerly,  not caring if Bob could hear or not, the essence of New Orleans, so evident and unexplainable, unless you court it…

I saw my dear, sweet friend, Steve G,
at the airport in the car, stoic
but a few feet away from me,
struggling with life’s realities, with a stiff upper lip
he’s been able to let loose to a degree…
but I could see in his eyes what his mouth wouldn’t let free…

“I got plans for a better world and exotic places to hit and flee
I got diapers to change, advice to give and people who need me
I got a trail to blaze, bridges to build, an inherent need, to just BE
I got internal conflict to resolve and an untamed heart to keep free…”

I got…

“I gotta go,” I said reluctantly

We sat silent for a beat, before a powerful hug, as I took my leave…

“I love you,” came to him and then to me, freely…

…but the one thing I still haven’t heard from my soulful, sweet and humble friend, Steve G?

“Can someone please explain why all this crazy shit isn’t happening
to someone like you, instead of someone like ME?”

I guess that’s the difference between me and my friend, Steve G…

He has more poise and courage under fire, than you or me.

(May, 2011) (C) Sean Pamphilon

 
It is true that from the beginning Steve and his wife were opposed to releasing this audio and I felt strongly that the public had a right to hear this material and judge for themselves. To this end we agreed upon a 3rd party, a person of high character who both Steve and I trust implicitly, to mediate and advise us on the final decision.  When I received a call from this person saying to release the audio “the sooner the better” I did just that.
It was reported and widely understood that Steve and I were co-directing a film about his amazing and inspiring life.  We do have a production agreement that I have followed.
I have nothing but love and respect for Steve, Michel and his whole family.  I’m happy to say that Steve plans on living a long life, with the assistance of medical technology, and I’m sure he will with the love and support of an amazing family and an incredible city.
To those who say I did this for personal gain, I have taken no money.  I am a man of modest means and for the past year have financially gone out on limb to document Steve and Michel Gleason’s life, as well as contribute to their various ventures regarding TeamGleason.  I did this out of love and yes, I hoped it would eventually turn into and amazing film and I would have been rewarded for my efforts.  The material I shot with Steve this past year was unbelievably compelling and there was no doubt this film would’ve been HUGE.
In effect, yesterday, I gave up a sure thing, to do what myself and many other parents would consider the right thing.
I feel as strongly today as I have from the beginning that the audio speaks for itself and that the public had a right to hear it.  I appreciate all the correspondence and support from parents who understand the gravity of this issue.
I look forward to getting back to the real story.
 

On January 13th, 2012, I was in a San Francisco hotel with one of my dear friends, Steve Gleason.  He was a long-time New Orleans Saints special teams ace, (2000-2007).  He was a yoga loving, long-haired, counter-culture fan favorite, who became a New Orleans icon.  He married a local girl, made the city his off-season home, lived in modest places and mingled freely with the every man.

He became a local legend September 25th, 2006, after his punt block on the first series back, re-opening the Super Dome, after Hurricane Katrina.

As one of the locals in attendance described to me, “It was the biggest beer spill in history.”

Seriously, a man blocking a punt in a football game actually kickstarted an entire region and gave a morale boost that transcended sport.

I met Steve a year ago through a mutual friend, whom he had battled with on the football field.  I had just learned Steve had been diagnosed with ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease).

I had spent the previous year working on a film called, “The United States of Football” and spoke to Steve about being part of the documentary.  On the second day we met, in March 2011, I was hooked on the energy that is Steve Gleason and we decided to do a film about he and his wife Michel, as they “stare(d) into the eye of the tiger,” and face his diagnosis with a dignity and uncommon grace.

Steve and I are co-directing his film and also creating a video library (legacy time capsule) for his children (Michel gave birth to their first child, Rivers, in October).

Words simply cannot define they way they approach their lives.  They are beautiful people.

****

On this January 13th Saturday night before the playoff game with the San Francisco 49ers, I was filming for a few documentary projects I have been working on for the past two years.  Steve is a small part of my USOF film because two of the main people profiled (NFLPA Executive Committee members Sean Morey and Scott Fujita) fought hard for him to ensure he wouldn’t get screwed by the disability system for former NFL players.  Of which, a former player told me “you have to be paralyzed for them to give you disability.”

It’s a system so flawed that the NFL was called on the carpet in front of congress in 2009. At the time congresswoman Linda Sanchez (interviewed in the USOF) spoke of the NFL being like the tobacco industry, with absolutely no moral compass. Who is responsible for taking care of these men, she wondered.

A main character in the USOF film, Kyle Turley, was also inspired by Steve Gleason’s diagnosis.  Turley wrote a beautifully sad song, “Fortune and Pain,” which is a tribute to the many men who played tackle football and are now suffering it’s effects.  Kyle states with dejection in his voice and heart that if the league would only do right by men who were “hurt on the job,” these men would gladly sacrifice their bodies if they didn’t feel discarded and used on the back end.  If the maladies that manifest after their five-year post-retirement insurance runs out, they are screwed.  Kyle was diagnosed as CTE symptomatic (Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy), which eventually leads to a downward spiral.  CTE usually doesn’t reach it’s full bloom until a players early 40’s.

For most players, this is many years after they retire and their insurance has run out.

Recently, I interviewed Dave Pear, a former All-Pro and Super Bowl Champion, who has fought for his disability for 30 years.  He made about 600k in his six-year career and claims to have spent approximately that same amount on medical bills since he retired.  When we sat down for our interview he splayed on the counter a handful of long screws and bolts that had previously been surgically implanted in his body.

“That’s the reality of football for me,” Dave Pear said as he stood for half of our interview because the pain was too much from the chairs we sat in.

***

On this January 13th night, before this playoff game against the 49ers, as per usual, Steve and I had access to all things Saints.  Drew Brees showed up outside the team hotel before dinner, greeted Steve with a hug, glanced at me and said, “Hey Sean.”

The best part about following this team all year is that I wasn’t looked at as one of them, the media.  Familiarity and standing next to Steve Gleason, afforded me a level of trust.

Less than 36 hours before kickoff, I had decided to go back home to the Bay Area where I grew up and sit two feet behind the bench, on the sideline of an NFL playoff game.  I had been on the sidelines working for approximately 15 games over the years (many at Candlestick Park), so I knew how to “act like I’ve been there before.”  Still, it was an unbelievably beautiful day.  T-shirt weather in January!

I would have been just as happy watching the game in HD on my couch, but I was stoked to be with Steve watching a game and talking a little football.  I’d speculate about a play and he would point out things I never considered, before they would happen.  I used to cut hi-lites at ESPN, but Steve understands the subtle detail and nuance of football as if it were a language in which he is fluent.  I’ve been a religious NFL fan for 35 years, but when players say ‘you don’t know unless you played,’ you should know they are telling the truth on many levels.  We don’t have their football brains and we never felt their football aches and pains.

On this January 13th night I would get an education I was shocked by and truly wanted no part of.  It has forever changed the way I will watch football.  But the fact is, I will still watch, each and every Sunday, Monday and now Thursday because I am committed to it in a way that has outlasted any of my personal relationships.

I gave up gluten.  I gave up sugar.  I gave up caffeine.

I gave up cigarettes!

But I simply cannot give up football.

***

Earlier in the season, I was with Steve Gleason behind the bench, two yards away from Drew Brees, as he threw for four touchdowns and ran for one, against the eventual Super Bowl Champion, New York Giants.  Before that Monday Night Football game I told Steve that Drew was going to throw for five Td’s and the Saints would win by 20.  As we were walking out of the SuperDome, Steve looked at me with a wide smile and shining eyes, “Only won by 18, Fly,” he remarked.  He nicknamed me “Fly” because of my ability to silently blend into the scenery when shooting our film.  I have never been considered “sneaky,” but when you document intimate moments with a camera you should think of yourself as wallpaper, not a sound system.

Within seconds of Steve’s jab, Saints rookie running back Mark Ingram took one to the house from 35 with just over a minute left and the Saints won by 25.  “Well done, Fly,” Steve-O remarked as we left the Superdome.

Being around this team was hella fun and never felt like like working.

After one of Brees’ big plays, Saints defensive coordinator Gregg Williams looked right in Steve’s and my direction and said, “I’ve been around a lot of shitty quarterbacks.  Our guy is pretty good!”  Williams said this with an emphasis that honestly made me laugh out loud.

To date, that is my favorite behind the curtain moment of my entire Saints experience.

My favorite moment overall was very public.  On September 25th, 2011, 73,000 people in their seats got to witness Steve do the “Who Dat” chant on the five-year-anniversary of his blocked punt re-opening the Super Dome.  My 13-year-old son Alix and I were but a few feet away–cameras rolling–documenting the moment, working together.  It was the most meaningful moment of my 20-year career.  I had been out of town shooting three different football documentaries and spent nearly half my time on the road, for months.  The opportunity to give my kid that once-in-a-lifetime moment was incredible.   I let him cut school and we both wore Steve’s #37 jersey’s.  As we passed by the Saints logo in the middle of the field, the hair on my arms and legs were electric.  I had three layers of goosebumps and when I looked at my wide-eyed son, his camera so steady and focused, my eyes welled up with pride.

Two days later, Drew Brees would sign a personalized ball for my boy (“Alix, Welcome to Team Gleason…Drew”).  The only other time I had a player offer any form of memorabilia to my boy was Ricky Williams giving him a helmet and game ball.  I didn’t do this because I’m a jock sniff.  I did it because I wanted my son to feel connected to the projects that kept me away so often.

***

For me, being around the Saints was intoxicating.  I had been in locker rooms and team facilities throughout my career in sports television.  But often times as a media member you were treated like an intruder vs. a welcomed guest.  Being in their locker room felt comfortable and familiar.  Walking down the hall at the team facility and chatting up Jonathan Vilma, was casually cool.  I told him I lived in Brooklyn for 13 years and was a temporary Jet fan.  I lamented the trade, but wished “JV” –as Steve called him–well.  Vilma couldn’t have been classier.  Great smile, awesome energy, legit eye contact.  “This is the type of dude you root for,” was my immediate impression after literally a conversation of less two-minutes.  I’d been around him as an observer when he was dealing with other people and he was the same guy as when my camera was fixed on him.  Solid dude.

If Jonathan Vilma ever paid a man $10,000 to hurt another man, I need a cancelled check or a verified cash payment by two witnesses.  When I studied journalism at Boston University they taught us that we needed two impeccable sources if we were going to make public anything that could ruin a man’s reputation and put a tag of  “criminal” or “thug” next to his name.

If the Jonathan Vilma I met did what whoever leaked this crap says he did, you could cut his jersey in tiny pieces, put it in a cereal bowl and feed it to me slowly, while selling it on pay-per-view.  Call it intuition, if you will.  But until I see proof that he did this, I rest secure in the fact that this man was raised correctly and doesn’t roll that way.

If I am wrong, put the milk in the bowl and throw Fireman Ed’s high school jock strap and replica 42 Jets jersey in, mix it well and give me a big spoon.

If I am right, spread that jersey around and give it to every media member who smeared his name without a shred of proof (beyond leaked information from 280 Park Avenue).  For whatever reason, if people are famous or make money in this country, we revel in their failure and assume the worst of their character.  Somehow it makes us feel better.  We celebrate and promote the stupid and vilify those most willing to piss on the paradigm.

And the standards of journalism I was taught, makes me feel twice my middle age, from another world, in a distant time.

***

On this January 13th,–as we had done earlier in the season,–I met up with Steve Gleason at the Saints hotel the night before the game.  Once again, I had exclusive access to some of the most compelling material I have been privileged to shoot.  A true expansive look behind the curtain.  The main meeting of the evening was led by the incomparable Joe Vitt.  Vitt is the assistant head coach and the linebackers coach.  In addition, he is the most fired up and tunnel vision focused motherfucker I have ever met in football.  He swears like a sailor, so I’m sure this description would make him smile.  Each time I saw him at these games or meetings, he took special time to come over and connect with Steve, but also with every member of Steve’s crew–Fly’s included.

Joe Vitt is an old-school football lifer and unbelievably charismatic.  But when Steve Gleason would show up, Joe sincerely paused and put football on the back burner.  He is an unrivaled storyteller, a genuine man and you would love him as an honored guest at your dinner table.

In the interest of full disclosure on the night of September 24th when Joe Vitt gave his speech he asked that the camera’s be turned off.  I got the first two off within ten seconds.  And the third, which was on top of his projector, I nervously had to reach around him to it turn off.

Gregg Williams never asked for such courtesy.

I’ve been shooting three documentaries over the past two years and any time a subject asked me to turn my camera off, it was off before they finished their next sentence.  That’s the way I roll.

Earlier in the season, Vitt introduced Steve before an inspirational speech Gleason gave to the team, which no doubt, forever impacted anyone who was tuned in and paying attention.  The next day, the Saints came from 11 down in the fourth quarter–against the Houston Texans–and won on the 5th years anniversary of the Superdome re-opening after Hurricane Katrina.

The night after the Texans game, Saints general manager Mickey Loomis and coach Sean Payton presented Steve Gleason with a Super Bowl ring for the 2009 team, even though he played his last down of football in 2007.  Another Saints icon, running back Deuce McCallister was afforded the same honor.

Deuce and Gleason; two of the guys who helped shape the foundation, but didn’t get to taste the champagne.

On this trip, Steve-O and I stayed up with a group of his friends into the wee hours.   We all laughed so hard our ribs hurt.  It was a great visit.  We told stories into the evening, talked about the next days game and made predictions about the outcome.

Mine wouldn’t be so on the mark this time.

***

Playing it cool, aside, I did look forward to this game because you can hear a football game on television, but you can’t really feel football through your plasma screen–even with the microphones on the field or inside players shoulder pads.  And when I went to Saints games with Steve, I could feel the crowd and palpable energy and flavor of the SuperDome.  But this game was at Candlestick Park.

In the early 90’s I was on the sideline for a 49er game and Cowboys wide receiver Alvin Harper caught a 20 yard out pass pattern, near the sideline.  As he caught the ball he got jacked by a 49er defensive back.  I could hear the pads collide like two collapsing bumpers in a high speed car wreck.  I could feel the vibration of the ground, as they careened out of bounds, landing just a few feet away.  I could hear their grunting and the release of air from Harper’s body.  I could hear the exultation of the defender.

In that moment I could feel the way football really sounds and I loved it.

I couldn’t give care less if Harper got hurt.  I was in my mid-20‘s and was entertained.

It was also my first season in my fantasy football league.  Ten years later, I still hadn’t won a championship.  By this time, I would be rooting for players to get knocked out of games early, if the team I was playing that day was starting said player.  I didn’t want them to blow out their knees or anything serious.  But a forearm and getting knocked unconscious?  Didn’t bother me at all because they would play the next week against someone else’s fantasy team.  Or they would go on injured reserve and I figured they’d get paid anyway.  I had no idea about the significance of head trauma and neither did the players.  I’m not saying they wouldn’t have played anyway.  But if a single person understood the gravity of this issue and didn’t share it, they should be thrown in jail.

Like most football fans I didn’t care if these guys got hurt because “they make all that money and they know what they got themselves into.”

I didn’t know that the NFL has split contracts and many players lose a lot of their salary if they don’t make it through the season.  Still, as a 25 year-old New Yorker, struggling to pay my rent, I honestly wouldn’t have cared.  I just didn’t know any better.

***

But 17 years later, on this disturbing January 13th night I couldn’t help but care.

Was it because I am 42 and no longer got hard-ons watching gladiators landing “kill shots?”

Was it because I don’t go to games with a painted face and scream obscenities at underperforming players in front of young children?  Or because I haven’t paid-for-autographed Fathead’s of my favorite ballers to stick on the wall in my home office?

Or was it because I have friends I love dearly who played the game and got their “bell rung” so many times that I fear they won’t remember their children’s faces by the time their kids have kids?

Yep, I’m pretty sure the last one was the reason I wasn’t smiling.

You see, I was sitting next to Steve Gleason in the back of the room as Gregg Williams screamed ‘fuck’ and ‘fuckin’ countless times when instructing his men to hurt other men.  Williams wasn’t considering the fact that many of those men have children and all of those men are somebody’s son.

“We make no apologies for the way we play the game,” Williams said in a tone which suggested that he actually had the balls to put on a uniform and do the very things he was ordering his players to do, much less be on the receiving end of the blows he was ordering up.

I don’t have those balls.

You don’t have those balls.

And Gregg Williams most definitely does not have those balls.

It’s a cowards play to send someone off to do your malicious bidding.  I’m sure many of his players would have told him this if they weren’t scared to lose their jobs or look like bitches in front of their teammates.  Or if they weren’t 25 and couldn’t possibly have a fully developed perspective on life.

“This is a production business,” Williams said emphatically when he began his speech.  He repeated that mantra again and again, during the balance of his impassioned, profanity laced diatribe.

Nearly two months before this story broke, I was sitting in a room with a full-frontal picture of the way “Bounty-Gate” really looked and sounded.  Reading about it in the paper or hearing talking heads drone on about it–incessantly for the past several weeks–gives you no idea of the way it really goes down.

And it’s comical that so many mainstream journalists kept asking players if it’s like this on their teams?

Seriously?

Who’s going to honestly answer a dumb fucking question like that?

This is the same media who will tell you James Harrison is the second coming of Darth Vader, when this is the way he’s been taught the game his whole life.  Instead the talking heads sit around blowing smoke, insisting they know what’s in Harrison’s head when he’s playing the game of football.  Look at the replays of Harrison’s three fine-able hits against Cleveland Browns players, closely.

Watch the Colt McCoy hit and understand that Harrison could have put him six feet under if he put all his 6 feet 270 pounds into McCoy.  Fact is, when a professional football player wants to hurt you and he has a clean shot, he runs right through your ass…check the tape.  Harrison didn’t run through anyone on the hits he was fined for.

I asked McCoy’s teammate Scott Fujita, himself a linebacker, if Harrison’s hit on McCoy was illegal or “dirty.”

“No and No.  Bang-bang play.  Colt became a ball carrier and threw it at the last minute.”

After Harrison’s “Black Sunday” hits when he said he considered retiring, Fujita pointed out that the league was selling pictures of the hits on their website.  Did they kick any of that back to James to help pay for the fine?

That would be a sarcastic, rhetorical question on my part.  Hell no, they didn’t.

The second question we should consider is simple.  Why is it that offensive players (especially running backs) dip their heads all the time without financial consequence?  Isn’t a defender supposed to match that pad level or gain leverage and go lower?  If they don’t, they take a helmet to the balls or sternum, get lit up and have their peers laugh their asses off a few days later in the film session.

In the era of the NFL’s attention to health and safety, has any offensive player been publicly shamed or league indicted and fined for initiating contact with the crown of his helmet?

Why is that?  Perhaps because the media fosters a world of ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys‘ and we’re all too distracted or self-absorbed to do thoughtful research.

*****

Former Saints All-Pro, the outspoken Kyle Turley would liken what Gregg Williams did to dog fighting with the players being the canines.  If you were in the room, as I was, it was clear who was the puppet master as he passed out money for forced turnovers and big plays.  He did not reward anyone that night for perpetrated violence.  But he did point to beneath his chin when bringing up 49ers quarterback Alix Smith and in a chilling tone, paused and said, “First one’s on me.”  At that moment he rubbed his fingers together in a way that cannot be mistaken.

He was ordering his players to maim in as many ways possible.  Plain and simple.

He was the only one in the room willing to go into his pocket to reward it.

Anyone who blames the players for this behavior is clearly missing the point.  Just as in sexual harassment cases, it’s the person with the power, influence and–most importantly–control, who dictates the behavior.  Yes, the players could have said, ‘no’, but Americans play “follow the leader” and these men have families to feed and many dudes willing to come off the street to sacrifice their body for team and do it for less.  The fact is the majority of men who play in the NFL are paid league minimum, with non-guaranteed contracts.  How do these–mostly 20-something-year-old–men make a stand in this situation fraught with enormous peer pressure?

How does one take a stand against a coach who so clearly controls their destiny?

And did they ever consider the possibility that maybe their names were being called out in the other team’s locker room?  Perhaps their heads were on the block, as well?

On this night of January 13th, the Saints defensive coordinator’s message was delivered loud, clear and with specific meaning.

“This is a production business…This is how you get respect in this league.”

***

This defensive meeting was right after the team meeting.  I shot part of the team meeting, but it wasn’t going to be a scene in Steve’s film because he wasn’t speaking and what we filmed from earlier in the season, couldn’t possibly be topped.

On September 24th, 2011, the night before the 5th anniversary of the Dome reopening, Steve Gleason stood before the 2011 Saints–most of whom were never his teammates–and put his heart on display.

“We all have fear, right,” he told the assembled team.  There was a pause, “Right,” Steve reiterated with his lip quivering, nodding his head, looking around into as many eyes as he could.  The energy of the room shifted with the teams tacit acknowledgement that they too are men of flesh, bone and blood.  They too, are not immune to the realities of hand to hand combat.  The meaner, tougher–and sometimes dirtier they are–the more they are valued.  In this sense, football truly is counter to the best interests of our culture.

Conversely, it’s the very reason we love it.

In his San Francisco speech, Gregg Williams specifically was calling out players with concussion histories and telling the men in his employ to “attack the head.”

Again and again, Gregg Williams implored his team to, “Break their will.”

“You break their will, you break their skill.”

But then it became something else.  He started talking about 49er receiver and return man, Kyle Williams.  He specifically mentioned his concussions and to go after the guy.  FYI, this is the same 49ers player who the following week would famously fumble twice in the NFC Championship game.  In the paper, Giants players were quoted as saying they specifically went after the lithe Williams because of his concussion history.

Essentially, Gregg Williams is not entirely unique.  He’s just the one who was arrogant enough to continue when he was told to stop and eventually, he got popped for it.  In his apology statement he said, “we knew it was wrong.”

If he knew it was wrong, why did he keep telling his players not to apologize for the way he instructed them to play the game?

But on January 13th what caught my eye and ear was how open this dialog was.  The idea of purposely maiming men, targeting their heads, when information has been out there for a couple years now about the long-term affects of brain trauma.  Sadly, many of the players choose not to educate themselves about the toll the game really takes on them.  If you really know what you are doing to yourself, would you keep doing it?  There’s a difference between career suicide and the journey of slow suicide, many players embark on when they stay in this game at the highest level for too long.

The truly scary thing is that a tragic number of players keep their brains in the sand as they race down the field with the heads on a swivel.  It’s been about a decade since Dr. Bennet Omalu discovered Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy in the brain of former Steelers center and Hall of Famer, Mike Webster.  It’s been less than a year since Dave Duerson blew a hole in his chest, preserving his brain, so people in our culture would see the light.  It reminded me of the monk who protested the Vietnam War by lighting himself on fire.

Only this time, Duerson’s death is already forgotten by many.  He made the mistake of killing himself during the player lockout.  All fans could focus on–at that time–was getting the gladiators back on the field to entertain them.  Duerson made his money.  He knew the risks.

Screw him.

Actually, Dave Duerson didn’t know the true risks because no one told him.  Hence the reason why hundreds of former NFL players are currently suing the league.

Dave Duerson knew he had CTE and his brain matter confirmed it.

Anyone who plays football in the modern era has no excuse for refusing to educate themselves on this issue.

Any parent who has a young tackle football playing child with an underdeveloped brain is committing apathetic child abuse, if they do not educate themselves on this issue.

And some coaches–who send the best of the best out to slaughter–should feel deep shame when they choose greenbacks and game jerseys over the flesh of a man who has a family to go home to.

What is a traumatic brain injury?  What is CTE?

Read up, son!

***

Did Gregg Williams ever consider on that January 13th night that a former player who played balls out– kicking fear’s ass on a weekly basis–was sitting, slumped in a wheelchair within earshot?  Does he know that it’s a statistical likelihood that Steve Gleason’s ALS was as a result of head trauma from crashing into other football players at high speeds, since he was in the 8th grade?  Gleason emphatically states he could have gotten ALS if he were an architect.  The odds say that’s about eight times less likely than if he played football.

Did Gregg Williams ever see the eyes of these men whose heads he was calling for after they got their lights blown out as their limp bodies hit the turf?

Has he seen wives nurse their broken husbands, who hid their injuries as a badge of honor and for their career survival?

I have held their hands and rubbed their backs as they cried, talking about losing their “best friend.”

Has Gregg Williams seen the damage done to men who can’t remember the names of faces of those who love them?  The one’s whose life and savings are sapped up in medical bills because the league fights tooth and nail to deny disability claims?

Could he not see Steve Gleason that night because Steve-O was in the back of the room?

Or did he not see the man in the wheelchair because he simply wasn’t looking?

***

In the interest of full disclosure:  If this story hadn’t broken and been made public, I would not have shared this it.  I would not have compromised my personal relationships and risked damaging Steve Gleason’s relationship with the Saints.  I would have crafted these words and sentiments for another forum, perhaps years down the road.

If it weren’t for the fact I feel deeply that parents of children playing football MUST pay attention to the influence of men who will sacrifice their kids for W’s, I would not have written this.

If it weren’t for the fact that a man of  conviction and conscience, Scott Fujita has been publicly attached to this scandal on the day he brought his newborn daughter home from the hospital, I would not have written these truths.  FYI, his name was leaked directly from the NFL offices to three HUGE sports journalists, one of which broke the “scoop.”

I’m not calling them out by name because nobody pays me to be an asshole.

To date, there has been no evidence Scott Fujita ever paid a man money to hurt another man.  The fact that he’s willing to admit paying for turnovers (fumbles, int’s, etc.) is cause for possible suspension.  Seriously?  If you met him, you would know he wouldn’t sacrifice his well-earned reputation of social activism and authentic charity work, while reveling in the destruction of another human being.

But every time his children google him, this stain (regardless of whether it is retracted) will follow him and he will have to explain that daddy really isn’t one of the bad guys.

In releasing this material, I have severely strained my relations with Michel and Steve Gleason, whom I sincerely love.  They had no part in this material becoming public and I may have to find another producer to finish our film project.  This was a film which made me have to learn to shoot my camera while crying.  This is a film that guitarist Mike McCready from my favorite band, Pearl Jam has committed to doing the music for.  No joke.  It’s that deep.  It’s that powerful.  It’s that big of an opportunity potentially lost.

Some will call me releasing this audio for fame or money grab.  True haters will call it exploitation.

People of character and conscience call it was it is; tru.

..and so it goes in The United States of Football.

Post-script notes:

Sean Payton and Mickey Loomis have admitted to being complicit simply because they did not put a stop to it.  There’s no denying it happened on their watch while they were in the building.  But on January 13th–in a room far down the hall–they were nowhere to be seen.  And I’ve had two player sources directly tell me that Gregg Williams would often boast of having a “fuck you clause,” in his contract.  This gave him total control of the defensive side of the ball.  I guess the analogy would be like when Buddy Ryan was the defensive head coach of the Chicago Bears.

I haven’t seen this contract, but if Williams wants to refute his players claims, then he should make his contract public.  After all, we all know how much money the players make because the media cannot help but remind you.

And man-crush aside, #9 was nowhere in sight when all this went down.  But on January 14th, I expected him to take me one step closer to Disneyland.

The Saints failed to break the 49ers will and in the waning moments, Karma in the form of Vernon Davis, kicked the shit out of  Gregg Williams’ game plan.  His will was knocked out by the 49ers skill.

Williams insisted in that meeting, “We don’t apologize for the way we play football.”

But then it became public and that’s exactly what he did.  And he threw his defense and the Saints franchise under the bus, in order to break his fall.

****

In the interest of full disclosure:
The only reason why I beeped out the audio for the names of the Saints players is because they were getting paid for performance bonuses, $200 for turnovers was the biggest haul I heard.  This is a LONG-held league wide practice and in the mind of any reasonable person without an ax to grind, in no way should it be mentioned in the same sentence as a “Bounty.”

PERIOD.  End of Story.

-Sean Pamphilon
April 4th, 2012

Run Ricky Run was part of ESPN’s 30 for 30 documentary series which won a Peabody and an IDA award.  It was the only film in the series which appeared in real time.  The United States of Football has followed the same format.

 

 

I am neither the most mobile, nor the strongest guy in the world, but in split-second moments that require agility and power, I can hurdle like Edwin Moses and have a home run trot like Reggie Jackson.

When my 13-year-old son was 13 months-old, we were at some friends house for a children’s birthday party. I saw him at the top of a staircase out of the corner of my eye, while I pretended to listen to the person in front of me. When I saw my sweet boy tumble, I took one step to my right, two strides forward and three Hail Mary’s as I dove stretched out into a sunk-in living room. I caught the back of my son’s head, less than six inches from the ground. I have stunned eyewitnesses who can verify this all these years later. It was THAT memorable

Everyone in the room stopped, like one of those old commercials from E.F. Hutton.

HOLY CRUD! As Tanner from the Bad News Bears would say.

I looked up in shock and said with a grin,

“I played shortstop.”

Everyone started laughing.

Later that night I cried a steady stream of tears, as I imagined the worst. I would have had to watch my kids’ skull exploding as the background music to the inane conversation I was engaged in, with a virtual stranger!

I would have never recovered…

A few months ago I experienced a similar emotional shock, as I imagined my friend Steve-O’s head hitting the pavement, before I caught him.

I met Steve Gleason in March and we connected instantly. We bonded over our appreciation of intelligent discourse, the commonality of our curious minds and our mutual love for the charismatic, Kyle Turley, Gleason’s teammate in New Orleans. I have been documenting both of their lives for film projects.

I have been thinking about Steve Gleason since January when a mutual associate read me a haunting e-mail. In the e-mail the Steve–who blocked a historic punt on the first series back in the SuperDome, post Hurricane Katrina–revealed that although he might not survive, he was looking to fight his recent ALS diagnosis like a Heavyweight Champion.

But on that day he was just devastated.

Two months later–in our first interview–he told me when his diagnosis was confirmed, he lay on top of his wife Michel that night, as she hugged him and they both sobbed themselves to sleep.

Since the day after we met in March, I have been shooting a documentary called “The Steve Gleason Project.” It is a film about a man who is making a 400 hour-plus video library for his unborn child, who will never know him in this form. And it’s possible, his child may not remember him in human form. That depends on how long Steve wants to fight and the satisfaction a human being can experience with a brain locked in a body that not longer will cooperate and cannot move.

So the soon-to-be father does journals, gives advice on an array of topics and talks a lot about his life’s path and personal history. He is giving his children a reference point to his life experience, so they intimately understand the man dispensing the advice.

Steve Gleason was a football player, but he is part of the fabric of New Orleans.

In a recent poll of Saints fans, the two most memorable moments in the franchise’s history were their Super Bowl win…

…and the punt block by Steve Gleason that let a community exhale and party again.

But this man who will never be forgotten, can only remember what it feels like to run.

Last month–seven years after blocking that punt–I asked Steve-O what it feels like to walk and he said thoughtfully, without emotion, “Imagine you have a sleeping bag around your entire body.”

In his January e-mail–read to me the day it was sent out–Gleason wrote about wanting to live to be 109, but he just found out he has ALS. No one with ALS has ever lived to be 109. But Steve Gleason is a man who has consistently crushed the odds. First as an undersized linebacker from Washington State, who played in the Rose Bowl. Then, after being cut by the Colts, he became an 8-year special teams standout, whose career ended, just before the Saints ascended.

But on this night we were in a gas station, just outside of Spokane, Washington. Steve, his unbelievably compatible wife, Michel and his camera skeptical cousin, Brendan, were all in Gleason’s van, nicknamed, “The Iron Horse.” Only the free-spirited Steve Gleason would get this diagnosis and nickname his recently purchased home on wheels, after Lou Gehrig, who died from the same disease, at 39 years-old.

Steve Gleason is 34 years-old and the disease often progresses faster in the young.

I had come on this epic trek toward Alaska to shoot exteriors of Team Gleason driving, for the documentary. I had also come to spend some time with my friends and help out, any way I could. Six weeks earlier I drove a 12-hour stretch, as we left the Bay Area and headed toward the Pacific Northwest. By this time I had been embraced by this amazing New Orleans Italian family (The Varisco’s) and MIchel’s mom, Jill kisses me on the lips when she sees me, with her palms on each of my cheeks. And from this sweet love-emitting lady I’ve met three times, it doesn’t feel weird at all.

Not at all.

I’ve seen up-close, Steve and his father, Mike, go toe to toe about the true spirit of Jesus. And even though I don’t have Mike Gleason’s religious fervor, I am deeply moved by a man who so ardently believes his prayers–in conjunction with his son’s faith–can heal a disease with no known medical cure.

What I’ve seen has often left me in stunned silence, sitting behind a camera like a conflicted voyeur. I’ve been nicknamed, “The Fly,” for being in heavy situations and shooting while blending into the scenery. For the last few hours of our day long-drive toward Washington, Steve and Michel were in bed and held each other in the back of The Horse, as we sped through Portland in the middle of the night.

There was nothing but full-moon, open-road silence.

I wasn’t even working and it was the most poignant moment of my career.

But six weeks later, on this mid-July night we were gassing up and headed toward Canada, on the way to Alaska. I was in my car–on the phone with my baby momma, Tenny–when I looked in the rearview mirror and saw Steve Gleason standing up on the grill. He was cleaning the windshield of The Iron Horse! This vehicle, sleeps two comfortably, three adequately and four, barely. It’s a silver coated, bad motherf***er with big thick tires and a lift kit.

So here’s Steve-O–a day after telling me he has reservations about the six week odyssey with a seven months pregnant wife–and he’s up on a front-bumper–about three feet off the ground?

I got off the phone and out of my car and headed toward The Horse, without alarm. Still, I closed the 50-foot gap in short order. I stood behind him, just to the right. We overlapped slightly, like concentric circles. I noticed that one of his legs began to shake, but he wasn’t going to quit, as he washed and wiped down the entire front window with a determined look on his face.

Michel walked by and slapped him on the butt, “I haven’t seen you do stuff like this lately,” she beamed, “Good job, Steve-O.”

An esteemed doctor had recently speculated he might have another 18 months on his feet and that he shouldn’t be a wallflower. In essence, he should rage against the dying of the light. So here was Steve Gleason, with his leg shaking involuntarily, on the top of the grill and he reaches to finish washing the window…

…and he SLIPS.

Oh No!

As he started to fall he grabbed the grill with his hands, which started to somehow propel his legs down and under, toward the undercarriage of The Horse. If he continued, when his ribs and face hit the front of the grill, he would have released his hands and landed on the back of his skull.

When athletes talk about being “in the zone,” I tune out because it sounds cliche and ordinary. But when they talk about the specifics of how they visualize performance, I’ve always found that intriguing. Standing behind Steve-O, a couple minutes earlier, I imagined what I would do, if he fell. When his first leg slipped, I moved slightly to my left, to get directly behind him. Simultaneously, I threw my arms down and forward, almost like when a male cheerleader catches a female coming off the pyramid, except I was lurching forward and curling my back down at the same time. It was like a martial art, I had no idea I possessed. My arms slung right under his armpits and fit snugly just past the forearm. And with the soundtrack of the Bionic Man, Steve Austin, playing in my head, I held without giving an inch–just locked in.

He never hit the ground.

“Thanks Fly.” Steve-O said matter-of-factly as he tilted his head up and smiled at me like a sweet little kid, who did something he probably shouldn’t have.

In that moment I felt like the prodigal son of Edwin Moses and Reggie Jackson.

(July 2011) (c) Sean Pamphilon