By Kevin Heitz
It has been nearly eight years since O.J. Brigance won a Super Bowl title as a member of the Baltimore Ravens. It has been more than 12 years since he won a Grey Cup title as a member of the Baltimore Stallions. And it has been about 16 months since he started the battle of a lifetime — one that he plans to win like so many others before. This isn’t just the battle of a lifetime, it’s Brigance’s against-the-odds battle to stay alive.
In spring of 2006, Brigance, the Ravens’ director of player development, was playing a game of racquetball with other members of the organization. He had taken up the game not long before and, as with all things in his life, Brigance went all-out with an unrivaled competitive drive to be the best.
But on this day, Brigance, who prided himself on outworking current players in the weight room, didn’t seem to have his regular strength in his shot. His arm simply felt weak. As the weakness spread to his shoulder, Brigance shrugged it off as a leftover football injury, likely a torn rotator cuff.
His muscles had every right to feel weak and sore. After all, Brigance, now 38, had put his body — a smallish one many said was not built for football — through years of the brutal gridiron gauntlet chasing his NFL dream. Five years as a star defender in the Canadian Football League and seven years in the NFL would push even the strongest muscles to the brink.
However, the weakness continued and was joined by muscle twitches and a general lack of dexterity, symptoms that didn’t jibe with Brigance’s theory that it was just another football injury.
Doctors dug deeper into the mystery and informed Brigance that amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) could be to blame. Not knowing much about the disease other than it was named after Lou Gehrig, the New York Yankees legend who brought international attention to ALS after his diagnosis and swift demise, Brigance got online to do some digging of his own.
As he scrolled through a list of ALS symptoms and mentally checked all those that applied to him, it became clear. “It was like, OK, check, check, check. If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, it must be a duck,” said Brigance, who began to realize that he was one of the 30,000 people in the United States affected by ALS.
“So by the time it was officially diagnosed, I had some idea of what was going on. … Even though I knew about the disease and what it could do, it’s been interesting to see it unfold, literally, as far as things that I can and can’t do. Always believing each and every day it will reverse itself and go back.”
Most people wouldn’t use the word “interesting” to describe an ALS diagnosis; depressing and overwhelming seem more accurate. But O.J. Brigance is not like most people. His grace, class and patented smile have shown themselves over and over in his ongoing battle for life.
According to the ALS Association, ALS is a “neurodegenerative disease that usually attacks both upper and lower motor neurons and causes degeneration throughout the brain and spinal cord.” In layman’s terms, ALS takes perfectly healthy bodies and methodically takes away strength, dexterity and muscle control while the brain remains strong, leaving those afflicted as prisoners in their own failing bodies. Half of ALS patients die within three years of diagnosis.
But Brigance has never been one to back down from a seemingly unbeatable challenge. After graduating from Rice University, he wanted to take his skills to the NFL — but was shot down by numerous doubters who said a 6-foot guy could never play linebacker at the sport’s highest level. None of those opinions swayed Brigance, who knows that hard work and believing in yourself can make the impossible possible.
“Nothing is by accident,” he said. “I’ve seen the impossible. Having a back surgery and they said you’re probably done, to be able to heal and come back for the regular season by God’s grace. I’ve constantly seen the impossibilities overcome.
“And so how apropos that [ALS] would come on, something that man says is impossible. But God says all things are possible. So I’m believing that. I’m believing that regardless of what goes on, I will have a victory.” While it sounds similar to the thousands of sports clichés uttered in locker rooms for decades, with Brigance it’s different. He is not talking about a game; he’s talking about a life and death battle. And he’s not just talking smack — he truly believes he will beat the disease.
As a young man, Brigance felt like he could take on the world by himself and still come out ahead. Now that the world has dealt him a constant struggle to accomplish the same small tasks as the day before, Brigance knows that as in football, he needs a team to help lead him to victory.
“Football is very much a team sport, and I’ve come to find that as with football, this is a team deal,” he said. “I cannot do this by myself.
“I have my role of what I can do but others, whether it’s my wife helping me at home or coming in here, or [Harry Swayne] helping me next door, people that are constantly having an impact on my life. … Whether it’s the team at Johns Hopkins, the doctor clinician, my general doctor, everyone has a role.”
Brigance’s role is to raise awareness for a disease that strikes people down regardless of age, gender or ethnicity. He and his wife Chandra have started a foundation, “Brigance Brigade,” to raise money for research and awareness initiatives, and Brigance serves as the ALS ambassador for the Robert Packard Center at Johns Hopkins University.
He believes with absolute certainty that his success on the football field was part of a bigger plan to give him the platform needed to defeat ALS. So instead of keeping his disease private, Brigance knew he had to make this a public battle — both for his life and the lives of others.
“Realizing that everything that I’ve gone through up to this point could possibly help someone else, how could I not do it?” he said. “We all have a certain responsibility. I feel that everything, from being an athlete, being a college athlete, being a professional athlete in the city of Baltimore, I’ve been given so much.
“And to think that it was all just for me and my glory would be a disservice. We’ve all been placed in positions so we could do a greater work. I see now that even though I benefited from my career as a professional athlete, all of that was to get to this point, to be able to have a platform to be able to expose others and share about ALS.”
If most people got to the point where they couldn’t type an e-mail or drive themselves to work, where they struggled to pick up a fork or button a shirt, the last thing they would think about would be their job. But against all odds, since his diagnosis, Brigance has continued to show up at the Ravens’ Owings Mills complex every day for the work he loves.
Friend and former teammate Swayne was brought in to assist Brigance, from returning phone calls to typing e-mails to simply serving as a source of inspiration. Brigance, who has inspired more people than he’ll ever know, has a saying given to him by Swayne written on a wall in his office. It reads: “A man with an outstanding attitude makes the most of it while he gets the worst of it.”
It may well be referring directly to Brigance, who continues to amaze those around him with his positive attitude in the face of such dire circumstances.
“Some would say that he’s been cursed by his disease and he, in some ways, has been blessed because it’s allowed him to reach more people in a stronger way,” Ravens director of public relations Kevin Byrne said. “He doesn’t have to be [working]. When you see the struggle he has to come into the building, to eat, to move, to answer a phone, to respond to an e-mail, it’s powerful. The message he delivers without saying words.”
On top of hiring Swayne, the Ravens have hired a driver to get Brigance to and from the Owings Mills complex. They keep a nurse on hand and continue to make adjustments to his office equipment. It’s something that was done with little thought.
“It’s not a sacrifice,” Byrne said of the many changes. “We get the reward.”
At the same time, the Ravens organization is granting Brigance his one biggest wish — helping him without feeling sorry for him.
“Part of it is just treating O.J. the way we’ve always treated him,” Ravens president Dick Cass said. “We’re not dwelling on his situation, but just dealing with him as if he were the same O.J.”
That’s easier said than done when it comes to somebody who a couple years ago dominated the weight room and now needs help to stand. As director of player development, Brigance deals directly with all Ravens players, guiding them through the challenges that come up in the NFL and in life, and his disease gives young players a firsthand look at why nothing should be taken for granted.
“When [O.J.] spoke to the team on the first night of training camp,” Byrne said, “he talked about his player program, and then he stopped and said, ‘I can tell by looking at some of your eyes that when you saw me today or yesterday, you looked at me differently because I look differently than you saw a month ago or two months ago.’ Then he told them, ‘Don’t be afraid. Don’t be afraid to be close to me, don’t be afraid to witness what you’re witnessing. I still believe I’ll be the one [to beat ALS]. If there is one, I’ll be the one.'”
Brigance has been a member of the Ravens family twice, first as a player in 2000 — when he became the only player to win a CFL and NFL championship while playing for the same city.
He won a Grey Cup as a member of the Baltimore Stallions in 1995, the last of his five seasons in the CFL. He signed with the Stallions hoping that playing in America would lead to a chance at the NFL, but when Brigance worked out for every NFL team following the 1995 season, he was rejected by all but two. Miami liked what it saw, and Brigance headed south and spent four seasons as a solid special teams player for the Dolphins. After his Super Bowl season with the Ravens, Brigance spent the last two seasons of his career in St. Louis.
After retiring, he returned to Baltimore to head the Ravens’ player development program. There may be no better fit for any position in the NFL.
“He has a tremendous effect on [young players], obviously before but more so now,” Cass said. “He has an effect on a lot of people; everyone in the organization has a lot of respect for him.”
Brigance has always been an ideal person to lead young players on the right path. His program was recognized by the NFL as the Best Overall Player Development Program in 2005 and 2006. But there’s no denying that the current hand he has been dealt is helping him reach his subjects like never before.
“If someone would’ve told me that at 38 years of age I couldn’t raise my arms, that brushing my teeth would be a workout, I never would have believed it. It ends up bringing a perspective about a lot of things,” said Brigance, who wants all his players to take full advantage of every opportunity the NFL presents and not take anything for granted.
“Enjoy each and every day,” he said. “We don’t know what tomorrow holds, but we do have control of what we can do today.”
Not many undersized NFL special teamers make an impact like O.J. Brigance. Whether on the football field or in his other life, Brigance has touched enough people to push M&T Bank Stadium to standing room only.
“In my mind it’s a mortal sin for you to feel down or feel sorry for yourself in any way if you have the chance to be with O.J.,” Byrne said about Brigance’s ability to help others put their problems in perspective. “I think all of us — no matter how long we live, or how long O.J. lives — will tell O.J. Brigance stories the rest of our lives.”
Jim Popp, general manager of the Baltimore Stallions when Brigance signed with the team in 1994, still keeps in touch with Brigance and is not at all shocked by how well his friend is dealing with the disease.
“He’s one of those special guys on and off the field,” said Popp, now the general manager of the CFL’s Montreal Alouettes. “To this day, when we’re comparing players, it’s amazing how many times O.J. Brigance’s name comes up, saying, ‘He’s an O.J. Brigance type of guy.’ Sometimes you’re describing a player on the field but other times you’re talking about a person off the field.
“He’s always been a special type of person. A lot of people wouldn’t be able to handle [ALS] the way O.J. is handling it.”
“O.J. Brigance is my all-time favorite,” said Mike Gathagan, the Magna spokesperson who worked for the Stallions in the mid-90s. “You’d be hard pressed to find a better human being. Look at what this guy has gone through. … How can anybody have a worse day than what he has every day? He has handled it in typical O.J. Brigance fashion, which is just classy.”
“Courage” is a word that is grossly overused in the world of sports. It is not courageous to nail a last-second free throw or to fight through a triple team to get a sack or to play a postseason game with a torn ACL.
“Courage” is also a word that cannot be used enough when describing O.J. Brigance — even if he doesn’t think so.
Just a few years ago, Brigance was smashing and bashing on the field, a top-notch athlete with God-given ability living a dream. Now his body has dealt him a different hand, and it’s one that he is not afraid to play.
Last year at the Ed Block Courage Awards banquet, Brigance, in his first public appearance after announcing he had ALS, was honored with the Johnny Unitas Hightops in Courage Award. In classic O.J. style, he walked up on the Martin’s West stage to receive the award and said, “ALS is just another thing. … I never asked, ‘Why me?’ Instead I asked, ‘Why not me?'”
Those sentiments could only be described as courageous by anyone who knows what ALS does to a person. But not by Brigance.
“I wonder what people see when they look at me a lot of times,” he said. “People say, ‘You’re very courageous.’ But to me, in my mind, how could I not do it? What other option is there?
“If you’ve been given bad news, you spend some time, you may moan, you may deny, you may get angry, but eventually all that is nothing. We’ve got to get back to life, we’ve got to find a way to live.”
His courage is real, and it comes from something that for Brigance is as real as anything in life — faith.
“Where does it come from? My faith in Jesus and understanding that he’s not going to give me any more than I can bear,” he said. “My faith in Jesus gives me a perspective of everything, first of all understanding that I don’t control very much. I have control over my attitude, I have control over my work ethic.
“We all deal with a certain form of adversity, and I think it’s all in accordance with our faith, as far as what we can handle, and no more will come on us than we can handle. … If I couldn’t handle it, God wouldn’t allow me to go through it.”
Issue 3.37: September 11, 2008