Dorian Boose

 

Warning: This story contains mentions of suicide and may be triggering to some readers.

Every few months, Brenda Boose receives another adoring message about her late ex-husband, former NFL player and Washington State University star Dorian Boose. They pour in from strangers, old teammates, friends, and even people who only met Dorian once. Brenda printed out a particular message she received from a young man in 2021. The note reminded her about Dorian’s generosity and the effect he had on others:

I met Dorian in the fall of 1997 when I was 16 and a junior in high school. A friend of my family was a big booster for the Cougars and he invited me to join the team for an away game at USC. Most of the players were too busy but that changed when my dad had me approach Dorian. He was incredibly friendly and took me around, introducing me to everyone. After the game, we snapped a few pictures and exchanged information.

Some point later, Dorian reached out to me and we got to chat like old buddies. I remember I had told him I loved to sing, and we even sang together on the phone. After the Rose Bowl, he sent me his practice jersey and WSU warmup suit. Though our correspondence ended as the years passed, I still remember Dorian fondly and bring up him up whenever I get the chance.

“That’s just the kind of person Dorian was,” said Brenda.

 

Coming together through faith

When Brenda first met Dorian in 1991, he was attending Walla Walla Community College in eastern Washington. Dorian and Brenda were members of the local church choir. In addition to sharing the same faith, she was drawn to his gregarious personality and kind heart.

“Dorian had a natural joy that drew everyone in,” said Brenda.

Certain talents came naturally to Dorian. He could sing very well and learned how to play piano completely by ear. Dorian was extremely athletic and at 6’6,” loved to play basketball. He picked up tackle football for the first time as a freshman at Foss High School in Tacoma, Washington. His combination of size and speed immediately turned heads and led him to Walla Walla CC and eventually to a scholarship to play defensive end for the Washington State Cougars.

Dorian and Brenda started dating in 1992 and married in 1995 while Dorian was at WSU. Having each grown up in strict households, the couple shied away from drugs and alcohol. Brenda recalls how silly she and Dorian felt when they were served champagne during their honeymoon. Family and faith were the bedrock of their marriage.

High hopes

Brenda and Dorian’s first son, Taylor, was born in 1996. Brenda remembers Taylor’s early years fondly for how much Dorian embraced being a father. Dorian loved his family immensely and could often be found horsing around and playing with Taylor.

Dorian balanced fatherhood and athletics well. He played a major role in putting Washington State University’s football program on the map with the “season of destiny” in 1997. The Cougars went 10-2 and made it to their first Rose Bowl appearance in 67 years. Dorian’s teammates voted him defensive captain for his outstanding play and leadership.

Dorian’s breakthrough in 1997 created the possibility of a bright new future. At the NFL Combine before the draft, Dorian was told he could have a 15-year football career. The New York Jets saw his potential and selected him 56th overall in the 1998 NFL Draft. An overnight star in New York, Dorian spoke for hours with everyone from then-Jets coach Bill Parcells to Regis Philbin and Kathie Lee Gifford for an appearance on Live with Regis and Kathie Lee.

“We were extremely excited about the future and for what was ahead,” said Brenda. “We thought we would be together forever and raise our boys and live a very fulfilling life.”

A different Dorian

Dorian’s time with the Jets didn’t live up to expectations. Injuries made it difficult for him to get consistent playing time. After two years in New York, he joined the Washington Commanders for another injury-riddled stint. Eventually, he signed with the Houston Texans but was waived again after a knee injury.

Brenda gave birth to the couple’s second son, Brady, in 2000. Within two weeks of getting cut by Houston, Brady was diagnosed with autism. For the Boose family, the already anxious stretch of Dorian’s career became even more stressful and overwhelming.

Around then, Brenda noticed a slightly different Dorian. Rather than embracing the challenge of Brady’s diagnosis, he became distant and aloof, developed a careless attitude, and was disappearing on his own for many evenings. When Brenda pressed him on what he was doing those nights, Dorian told her he had been drag racing.

“I was just shocked,” said Brenda. “It was so out of character for him, and I couldn’t make any sense of the situation.”

When he was healthy again, Dorian decided to try to rejuvenate his football career in the Canadian Football League. His career in the CFL couldn’t have started any better – he made seven sacks and won the Grey Cup his first year with Edmonton in 2003.

Dorian’s marriage was still strained and his residence in a different country only exacerbated the issue. When Dorian did call home, Brenda could hardly recognize the person on the other line and was heartbroken by how much he had deprioritized his family.

“It was like, ‘Who am I talking to?’” said Brenda. “The whole thing just fell apart.”

Exhausted from the uncertainty of their relationship and needing to provide stability for Taylor and Brady, Brenda made the difficult decision to file for divorce in 2003. Dorian played just one more season in the CFL in 2004 before retiring from professional football.

For the next decade, Brenda’s contact with Dorian was at best inconsistent and mostly non-existent. Brenda tried to protect the boys’ emotions as much as possible and didn’t want them to hear from Dorian if his communication was going to be scattered and incoherent. Because of the distance between them, they were mostly in the dark about where Dorian was and what he was doing.

Around 2015, Dorian’s acquaintances began messaging Brenda to tell her he needed serious help. Brenda reached out to the Royal Canadian Mounted Police and was able to connect with a detective who would investigate his whereabouts. He found Dorian and let Brenda know her ex-husband was living on the streets of Edmonton. The officer also told Brenda how well-loved Dorian was in the unhoused community. Later, Brenda learned Dorian prayed and served as encouragement for others in the community.

Despite the pain of learning that Dorian was living on the streets and the frustration and confusion of the past decade, Brenda was comforted to know his core values of faith and generosity were still on display. She passed along a message for the officer to tell Dorian to contact his parents and that God loved him. The officer relayed the messages and told Brenda they moved Dorian to tears.

In 2016, after years of distance, Taylor wanted to reach out to his dad and wish him well. With the help of Dorian’s mother, the family got in touch with Dorian, who was in a shelter getting help. Taylor and his father were able to have a conversation over the phone that spring.

A few months later, Brenda was awakened by a phone call the night of November 22. Dorian had died by suicide. He was 42 years old.

Brenda is thankful her family was able to speak with Dorian before he passed away.

“It was nothing but God that made that moment happen and we are grateful to this day,” she said.

Brenda doesn’t remember Dorian ever discussing concussions while they were together, and they had separated years before CTE had ever been diagnosed in a former NFL player. But after discussions with Dorian’s former agent, Brenda decided to donate his brain to the UNITE Brain Bank. There, Dr. Ann McKee diagnosed Dorian with stage 3 (of 4) CTE. Dr. McKee told Brenda how Dorian had one of the most severe cases she had seen in someone his age.

Brenda had two reactions to the diagnosis: first relief, then grief.

The relief came when Dr. McKee suggested the severity of Dorian’s CTE could have caused his behavior to change quite early in his life. The pathology explained why Dorian’s actions and behavior were so drastically different from the man Brenda knew Dorian to be.

Then came the immense grief. Brenda struggled to eat and sleep as she thought about how much Dorian would have suffered by himself without understanding exactly why he was changing.

“The CTE took Dorian’s life,” said Brenda. “It took his future. It took his being a husband. It took his being a father. It took everything.”

 

Redemption

Brenda wants to share Dorian’s story to show why he struggled near the end of his life and to dispel the notion that his lack of NFL success drove him to despair.

“Dorian wasn’t bitter about his career not panning out,” said Brenda. “There was so much more to him than football. CTE caused this.”

These days, Brenda still has many beautiful memories about Dorian’s time in football, but her family’s relationship with the sport has changed since the diagnosis. With the knowledge she has gained through this experience, Brenda is now a strong believer in Flag Football Under 14. Even through Dorian didn’t start tackle football until high school, she sees moving away from youth tackle football as the best way to prevent future cases of CTE. Brenda urges parents to have the conversation about flag football early on for the health and safety of their kids.

Brenda is grateful for how much more information there is about CTE than there was when she and Dorian were married. If anyone finds themselves in a situation like she was in the early 2000s, she recommends leaning in on the resources available on CLF’s website and elsewhere. For other partners of suspected CTE, she has three pieces of advice: get educated about the disease, reach out for support, and have as much compassion as you can.

Though Dorian passed away far too soon and left her life well before his death, Brenda can see how the best of Dorian lives on in her two sons. In Taylor, Brenda can see Dorian’s many talents and strengths. And in Brady, Brenda sees glimpses that remind her of the beautiful man she met in the church choir all those years ago.

“He has his father’s spirit, always with a smile on his face and a joyful presence,” said Brenda. “I just want everyone to remember that part of Dorian more than anything.”

Suicide is preventable and help is available. If you are concerned that someone in your life may be suicidal, the five #BeThe1To steps are simple actions anyone can take to help someone in crisis. If you are struggling to cope and would like some emotional support, call the Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 to connect with a trained counselor. It’s free, confidential, and available to everyone in the United States. You do not have to be suicidal to call. If you’re not comfortable talking on the phone, consider using the Lifeline Crisis Chat at 988lifeline.org/chat 

Are you or someone you know struggling with lingering concussion symptoms? We support patients and families through the CLF HelpLine, providing personalized help to those struggling with the outcomes of brain injury. Submit your request today and a dedicated member of the Concussion Legacy Foundation team will be happy to assist you.

 

Daniel Brabham

 

Daniel Brabham was an Air Force veteran, a teacher, a family man, an accomplished college and professional football player, and a lifelong crusader for change.

 

A former operator with Shell Chemical, native of Greensburg and resident of Prairieville, he passed away Sunday, January 23, 2011, in Baton Rouge, at the age of 69. He belonged to Carpenters Chapel United Methodist Church in Prairieville.  He also formerly taught high school chemistry and math in Tangipahoa Parish. He was a veteran of the U.S. Air Force Reserves. He attended the University of Arkansas and LSU, receiving a bachelor’s degree in vocational agriculture and numerous academic recognitions through honor societies: Omicron Delta Phi, as well as being an Academic All-American.

He played football at college and professional levels, receiving distinction as an All-Southwest Conference recipient (1962) and as the third leading rusher in the SWC during his first year as a fullback. He was the first-round draft pick for the Houston Oilers and later traded to the Cincinnati Bengals, his career spanning from 1963-1968. He was a lifelong crusader for change, having smoking banned in his workplace in the 1980s and founding the Louisiana Fisherman’s Forum. He enjoyed genealogy (tracing his family history to Scotland and organizing reunions), handgrabbing for catfish (featured sportsman in Louisiana Conservationist and in a filmed documentary), aviation (acquired his pilot’s license), writing poetry and music, and spinning yarn surrounded by family and friends. Additionally, he was a steam locomotive and history buff, a self-taught player of the guitar and piano, and an avid reader.

Joseph Campigotto

Have you ever tried to hold on to a runaway train? Just grab ahold and not let go even though you know where it’s headed? A year ago, I tried.

I got the call early Monday morning, April 25th. Angela, listen, she said, your dad stopped eating. It’s time to come home. I broke out in a rash. I couldn’t really breathe. I bought a plane ticket.

I knew it was coming. There was no avoiding that the years of slow decline would one day speed up and then it would just hit. Hit him. Hit all of us.

You think you are ready. For years I watched my funny, smart, creative, caring dad just drift away. I would catch glimpses of him every now and again. Even at his worst, I knew he was doing everything he could to protect me from what he knew was happening to him. We would talk as if it would someday just get better. We all know. It never got better.

I used to think…at least he is still here, if only physically. I can see him. I can call him, even if he really can’t say much back to me. He is still here. But as years went on, and it got worse and I could see just how much he was suffering, I knew he really didn’t want to be here anymore, my thoughts changed.

So many days I just wished he had cancer. I wished he had anything that would spare his mind, and just take his body instead. Maybe he will just have a heart attack. Maybe there is another way to make it end better, faster, for him…because we all knew how much worse it was going to get.

I never thought I would live on a planet where I would wish my dad a fast and unexpected death. But there I was. Wanting the man who I looked up and loved my whole life…to just die. It was so heartbreakingly painful. Absolutely devastating in every sense knowing there was nothing else I could do. That anyone could do.

I got to the nursing home and my dad’s bed had been moved to the corner. Now on a dramatic angle into the middle of the room. Walls bare. His favorite Pavarotti CD playing on the crappy little CD player we got for him. The plant I bought him still blooming in the window that faced a sad courtyard. Wearing his favorite Ohio State t-shirt, eyes closed, covered with a quilt, struggling to breath, turning grey, still looking so strong, still so much like a football player. He was surrounded by our amazing family and his loving and devoted friends. The hospice nurses administered morphine while everyone explained to me that he wasn’t in pain and the breathing sounded worse than it felt. He didn’t know what was happening.

I got there at 9pm. My brother at 11:30. Dad passed a little after midnight. We all held on to his body, sweaty and on fire with death. We all just hung on like we could stop it somehow. It did…it felt like jumping on the side of a train that was going over a cliff and you knew there were not brakes but you did it anyway. He took one last big breath. Opened his eyes to look around the room as if to confirm everyone he needed was there…and then he was gone. Just like that.

I still don’t know where I found the strength to be in that room. I would have placed all bets against myself to be able to stand there and just watch someone I loved more than anything disappear. But I had been watching him disappear for years.

Just slowly fading away, little by little with every phone call. Every visit there was a little bit less of him to visit. Every trip to the basement revealed more dust on his wood working tools. Slowly all his shoes replaced with Velcro. His shirts no longer had buttons. His vocabulary down to just a few words or sounds.

This is what football did to my dad, and my family. My dad was an all-state player. A really tough guy on all accounts. But he could not withstand this final blow from the sport.

My grandparents, Dee and Jim, are still alive. My grandpa just turned 90. My grandma in her 80s.

Angela, we just didn’t know. We didn’t know he could get hurt like this. Damn, I wish we would have known.

My grandpa and I suspected CTE as soon as dad’s symptoms became more pronounced. We would talk about it a lot. My dad’s doctors laughed me off the phone when I brought it up. Most didn’t even know he had played until I called and insisted it went into his chart. 7 years? No NFL? No way this is CTE.

But now we know. We know what my grandparents wish they would have known all those years ago. Every hit hurts. And in the end hurts more than just the player.

In a cab, on the way to the airport, I called the Boston University Brain Bank.

Hi there. My dad is going to die and I want you take his brain.

Not a call I thought I would ever make and not a call I want anyone else to feel like they need to make. The woman on the phone was sympathetic and thanked me. They moved swiftly to get me paperwork and had someone ready to take my dad’s brain the next day.

His brain went to Boston and where, just like in life, in death, my dad proved to be an exceptional case. With an unusual presentation, my dad’s brain is continuing to teach lessons to anyone who comes in contact with it.

So now, one year later, I have learned a lot about myself, my family, CTE, the amazing group of people working SO HARD at the Concussion Legacy Foundation (and I am SO happy to be helping them), and about how to live my life without my dad, who for so many years validated every decision I made.

Hey dad, you think I should buy a TV?

Well hell yes! Let’s go to Best Buy!

God damnit, I miss you dad.

I am who I am because you were who you were.

I will never stop working to stop this from happening to other players and their families. So buckle up people. We have a long ride ahead of us and we need some cash to make it happen. I kicked off a fundraiser Concussion Legacy Foundation and all the amazing work they do. My belief is the work they are doing today won’t only benefit those who have suffered repeated head injuries from contact sports, but also those who suffer from all types of degenerative brain diseases such as Alzheimer’s, which has touched so many of our lives.

Thanks for helping me remember my dad and thanks for helping to support the cause. Let’s stop this from happening to anyone else.

Matt Cappotelli

 

Matt grew up in the small town of Caledonia, New York, which was a huge football town. His dad owned a gym and had him start lifting weights at a young age, something he loved and continued for the rest of his life. He started playing football in 8th grade and quickly became a star player. Matt had a great work ethic and was an amazing athlete, but he was also smart, witty, funny, outgoing, humble, and kind. He was known in his town and high school not only as a terrific football player, but for his humility and caring personality. Matt was a Jesus follower, and you could see that in the way he loved and interacted with people.

Matt continued playing football throughout his first couple of years of college at Western Michigan University, until he had to stop playing due to knee issues. This was when he decided to audition for Tough Enough, a reality show on MTV where contestants competed to win a contract with the WWE as a professional wrestler. Matt had been a wrestling fan since he was a little kid, growing up watching wrestling on TV with his dad. He ended up winning the show and was then sent to Louisville, Kentucky, to train at Ohio Valley Wrestling before being put on TV. That’s when I entered the picture.

Ohio Valley Wrestling (OVW) held a live weekly show on Wednesday nights that I would occasionally go to with friends, and we ended up meeting there after one of the shows. I knew who he was from watching Tough Enough a few times, and I was instantly drawn to him because of his strong faith. After our first date, I knew he was “the one” and that I would marry him some day.

We dated for two years, during which he continued to train at OVW, as well as occasionally travel to shows with the WWE. Matt’s dream was to become a WWE Superstar, not only because he loved to entertain and perform, but also to be a positive example for Christ in that industry. He was on the verge of his dream becoming reality when he discovered he had a brain tumor. It was one week before he was set to debut on Monday Night Raw.

Incredibly, Matt had no symptoms and only discovered the tumor after being knocked unconscious in the ring during an OVW match. He was sent to the hospital to get checked out, which was when they discovered the tumor. After a biopsy, Matt was diagnosed with stage 2 brain cancer. We got married on the beach in Hawaii two months later.

Unfortunately, with the cancer diagnosis, Matt had to put his dream of becoming a WWE Superstar on hold. In 2007, he had surgery to remove the tumor, and then did six weeks of proton radiation, followed by oral chemotherapy for the following two years. From that point on, he had MRIs regularly and the scans were clear for the next 10 years.

We had an amazing 12-year marriage, and I’m so thankful for those cancer free years I got to have with him, living life to the fullest. From our beach trips, to cruising in the Jeep on summer nights, our pizza and putt-putt dates, and even just our boring nights chilling on the couch at home, every day with him was fun. His smile and laugh were the joy of my days. I thanked God every single day for sending him to me. I never imagined the tumor would come back and naively thought his fight with cancer was over. Little did I know; the worst was yet to come.

Exactly 10 years after his first brain surgery, an MRI showed the tumor had grown back. I’ll never forget the day I got that call and heard those words come from his mouth – my worst nightmare had come true. Two days later, Matt had surgery to remove as much of the tumor as they could from his brain. About a week later we got the official diagnoses: Grade IV glioblastoma multiforme (GBM), the worst and deadliest form of brain cancer. The prognosis for GBM is not good, and we were told that even with treatment, the average life expectancy is around six months.

Matt underwent chemotherapy and also used a device called Optune, a fairly new form of treatment for brain cancer. Unfortunately, the treatments couldn’t keep the tumor from growing, and he continued to decline as the months went by. Watching my strong, outgoing, energetic husband slowly deteriorate was the worst thing I’ve ever been through in my life. He passed away exactly a year after his brain surgery on June 29th, 2018.

I knew Matt wanted to donate his organs, but because of the cancer he was unable to do so. He couldn’t speak towards the end, but I just knew he would have wanted to do something to help others in some way. Then I remembered his interest in CTE. During Matt’s time with the WWE, he became friends with Chris Nowinski and learned of the work he was doing to advance concussion and CTE research.

Matt was committed to CTE research as someone who had suffered multiple concussions in the past through football and wrestling, and someone who always wanted to help out a friend in any way he could. When he had his tumor removed in 2007, he reached out to Chris and coordinated sending the brain sample to Boston and the UNITE Brain Bank, just in case they could learn something from some of the healthy tissue that was removed. He did the same thing after his surgery in 2017. When we lost Matt, I knew he would have wanted his brain donated to help further CTE research. So that is what we did. He is the first person to have his brain tissue studied for CTE while he was alive and after he passed away.

While Matt had no obvious symptoms of CTE I saw during his life, it’s hard to really know because of the enormous changes his cancer caused. He did suffer from mild seizures or partial seizures, as they’re called, for the last two years of his life. Around the same time, he was also diagnosed with Parkinsonism, which is a neurological disorder that has many similar symptoms of Parkinson’s disease, such as slow movement, speech and writing changes, and muscle stiffness, among others. I noticed some of these changes a few years before he died, as well as some slight personality changes over the last few years.

When we got the results back from the donation, we learned he had been diagnosed with CTE, as well as Parkinson’s Disease. I found myself a bit emotional after hearing the diagnosis, and it explained a few things for me. Now I know that along with everything he dealt with from his brain cancer, he may also have been experiencing the early stages of CTE’s effect on his mood, memory, and thinking. Despite all of this adversity, he handled it like a champ, always stayed positive, and never complained.

The most common thing people say about Matt is that he was one of, if not the BEST, person they knew. He impacted countless lives. There was something about him – his smile, his laugh, just his presence, that drew people to him. More than that though, I think it’s because of the way he genuinely cared about others and how he made everyone he met feel important, no matter who they were. He made everybody feel like a somebody. He loved helping others and making people laugh. I think he was happiest when he was putting a smile on someone else’s face.

Throughout all of his injuries and health conditions, and even after two brain surgeries, chemo, and radiation, he never complained or felt sorry for himself. He never let it get him down. He was still always looking out for others and always laughing and joking around, even at the very end of his life. That was just Matt. I know he was disappointed that his dreams of becoming a WWE superstar didn’t become a reality, but he didn’t let it get him down. He continued to trust God’s plan and made the best of where He put him. He continued to help and inspire others, even if it wasn’t in the wrestling ring. All he wanted to do from his initial diagnosis of brain cancer in 2006 was to help and inspire others with his story and to point them to Jesus, and my hope is that his story will continue to do so. I’m thankful for the Concussion Legacy Foundation and that Matt was able to play a role in advancing the research and awareness of CTE, which I know is what he would have wanted.