Grant Feasel

Grant Feasel was a father, a brother, an 11-year NFL veteran and, now, a Legacy Donor. But who was Grant, really? His closest family members and friends offer their thoughts and memories below.

Grant Earl Feasel passed away peacefully in Fort Worth, Texas, on Sunday, July 15, 2012 after a lengthy illness.

Grant, a long-time resident of Colleyville, Texas, is survived by three children: sons, Sean and Spencer, and daughter, Sarah; mother, Patricia Feasel; sister, Linda (Feasel) Slayton; brother, Greg Feasel; children’s mother, Cyndy Feasel; plus numerous nieces, nephews and extended family. He was preceded in death by his father, DeWayne Feasel.

Born on June 28, 1960, in Barstow, California, Grant graduated from Barstow High School in 1978, lettering in football, wrestling and baseball. Upon graduation he was awarded a football scholarship to attend Abilene Christian University.

At ACU Grant was a four-year letterman and a three-year starter from 1979 to 1982. As a senior, he was named an Associated Press First-Team Division II All-American, First-Team All-Lone Star Conference and was voted the conference’s lineman of the year. A three-time academic all-conference choice and second team Academic All-American as a senior, he was selected to the ACU Sports Hall of Fame (Class of 1994-95) and LSC Team of the Decade for the 1980s. In 1997 he was selected to the NCAA Division II Team of the Quarter Century. He majored in pre-medicine and was accepted to Baylor University’s College of Medicine. He also was awarded the prestigious NCAA Post-Graduate Scholarship and the Annual Trustees Student Award for outstanding contribution and devotion to Abilene Christian University in 1983.

Drafted by the Baltimore Colts in the sixth round of the 1983 NFL draft, Grant played eleven seasons in the National Football League. He played for the Minnesota Vikings (1984-86) and the Seattle Seahawks (1987-93). He started for Seattle in the 1987 NFL playoffs, and also competed in the 1988 playoffs and played every offensive down of the sixteen-game season in 1989.

Grant and his family were long-time members of the Richland Hills Church of Christ. He was a beloved father, son and brother, plus a friend to many, many people.

The following tributes were written from his loving family and friends and shared during Grant’s memorial service.


From Spencer (son)

It seems like yesterday I was in elementary school having to tell the class what I wanted to be when I grew up. While the other kids said they wanted to be firemen and doctors, I remember standing up with confidence and saying, “When I grow up I want to be my dad.” Grant Earl Feasel was my hero, although he didn’t wear a cape and fight off villains. What he did do was teach not only me, but my brother Sean and my sister Sarah everything we know. I know there are hard times, and we all had some differences, but at the end of the day I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up any other way. I know I lost my dad when he was only fifty-two years of age and I was only eighteen, but I know this has happened to make me the man and father I will someday be. I just hope that I can be half as great a father to my children as mine was to me for only a short eighteen years. And I will cherish those eighteen years with my father and look back on them for the rest of my life. My dad was the greatest father I could ever ask for. I love you so much, Dad. I’m sorry we had to say goodbye, but we will meet again one day in Heaven.


From Sarah (daughter)

Daddy,
I always struggled to find the right way to tell you how proud I am of you. The truth is that your heart has always been too beautiful for this world. You saw and felt things differently than everyone else and you saw beauty in a way no one else could. The greatest compliment I’ve ever received is Aunt Linda telling me I have the same heart as you. She also told me that you called her crying the day I was born because you were so happy. Growing up you taught me to love rock ‘n roll. I’ll never forget singing Led Zeppelin and Tom Petty at the top of our lungs driving down 635. You also taught me how to give and give selflessly. You gave so much and made sure no one ever knew about it. You taught me about grace and forgiveness because you continually forgave me. One of the last things you said to me is, “Remember the beach.” I will remember that, Daddy, and so much more. You gave us enough memories to last a lifetime. I’ll remember those memories when my children ask about you, and I’ll get to tell them the kind of man you were. I’ll tell them that because of who you were I will cherish every minute of this life and never take it for granted. I’m still so proud of you, Daddy, and I’ll never stop bragging on you. Saying thank you doesn’t seem like enough, but thank you for teaching me where to find the source of lasting strength. The way you loved Jesus was inspiring to everyone who knew you. You loved to worship Him and I know that’s what you’re doing right now. I’m so thankful to know Jesus holds you now and takes away your pain. I know you had many friends waiting for you in Heaven, and I know I’ll see you there one day. You deserve to be free, Daddy. I love you so much. Love always, Your Princess Sarah


From Sean (son)

As I sat down to write this, I found it so very difficult to come up with the right words to adequately describe my father and everything that he means to me. How could I possibly articulate my feelings for such a special person and the relationship that I had with him? How could I possibly translate my emotions into words that would allow me to paint a picture of what I feel inside my heart? My dad was so many things to so many people.

The first word that comes to mind when I think about my dad is “Hero”—I promise that Spencer and I did not compare notes as we were writing. I didn’t know that he said the same thing until I read his letter late last night. But I was not surprised, because my dad was a real-life hero, in every sense of the word, to me, Spencer, and many others. I cannot tell you how many people have reached out to me over the past few days just to let me know that my dad was their hero, because I lost count.

I have so many fond memories of my dad. I didn’t even know where to start when it came time for narrowing down what to share with you. My dad was my best buddy in the whole world when I was growing up. I looked forward to the football offseason each year like most children anxiously await Christmas morning, because offseason meant that I had my dad all to myself for a few months. And we made sure to take full advantage of the time together. I hope this doesn’t upset any of his former teammates who are here today, but I sure wasn’t upset when they failed to make the playoffs!

We did all kinds of cool stuff during the offseason—it seemed like he had something planned almost every day. We would play golf, go to the pool, build stuff in the garage. We made all kinds of memories that I will cherish forever, but our favorite activity back then was to ride dirt bikes together. I remember one time we loaded up our bikes and went to check out a new track that we had never been to before. We started off cruising around, and we explored some trails for a little while. But I quickly grew tired of that and challenged him to a race. We picked out a tree way off in the distance as the finish line. I could tell he was pretty confident that he was going to beat me because he had a much bigger and faster motorcycle, but he didn’t know that I had a plan. The route to the finish line was a big half circle around a field covered with waist-high brush. I was going to let him get ahead of me and then cut through the brush field straight to the finish line. My plan was working perfectly, right up until the point that I ran into an old, dried-up creek bed that was about eight feet deep and four feet wide, going way too fast to stop. It was an ugly crash that ended with my bike on top of me in the bottom of that creek bed. A few seconds later my dad pulled up and took his helmet off, and once he saw that I was okay, he started laughing so hard that he couldn’t even talk. I was curious as to what he thought was so funny because I sure didn’t see the humor in my current situation! He helped me to my feet, and once he gathered himself he said, “I was watching you tear across that field at top speed and all of a sudden you just vanished into thin air! I thought you disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle!” When I heard that, I started cracking up. Once we finally stopped laughing, he pulled me and my bike up out of that creek bed and said, “Well, Sean, I bet that will teach you not to cut any corners in life.” And you better believe I remembered that lesson after I learned it the hard way.

As a small child I guess I just assumed that all fathers were as great as mine, but it became very clear that my dad was the coolest one day in the First Grade. That day was career day. Evidently all of the other dads did not play football for a living, and being a pro-football player was the coolest job ever—that was news to me! If I remember correctly, we had a policeman, a lawyer, a preacher, and a doctor show up as well. All very noble professions, but the football player stole the show that day! Needless to say, I never had anyone approach me with the “my dad could beat up your dad” argument.

Though my dad was so much more than just a football player, there is no denying that the game was a big part of his life. You are all aware of what he accomplished as a player, but I want you all to know that his accomplishments on the football field extended far beyond the end of his playing days. He most certainly passed his competitive drive and his love for the game down to me. And he used the game of football as a vessel to break through and teach me and many other young men that he had the opportunity to coach throughout the years the important lessons about the game of life. The life lessons that he taught me on the football field molded me into the man that I am today, and I am confident that many others in this room would tell you the exact same thing. He used the game to help build our character, to teach us toughness, sacrifice, resilience, dedication, teamwork, and diligence, just to name a few.

I recall a conversation that we had very early on in my playing days just like it was yesterday. He said, “Sean, the most important lesson that you’ll learn out here is how to get back up after you have been knocked down, again and again.” Although I did not grasp the depth of that statement at the time he said it, I really took it to heart, and it has been applicable to my life many times over the years. But, Dad, this knockdown is unlike any other that I have experienced. I know it isn’t going to be easy, but I promise you that I am going to get back up, because that is what you taught me to do.

Quite a few of my old teammates have contacted me over the past few days to let me know how much it meant to them that my dad sacrificed his time for all of those years to be a volunteer coach, and what an impact that time had on their lives. It brought back so many good memories. Some of the stories that came up earlier this week brought me to laughter and put a smile on my face at a time when I wasn’t sure if I would ever smile again.

My dad gave us pointers, encouragement, constructive criticism—though there were a few instances when I questioned the constructive part—and taught us many tricks of the trade that only an old NFL vet would know. He gave us a clear advantage over the competition on the gridiron. But more importantly he always made sure to relate what he was teaching us on the football field to what we were going to encounter in the real world, and he made sure that we knew how to apply the same principles to face the challenges and climb the obstacles of life.

Not only did my dad use coaching as an outreach ministry, he also used the platform built by what he accomplished on the football field to make a difference by reaching into the lives of many others and touching their hearts—hearts that he may not have had an opportunity to reach otherwise. Looking back, it was such a privilege to be able to tag along with him, and have a front row seat on many occasions to watch as God used my dad to inspire others. I remember going with him one time when he went to speak at a men’s retreat back when I was just a little guy. It was truly a testament to the character of my father to see firsthand just how influential of a man that he really was, and to watch him use his ability to influence to spread the message about his Lord and Savior. My dad knew that his status as a football player gave him the gift of influence, and this was not a responsibility that he took lightly. And I am so very proud to tell you that he used that gift to further the kingdom of God every single time that he had an opportunity. I have had several people tell me that they would not be a part of the body of Christ today if it were not for my dad, and I guarantee you that he was far more proud of that than any of the rewards he ever received for playing football.

My dad used to tell me, “Sean, you need to make sure that you are always conscious of how you conduct yourself because you are a leader, and you have the ability to influence others. That means you aren’t just responsible for your own actions—you bear some responsibility for the actions of others.” He would say, “People are going to look up to you because you are tall, and you need to be aware of that.”

My response to that was, “Well, Dad, I guess I don’t have anything to worry about as long as I am standing next to you.”

He quickly fired back with, “You would be just as tall as I am if you weren’t so bow-legged!”

Jeff Kemp, a long-time friend and teammate of my dad’s, recently described him by saying, “Grant was the quintessential sacrificial warrior. He wrapped himself up in the duty to clear the way for and to protect his teammates. He took his job so seriously. Our families grew up together, and Grant deeply loved his family. He had a great sense of humor, but never during the heat of battle.”

Right after I read Jeff’s tribute it became clear to me just how accurate his description of my father really was. I sat down at my dad’s desk to start preparing what I was going to say today, and I came across a folder full of loose pieces of paper and note cards that my dad had kept throughout the years. The first piece of paper I pulled out said, “Vikings Training Camp Goals—1986” across the top, and the goals that he had listed on that piece of notebook paper were:

  • One day at a time, one play at a time
  • Be aggressive
  • Be a starter
  • Do it for Cyndy and the baby—Sean will be proud of my effort
  • Don’t take the easy way out; no excuses
  • Make every practice count
  • Be an All-Pro and win the Super Bowl
  • Earn respect and dominate
  • Don’t get beat at 1-on-1 pass pro
  • Be a professional
  • Be Mr. Consistent
  • Remember who you are playing for and why. Because you are in a good position God expects more from you
  • Just play my game, be positive and remember that I’m the man

The next piece of paper that I pulled out of that folder was an old newspaper article from right after my dad retired. At the end of the article there was a copy of a telegram that was sent to my dad on the day of his retirement party by Tom Flores who was the coach and GM of the Seahawks at the time. The telegram said, “On this evening commemorating your NFL career. In your 7 seasons with the Seattle Seahawks you conducted yourself as the consummate professional on and off the field with both class and dignity. I know I can speak for all the coaches, your teammates, our staff and friends in saying you will be missed on the field, but you will always be part of our family.”

If I could send my dad a telegram (or maybe an email) on the day of this retirement party, I would say to him, “Dad, I am so proud of you, and I love you. It was such an honor and a blessing to be your son. I am so thankful for everything you have ever done for me. You provided me with more opportunities and advantages in life than most could ever dream of. And you taught me so much. I will do everything in my power to continue your legacy. You will be greatly missed down here, but you will always be my daddy and my hero.”


From Greg (brother)

Wow, where do I start today? I apologize up front. There is no playbook for this. First, our family is grateful, honored, humbled, and blown away by the love and support. Secondly, it’s great to see everyone. We want to thank you for coming today to honor Grant and by honoring him our family and you honor God. We want you to know how important all of you are to us. Our lives have truly been blessed because of you.

I’m so sorry for all of us. It needs to be said upfront, the last few years have been very difficult for Grant and very difficult for our family. We are so sorry. We also need to send out a special thank you, to the ones who went above on beyond the call of duty for Grant. You stepped up for him—we know there was many times when it was very difficult. I will not even try to say the names or list what you did for him. It was family, friends, co-workers, the people Valley Hope, Spring Wood, Heartland, HEB, the Hospice and his work (Fuji Film). You know who you are, we know who you are, Grant knows who you are and more importantly God knows who you are. You are remarkable people. You set the bar for the Golden Rule. You did it out of respect and love. From the bottom of our hearts we thank you for loving Grant.

His life was not supposed to end this way. He had it all—a great heart, great presences, brains, good looks, strong work ethic. Everyone loved him and he loved them back. Just about every gift you could describe he had. At the beginning of the movie “The Natural” the father is talking to a young Roy Hobbs, and he tells his son “A gift is not enough. If you rely on your gifts alone you will fail.”

We want you to know we are as shocked as you are that this could happen to Grant. We are asking the same questions. How? Why? What happened? How does a guy from 1291 West Buena Vista, in Barstow, overcome every obstacle thrown in his path, not beat this one? The answer is we don’t know and may never know. But, that not why we are here today. We are here to remember Grant, celebrate his life, and celebrate God’s gift of grace (getting what we don’t deserve) and gift of eternal life.

A very dear friend of mine, Bo Mitchell. Called me when dad passed away to provide some words of encouragement “Death does not determine (God does) the direction you go but fixes into place for all time the direction you have already chosen to go (while you were still alive).”

Grant chose Christ (you can book it), and as Christian’s we don’t pass from life to death. We pass from life to life. None of us, including Grant were happy about his condition at the end. Today we can have heavy hearts, we can cry, we can get angry, we can be confused. But, we can also have joy. We can have hope and peace because we will see him again in Heaven. As Christians we know God’s love is unconditional and God’s grace unconditional. That’s His promise! We also know God has a special place for Grant because he did make that decision. We also know Christ died on that cross for all of us.

In Isaiah we read, “But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed. We all, like sheep, have gone astray, each of us has turned to our own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”

Grant stumbled. He knew it. He said it with his lips. He said it with his eyes. It’s said, “The eyes are the windows to the soul”—and you could see it in his eyes. He knew it. Job said, “For the thing which I greatly feared has come upon me.” Grant gave up a sack. His gifts were not enough to overcome this adversity.

Grant and I were big Rocky Balboa fans growing up. I remember the two of us driving the Red Sled (1952 GMC pickup) to San Bernardino to see the first Rocky movie in (1976). In Rocky IV it’s Rocky vs. Drago, David vs. Goliath. Drago was billed as unbeatable, invincible, the perfect athlete, the perfect fighter. Old school vs. new school, low tech workouts vs. high tech workouts. As always, Rocky had no chance to win. The fight starts; he gets knocked around. Then, out of nowhere Rocky cuts Drago. Rocky’s manager yells, “You see, you see—he’s not a machine. He’s just a man.” At times, we all saw Grant as bigger than life and maybe invincible. Well, Grant was just a man! On any given play, any moment in sports, it’s filled with imperfections. We all are just human. We are not perfect. But by the grace of God and the sacrifice of His Son, Jesus, we can leave our imperfections at the foot of the cross.

Everyone knows our family loves the beach. You have to love the ocean after growing up in Barstow where the summer temps are always over 115 degrees. We have all watched little kids play in the surf, running back as forth as the waves come in and go out. I will never forget the first time our daughter, Zoie, got blasted by a wave (yes, on my watch). She would have a smile on her face from ear to ear as the waves chased her to shore. She would turn around and chase the water back out. Each time she would gain more confidence and go farther out. We all know what happened next—the big one hit! Arms, legs, hair everywhere as she tumbled back to shore—tears, nose running, covered in sand. Zoie did not plan for that to happen. She did not see it coming, but it did. I think that, in some strange way, is what happened to Grant. He did not see it coming and got too far out and could not get back to shore. Praise God for His grace, and for His promise—that death does not determine the direction we go, He does.

We all knew Grant was special at a very early age. He was always ready for the game, ready for the test, ready for any task both mentally and physically. I remember he started running a bank out of a red metal ammo box. He might have been 8 years old. And, yes, he had the only key— who knew?! Mom often went to him for milk money. He was always happy to help out. But, he always made sure Mom paid him back. And, Linda, I think we can assume Grant finally has forgiven you for not paying back that $1 you took from the bank and never paid back. At 10 it was clear that he knew how to lead, and we saw it in pee wee football (the Marauder’s). At 12 we saw his compassion and his love for others and his love for God. As a camper at TANDA Church Camp he was named the Best Boy Camper 1974. He always knew what he wanted and was gladly willing to pay the price, or he was willing to walk away. That conviction, that mind-set, continued into college. He told the football coaches he would come to ACU but wanted to be a pre-med student and he would not miss the afternoon labs or his studies. On most nights he was gone from dorm room well past curfew. Everyone knew he was in the science building, studying.

Wednesday morning at the gym as I turned on my iPad/Netflix, I searched for a movie to veg out. Brian’s Song popped up. For you under forty, it’s a true story—a beautiful story about two Chicago Bears running backs, their lives, their unique/special relationship and death in 1971. I quickly flashed back to Morris Dorm at ACU—I can picture that dorm room full of football players like it was yesterday. I was telling Hal Wasson this story. He said I had the wrong room. I’m right. Hal is wrong. Then we argued which floor it was. Picture this, the lights turned off. Each of us holding a pillow to hide the fact that we were crying. Anyway, the scene that sticks out is at the end of the movie. Brian Piccolo and Gale Sayers are running through the park. The voice-over is the coach, George Halas. “Brian died of cancer at the age of 26. He left a great many loving friends and family who miss him and think of him often. But when they think of him, it’s not how died that they remember. But rather how he lived, how he did live!

Today, let’s remember how Grant lived.

A few of Grant’s friends also remember and share some thoughts:


“The first time I saw Grant, I thought he looked like a basketball player but found out soon enough how quick and aggressive he was in practice and explosive he was in games. I remember he always had time to listen to me no matter what the circumstances and encourage me when things were tough. He taught me how to surf when we were playing the University of Hawaii. But the most important experience that has lasted a lifetime for me was and is his example of being a Christian. I am thankful to Grant and his family for taking an interest in me as a young, lost individual and giving me some direction through Christ Jesus. After becoming a Christian, Grant was one of the first people to congratulate me and encourage me.
“And if was lucky I might get a bite of his mother’s famous cinnamon rolls.
“He sent me a care package during Desert Shield/Desert Storm which had the Seattle Seahawks return address on the box. It was fun watching the reaction of some of my fellow Marines as I opened the package. He was always a positive influence on my life. I love you Grant—you will always be in my heart.
“I love you, brother—David Rankin”


“Today I’m thinking of when we were boys in Barstow. Grant, you had a sense of humor, perfect timing—you were funny. Thanks for all the laughs. So on this day of death and sorrow, I choose to think upon life and laughter. Through faith I know Grant is alive and well, happy in his new body, finding humor in it all.
“Your friend, Mark Korn”


“When I first met Grant on my recruiting visit to ACU, all I knew was, ‘This guy is big!’ But it didn’t take long to get to know Grant and find there was so much more to him than size and athletic ability.

“Grant was a leader. He was a great football player—and going against him in practice every day made me a better player too. He led by example—not a lot of talk, but hard work and commitment. He pushed himself to be the best, and others followed his example.

“Grant was smart. I was always impressed that he was Pre-Med and played football. Not only was it difficult, but he excelled—I remember his GPA being in the 3.5-3.6 range—leaving practice early or coming late because of a chemistry or bio lab.

“Grant had a great sense of humor. He loved to laugh. He was always cracking jokes and making fun of himself and his teammates.

“Grant had a great heart. If there was one thing I knew about Grant, it was that he cared for people. It was obvious in the way he interacted with others—he could be funny, have a great time joking around, but then serious about the important things.

“He loved God. I know Grant had deep faith. It was obvious that his life didn’t depend on his circumstances to make him happy.”

Dan Niederhofer


“Dedicated. Focused. Competitive. Leader. Caring. The list could go on and on when you are describing Grant. From the moment I met Grant in August of 1978 at ACU, I always knew that I had a great friend, and over the four years that we lived together in Morris Hall, we shared so many experiences together that I will cherish for the rest of my life. Over the years as our careers and families took us on different paths, when we got together we would always reminisce about those special times we spent together so many years ago. The one thing that always struck me about Grant was how dedicated and focused he was on the task at hand. Preparation was always such an essential part of his life. Whether it was studying for a test, or preparing for an upcoming opponent, or even leading singing and delivering the message at Hamby Church of Christ, he took great pride in preparing for that special moment. As we all gather today to remember our great friend and brother, let us not weep in sorrow for our loss, but let us rejoice in the fact that Grant is at the side of Christ, and as we speak, he is preparing for all of us a place when we meet again.”

Kris Hansen


“As I reflect upon my time with Grant, I am reminded of the Biblical characters David and Goliath. When an offense breaks the huddle, the first to leave and the first person the opposing team sees is the center. Just as the Israelites first saw Goliath, the defense would first see Grant approaching the line of scrimmage. A towering and impressive site that we hoped would reflect the upcoming offensive attack. He gave confidence to his teammates because of his size and ability. Yet, like King David who led his soldiers in battle, Grant’s teammates knew he would perform his assignment correctly. They knew he would make the correct calls at the line. With his shepherd-like spirit he would encourage and challenge his teammates in the huddle, on the sideline, and in practice. His teammates also knew Grant gave God the glory for his talents and ability.

“My last visual recollection of Grant was a few years ago when he was visiting one Sunday at Southern Hills. I saw him from across the foyer, head and shoulders above the others around him, and only spoke with him briefly because so many wanted to visit with him. But what I remember most as I saw him across the room was that giant smile of his, a smile he seemed to always have. His smile was a reflection of the spirit in his heart—a man after God’s own heart. May God’s smile be upon Grant and his loved ones this day.”

Don Harrison


“Grant’s life cannot be summed up in a short paragraph. But to those of us who knew him well and loved him dearly, here are some words that begin to describe who Grant was:
“A neat freak
“A huge, loud laugh that would make you want to laugh
“A California free spirit
“Driven, disciplined
“Always looking in the mirror at himself
“Self-conscious
“Great rhythm
“A heart for the little guy
“Referred to everyone as ‘Dude!’—before dude became cool
“Hair always perfect
“Huge Neil Young fan
“Always offering advice—even when you weren’t looking for any
“Extremely loyal, trustworthy
“Would never quit talking about his family
“Tender and compassionate
“An irritatingly slow and picky eater, sometimes refusing to go into a restaurant he didn’t like, rather sitting outside while we ate
“A funny, sometimes twisted sense of humor
“An overachiever. But out of the many awards he won, the one he was most proud of and never let us hear the end of?? “Del Taco Employee-of-the-Month”—three straight months in a row in high school! [Well, DeWayne you have that wrong—it was really Naugle’s.]
“Grant would laugh with other people but never at their expense.
“Tenderhearted, a pleaser
“An early riser and the first to go to bed
“Shamelessly used his large size to get to ride shotgun wherever we were traveling, and if he ever did end up in the back seat, would repeatedly complain to the point he would wear us out, and we would put him in the front seat just to shut him up.
“He would sweat more profusely than anyone we’ve ever known.
“He was moral and decent.
“A deep thinker, a closet intellectual
“A perfectionist
“Would let you know how he felt or what he was thinking just by giving a certain look
“Had a secret ambition to be a rock star
“Extremely competitive
“Loved telling stories and was a good storyteller, even if he told you the same story one hundred times
“Above all, Grant was peacemaker, a unifier, a lover—not a fighter
“To summarize the Grant we knew, we can say Grant simply ‘got it,’ and we loved him for it.”
-DeWayne Hall

Nate Fellner

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

From Nate’s father:

Nathan James Fellner was born on April 22, 1991, the happiest baby you could ever have known. He was constantly laughing and giggling, a total ball of energy. Nate never slept, literally. That energy translated into a gifted athlete with a sense of humor from the time he was a toddler.

Nate shined in every sport he tried: tee-ball, soccer, baseball, track, wrestling, and especially football. From a young age, he’d watch college football with me and say, “I want to do that, dad.” We discussed ways to reach his goals, and he set his mind to them. He wanted to excel in the classroom, in the community, and on the field. Play hard and keep your head down, do good things, help others, live up to your word, and be honest with what you say and do.

When Nate was little, his family called him “Nate the Great” because of his ability to stand out in everything he did. He wasn’t fond of that nickname as he thought it was egotistical, but it stuck nonetheless. Growing up, his friends called him “Nate Dawg” for his dogged determination and drive.

As a starter at Clovis West High School, Nate accomplished so many of his football dreams. He was an intricate part of the Valley Championship winning team, earning scholarship offers to many Division I schools including Stanford, Arizona, Washington, and the Air Force Academy to name a few. Ultimately, he chose to play for the University of Washington Huskies throughout his college career.

Nate struggled with demons and managed them as best he could. He was a Christian who strived to find answers with the help of God’s Word, which we discussed often in the later part of his life. I believe he was on the right path when he left us. I know in my heart he is finally resting in peace with Our Father.

I will see him again someday, God willing. Loving and missing you always, Nate.

 

The Nathan Fellner Memorial Scholarship

We created the Nathan Fellner Memorial Scholarship fund to honor Nate’s memory and bring awareness to the academic, athletic, and mental health issues student-athletes often face. This scholarship recognizes and supports students who will continue their formal education upon graduation from Clovis West, and who exhibit a strong character, perseverance through life’s challenges, and a distinctly brilliant sense of humor and competitive desire – all of which made Nate an exceptional friend, student, and athlete.

 

From Mikayla Pierce, Nate’s childhood friend

I had the pleasure of knowing Nate since I was five years old. Elementary school days turned into Kastner intermediate school days, and then four years of cheering for Nate on and off the field at Clovis West. Our twenties were spent seeing each other at holiday breaks as permitted by his football schedule.

The boy had a knack for making me laugh until my stomach hurt, and he had the same effect on everyone around him. Nate also had a sincere and thoughtful side – checking in on friends and making sure they were alright. My hope is that everyone saw him more for his heart and playful personality, not just the football phenom he was on the field.

Nate is now free of pain. The donation of his brain is a huge step in the right direction. I hope the study and CTE diagnosis of not only his brain but others like his forces organized sports to see how much more must be done to protect the health of their athletes.

I am so honored to have had Nate as a close friend for as long as I did. What a presence he had, and such a large void he has left among us.

 

From Anthony Elliott, Nate’s childhood friend

In the 30 years Nate was in my life, there are two qualities I most admired and will always remember. One was his sense of humor, and the other was his love (and talent) for all things athletic. Our friendship revolved around both.

Starting in kindergarten, Nate was the class clown and could make anyone laugh. Every day, we would head to recess for an intense game of basketball or football. Nate was fast, had a rocket arm, and could catch anything. During our summers, we also played baseball together and he was just as good there. Next came soccer, cross country, track, wrestling, and any other sport our schools offered. And you guessed it, he was good at every. Single. One!

From early childhood to our late teens, Nate and I were basically inseparable. Along with our other friend Ethan, the three of us spent over a decade seeing each other every single day. These are memories and stories I will cherish for a lifetime. Some were the best moments of my life.

Once we turned 18, we moved to different cities but that never stopped us from being in constant contact. Technology allowed our friendship to continue like it always had, spending our days texting each other jokes and sports updates. We talked about working out and training as if we still had games on Saturdays. Not a day goes by that something small – a song, an exercise, or a football team or player, doesn’t remind me of Nate. I miss him, and even writing this brought smiles and teary eyes.

Finding out about Nate’s CTE diagnosis came with mixed feelings. On one side, it brought some closure to have an answer for some of the battles Nate was fighting. He had his ups and downs, and his lows were hard on everyone. The other part of me was just heartbroken. This sport that we grew up with, loved, and helped shape us, ultimately led to Nate’s struggles. Hopefully his diagnosis can help prevent the same from happening to others in the future.

Nate’s friendship was one of the biggest blessings in my life. I love and miss him every day, and hope that we can make his name live on.

_____________________________

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 and 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.

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.

Hunter Foraker

As the coroner walked through Hunter Foraker’s apartment in Dallas, Texas, on September 18, 2017, she noticed football helmets displayed on his shelf.

They called Kim Foraker, Hunter’s mother, and asked her if she was interested in having an autopsy on Hunter’s brain. In their search for answers following Hunter’s suicide, the Forakers agreed.

Four days earlier, Kim, her husband Bill, and their daughter Jordan all spoke with a jovial Hunter. He was getting a carwash. The new job was great.

“Looking back on it, we all think he was drinking and just a little happier than usual,” Jordan said.

“Perfect”

Hunter Foraker was born on May 11, 1992. Within a year, he was in skis and joining his dad Bill on the mountains of Colorado. His childhood was spent doing all kinds of outdoor activities like mountain biking, camping, hiking and fishing.

Normal kids may fib every so often. Young Hunter was steadfastly loyal and honest to his family.

He had a drive for perfection that carried over to the classroom and every field Hunter stepped onto.

Hunter was a teacher’s dream. He may not have been the very sharpest in his class, but he was quiet, humble, respectful, attentive, and determined to do his best. His competitive spirit pushed him to do more and do better than his peers.

“I always thought it was the pressure to be perfect,” Jordan said. “He would stay up studying and working for hours because things didn’t come as easy to him, but he would put in the time to understand it just the same.”

Hunter dabbled in many sports but found the most success in football. With Bill as his coach, Hunter started playing tackle football in second grade. His size, athleticism, and aggressiveness made him a natural fit at linebacker.

“It was so wonderful to see Hunter and Bill together in a sport that gave Bill so much pleasure and fulfillment as a youth and knowing that Bill was coaching Hunter in the correct methods of hitting and tackling so that Hunter would not be injured,” Kim said.

“I Remember Seeing ‘Big Green’ Everywhere”

It didn’t take long for Hunter to make a name for himself on the Mullen High School football team in Sheridan, Colorado. He made varsity his sophomore year and was named a captain the following two years.

Hunter’s senior season at Mullen in 2009 included a long list of accomplishments. He recorded 100 tackles and led a Mullen defense that allowed just 5.7 points a game in their 14-0, state championship season. Hunter was named to the 5A First Team All-State roster and the state’s All-Academic team.

“I remember his senior year we went to some fancy dinner as a family, little did I know it was because Hunter was nominated for a pretty big award,” Jordan said. “Hunter acted like it was just another banquet. He was so humble.”

Football was a means to an end for Hunter. He decided before his junior year of high school that he wanted to attend an Ivy League school. He worked diligently and had great grades but knew he would struggle to get into his dream schools without football.

“He wanted to play with a higher level of player,” Kim said. “A player that wasn’t simply focused totally on football but had a future outside of football in mind.”

Dartmouth became the apple of Hunter’s eye. He loved that skiing was encouraged after the football season. He would be right at home in the cold Hanover, New Hampshire winters. He returned from his visit to campus and wrote “BIG GREEN” on everything he could at home. Later that year, he was ecstatic to learn he was accepted into Dartmouth and would play football there.

Football star. Ivy-bound. From the outside, Hunter succeeded in maintaining the image of perfection. But signs of deeper problems emerged in high school.

The confidence he played with on the gridiron was contrasted by a palpable anxiety in other parts of his life. His family believes the internal pressure he put on himself prevented him from trying new things.

In Hunter’s teenage years, massive mood swings began. Once, Bill confronted Hunter about why there was a scuff on his truck. The simple question caused Hunter to erupt and nearly strike his father.

Hunter began having terrible nightmares in high school. His dreams were so troubling he could never describe them to his family.

His junior year, Hunter intimated he wanted to end his life. After several consults, a psychiatrist told the Forakers that Hunter would be safe.

Hanover

Hunter was eager to start the nearly 2,000-mile journey from Littleton to Hanover. Once on campus, he adjusted well and quickly made new friends. He was a standout on the Dartmouth JV football team where he resumed his role as a magnet to opposing ballcarriers. Hunter’s freshman year was a success, save for a brutal biology course that dashed his pre-med dreams.

Hunter suffered a concussion in training camp prior to his sophomore season. The Forakers don’t know the details of the injury, but they know the injury left Hunter with a constant headache. Hunter had seen many teammates come back too early from concussions and wanted to avoid the issues that plagued them. He elected to retire from football. The sport had done its job and helped to set him on the path he so desired.

Once Hunter no longer needed to be a hulking linebacker, he became obsessed with his body image. He weighed himself several times a day and had strict discipline about what he ate.

After graduating with a double major in Environmental Science and Anthropology in 2014, Hunter stayed in Hanover to work for Dartmouth’s alumni relations department. He was in a place that gave him great joy over the last four years, but boredom and loneliness set in without the people who he had experienced his undergrad years with.

In February 2015, Hunter called home. He was in a rehab program for alcoholism at a Dartmouth Hitchcock hospital.

“It was surprising because he was so in control of everything,” Kim said. “He was so in control of his body.”

Tough Love

Hunter moved to Utah in August 2015 to work as an expert gearhead in Salt Lake City. There, he advised people on all the outdoorsman activities he grew up with.

He was closer to home but further from who his family had always known him to be. The Forakers sensed Hunter was intensely ashamed of his alcoholism. The boy who could not tell a lie was now lying to his parents’ faces.

He told his family he had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, and was on a myriad of medications. The Forakers don’t know how much of what Hunter told them was true. They do know Hunter spent much of his two years in Utah rotating between emergency room visits, rehab facilities, and detox centers.

In January 2017, Hunter called home to let the family know he was going to Durango, Colorado for a ski trip. They began to worry when calls and texts to Hunter went unanswered later in the weekend.

Kim arranged a wellness check from local police. Police found Hunter. He had the highest blood alcohol level they had ever seen. The Forakers learned Hunter went to Durango to drink himself to death. He survived the suicide attempt and was taken to a nearby hospital.

Following the attempt, the Forakers were at a loss for how to support Hunter. They sought professional counsel and were advised to implement a strategy of tough love with their son.

“It was the most difficult thing we have every done in our life,” Kim said. “Professionals were telling us on one hand to practice tough love and to not have any contact with him. But your heart is telling you to be a loving parent and to be there unconditionally.”

Hunter turned against his family and set out on his own back in Utah. For the first six months of 2017, Hunter was in a revolving door of sobriety, rehab, and halfway homes. Later, the Forakers found out Hunter experienced eruptions during this time like what they saw in high school.

“The Old hunter Again”

In July 2017, Hunter finally contacted the family. They visited him in Salt Lake City where Hunter was in sober living. For the moment, it seemed like Hunter had tackled his demons.

Hunter came back home to Colorado for a brief stay with his family in August 2017. He was clean. He wasn’t looking for scales to weigh himself. He had a new haircut and bought new clothes. He was happy. The Forakers were thrilled.

Hunter apologized to Kim for his suicide attempt in January. He promised he would never do that to her again.

“I vividly remember telling Hunter that I was so proud of him,” Jordan said. “Because I did not want to have to tell his nieces and nephews one day that they did not have an uncle if he circled back into his behavior.”

Hunter found a job in Dallas, near where Jordan was attending school in Lubbock. Jordan and Kim came to Dallas to help Hunter decorate his new apartment. They left Hunter with smiles on their faces and hope in their hearts.

“Hunter was confident and looking forward to a new start,” Kim said. “We hoped that a new environment would be exactly what he needed.”

“That Sickening Feeling”

Hunter’s first week at work in Dallas went great. He told his family he loved his job and was jockeying to see if he could get Jordan a position there upon her graduation from college.

He reached out to his family on Thursday, September 14. If there was a problem, the Forakers couldn’t tell by how Hunter sounded that night.

But texts and calls slowed and then eventually stopped, just as they had when Hunter was in Durango.

“We definitely had that sickening feeling that something was wrong,” Kim said.

Hunter didn’t show up to work on Friday and had started drinking again. On Monday, September 18, 2017, Hunter Foraker died by suicide. He was 25 years old.

The Forakers’ Message

The Dallas coroners’ autopsy on Hunter’s brain found evidence of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE). Perplexed, Kim Googled the degenerative brain disease. Within 30 minutes, she was on the phone with Lisa McHale, CLF’s Director of Legacy Family Relations.

Lisa guided Kim through the brain donation process at the UNITE Brain Bank. Months later, Brain Bank researchers validated the results of the initial autopsy. Hunter was diagnosed with Stage 2 (of 4) CTE.

The diagnosis helped explain Hunter’s erratic behavior, sleep disturbances, mood swings, and substance abuse. Learning Hunter had CTE set the Forakers off on their own research journey. They knew about concussions, but they learned how repetitive nonconcussive impacts catalyze the formation of CTE.

The potential dangers of nonconcussive impacts have changed the family’s view on youth tackle football. Hunter’s youth tackle football career had once brought the Forakers immense joy. Now, the family advocates for Flag Football Under 14.

“Please don’t let your youth play tackle football,” Kim said. “Hunter began playing football at the age of seven and stopped playing at 19. He would have sustained substantially fewer nonconcussive hits if we would have not placed him in youth football and waited to place him in football until his brain was fully formed.”

Kim didn’t know about CTE until after it was found in Hunter’s brain. The family hopes doctors working with former football players struggling with mental health symptoms or addiction consider CTE as a possible cause of their problems.

“Every time Hunter expressed he felt crazy, people brushed it off,” Jordan said. “When he started to drink heavily, it was the easy thing to say he was an alcoholic. When in reality, it was something much, much deeper that needs to be validated and explained.”

Three years after his death, the Forakers remember Hunter for his humility, kindness, and drive. They remember Hunter’s hugs, not his tackles.

“He gave the best bear hugs,” Kim said. “When he held your hand, you felt the love exude from his body.”

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. Learn the steps at BeThe1To.com.

If you are struggling to cope and would like some emotional support, call the 988 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.

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. Click here to support the CLF HelpLine.

Jason Franklin

 

It had been a tough four months. Something was going on with our only child Jason, and we did not understand it. Our happy, popular, life of the party, college football-playing kid was suddenly experiencing all sorts of “crazy” emotions and physical reactions. Rage, depression, paranoia, sleeplessness, and severe headaches. He was closing himself off from friends. What was causing this? What should we do? As the issues progressed, he moved away from us in Southern California to Arizona. But we did everything we could to continue to help him. He came home the weekend of June 30 and then again the weekend of July 4. On that second weekend, he seemed to be doing a little better. He even got a gap in his teeth fixed. Then on the night of July 14, 2018, just five days after he left to go back to Arizona, our doorbell rang. It was a police officer. She told us our son was found dead in his bathroom in Arizona. It was the end of our lives. Our only child was gone and with him, our future. A future without my son, without grandkids, without the dreams I had that were so deeply woven into the thoughts that swirled in my heart and mind.

The happiest, funniest person I knew

Jason Garrett Franklin was born May 6, 1992, in Los Angeles, California. He came into this world the happiest baby bringing joy to everyone around him. He didn’t cry much. He just laughed and smiled. Everyone told me how lucky I was.

Jason was the most social person I think I have ever met. He and I shared the gift of gab and the desire to entertain and engage everyone we met. Jason entertained everyone constantly, whether it was one on one or in crowds. He had his goofy impressions, crazy dance moves, amazing stories, and hysterical high-pitched laughs.

His vice principal at Chaminade College Preparatory School in Los Angeles told a story about how whenever he would have a prospective family walking with him around Chaminade, he would seek Jason out. Jason would introduce himself and spend the next several minutes telling them about the school, the teachers, the students, you name it. I am sure he convinced many a family to bring their children there. He could truly talk to anyone about anything.

Sports and football

Jason loved sports. He played so many, but baseball and football were his favorites.

He played baseball from the age of two through 18. Like everything else Jason did, he jumped right in to T-ball. He had no shyness at all. He walked up to the four and five-year-old’s in the program and introduced himself. In the outfield Jason would jump up and down with the same joy and happiness he maintained throughout his life.

During Jason’s final year of youth baseball, his 13 year-old all-star team made it to the Pony World Series before losing 1-0 to Puerto Rico in the finale. Jason was crowned the World Series batting champion.

In high school, Jason played for the Chaminade Eagles baseball team. He loved his teammates and had the greatest time in the dugout motivating and inspiring them.

Baseball was great, but Jason fell in love with football. He believed it was a better fit for his personality. He loved the camaraderie, the importance of working together as a team and the thrill of making big plays. I loved to watch him play, but I was always afraid he would get hurt.

Jason had such joy and excitement on the field. He’d boisterously rejoice every time he made a big play. Half the time he would get warnings by officials to manage his celebrations, but light reactions were not in his nature. Jason’s high school teammates loved his halftime speeches. Only they know what he said, but I am sure he was motivational and made everyone smile in the face of any second half adversity.

Jason received scholarship offers from small schools to play football, but he wanted to be a part of something bigger. He chose to walk on at Arizona State University after being contacted by a linebackers coach. We supported his decision as we saw how much it meant to him to be a Sun Devil and play in the Pac-12. It was his dream come true.

At ASU, Jason’s personality was on full display. His natural charm landed him roles in front of the camera as a host and entertainer with shows such as “Franklin Knows Best.” He created his own blogs, “Pregame at Franklins” and “Excuse My Moderation” where he discussed his opinions on all sorts of subjects. “Franklin Knows Best” was my favorite. It was a feature show on NBC 12 Sports in Phoenix. It was Jason at his best, coaching a girls’ powder-puff football team, interviewing kickball players, trying out for the Phoenix Mercury practice squad, riding in a supped-up car on a track, dressing up and throwing axes at the renaissance fair. The station put him in many bizarre situations, and he was hysterical every time. You can see examples of Jason’s work at www.jasonfranklin55.com.

At ASU, Jason was a scout player for much of his career. Most scout players quit because they get inferior equipment, they aren’t respected by the coaches, and they take abuse with little shot at playing time. But Jason did not quit. Jason knew his job was to make the team better. There was no glory in it for him. It was about his team. Of course, Jason was not completely selfless. He did yearn to be recognized for his efforts. He was ecstatic when he earned a scholarship from ASU in his junior season.

“There are no words that I can explain. All the work we have put in. All the hours. Some of these guys, they get their school paid for. We did it voluntarily because we love this game,” said Jason at the time. “To be a walk-on on this team for as long as we have, you got to look at it as a game and you got to love this game or else you won’t survive.”

Our last football memory with Jason came at Jason’s last ASU football banquet following his final season. During the banquet, the various MVP’s were named. Then the Glen Hawkins Award for Scout Player of the Year was announced. We could tell from the speech that the award winner was going to be Jason and our family became extremely excited. When they named Jason as the winner, we stood up and cheered and then to our utter amazement we saw the entire ASU football team stand up and cheer more for Jason than they had for any other player that night. It was evident how my son was beloved and respected by his teammates.

The injuries

Jason was lucky with injuries in his youth and high school football career. That luck changed in college.

Jason suffered one concussion during his first couple of years at ASU. Then in August 2014, just after receiving his scholarship, Jason suffered a severe concussion. At the time, a company named TGen had been placing sensors in football helmets to track the impact of concussions through blood and urine analysis. After Jason’s concussion, he was told it had been the worst hit they had recorded. They also noted his blood and urine counts were the highest they had seen in any athlete after a concussion.

Jason was taken out of play for about a week. A week later, he was put back in and almost immediately sustained another concussion. We’ll never know if this was really a new concussion or further damage associated with the original concussion. He was taken out again for a couple of weeks. Once again, right after he was put back in, he sustained a third concussion. After this last concussion, he was really hurting. He was taken out of play for about a month.

After the third concussion, I was concerned the team should not let him play again and he went to see his team neurologist. The team neurologist indicated Jason had passed all the tests and was clear to play. The decision was up to Jason. Of course, Jason wanted to play and so it was. He played two more seasons after that. To this day, I believe the doctor and coaches should have stopped Jason from playing again.

Jason’s friends noted his personality changed for about six months after this series of concussions. In fact, Jason also noted this in a Cronkite School News documentary and in an ESPN special on concussions.

Jason’s last four months

It was Easter Sunday 2018 when we first really noticed an issue. We took Jason to brunch. He hardly ate anything. He seemed very agitated. Our conversations with him over the next several weeks were very difficult.

Then on April 29, things seemed to completely go off the rails. We were going to Jason’s house in Arizona to meet him for lunch. When we arrived, we discovered he left the house through a window in the bathroom. He did not arrive back home until about 6 p.m.

We came back when we heard he was home. We found multiple neighbors standing outside around the house. Jason came running out of the house telling me his roommate had a gun and was trying to kill him. The police were called. They believed Jason was suffering from some sort of psychotic episode and suggested we take Jason to the hospital immediately. We tried to persuade him but he refused to seek help.

We took Jason back to our house in California. He ate a little and then went to sleep. Not too long afterwards, Jason woke up and started saying his dad was going to kill him. He said he heard us talking. He started to get more and more agitated. He was enraged and telling us he would kill us first so we couldn’t kill him. We kept telling him that we loved him and would never hurt him. Given Jason’s size and strength, I knew we could be at risk, so, I dialed 911. The police talked to Jason and decided to put him on a 5150 hold, which is a three-day hold to ensure a person is not violent or suicidal.

The day after Jason was released from the hold he decided to go back to Arizona. I tried to stop him, but he was determined to go.

About three weeks after Jason returned to Arizona, he began having headaches and started hearing siren-like sounds in his head. He went to the hospital, but doctors could not detect any issues.

In early June 2018, we noticed Jason was spending less and less time on social media and stopped all of his blogging and video activities. He was also not returning calls to his old producer who was trying to get him to start the “Franklin Knows Best” segments again. He stopped responding to e-mails. He missed one of his best friend’s weddings. We talked with him consistently during this time and even drove to Arizona a few times. But he continued to say he was OK.

“I’m just a little tired,” he’d tell us.

Our concern grew as we saw his agitation and anger level growing. Jason was seeing a psychiatrist, but the psychiatrist said he saw no signs of mental issues other than normal growth concerns for Jason’s age.

Jason returned home to California for both the weekend of June 30 and over the Fourth of July weekend. He seemed more withdrawn than ever and would get lost in long, blank stares. He was not sleeping well. He was having memory problems. He had no money and couldn’t remember how to get more money out of his bank account. He would go for long walks to try and calm his head.

He returned back to Arizona on July 9. A couple of days later he cancelled a date with a girl via an odd, nonsensical text. On the evening of July 13 he went walking at 11:00 p.m. and did not return until sometime the next morning on July 14. After returning, his roommates said he seemed fine. Both of them left the house and sometime after they left, Jason took his life. According to the toxicology report, Jason had no drugs or alcohol in his system at the time of his death.

The diagnosis

After Jason passed away the coroner in Arizona, who was familiar with Jason’s history, recommended we donate Jason’s brain to Boston University to be analyzed for Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE). It was at that point that everything started making a little sense. Could this have all been a result of injuries he sustained playing football?

Dr. Ann McKee, Director of the UNITE Brain Bank, performed the brain pathology analysis. She found Jason was suffering from Stage 2 (of 4) CTE with nine CTE lesions throughout multiple parts of his brain.

When Dr. McKee did the initial Coronal dissection, she noted Jason had something called a Cavum Septum Pellucidum (CSP). It had deteriorated along with the space present between the two sides of his brain. CSP is one of the distinguishing features of individuals displaying symptoms of CTE.

The CTE damage was mostly in the frontal lobes of the brain that control impulse, judgement, violence, aggressive behavior, depression, and suicidality. Dr. McKee indicated the disease was advanced and shocking for a 26 year old. The pathology report showed the nine CTE lesions in Jason’s brain were easy to see and were found in the motor cortex, superior frontal cortex, inferior frontal cortex and dorsal and lateral frontal cortex. Dr. McKee noted that Jason had probably been suffering for longer than we were aware.

Football is now a conundrum for me. We have always loved to watch the sport. But, given that football was a major contributor in my son’s death, how can I still love and watch this game?

Jason loved the sport of football from the core of his being and he would be devastated if he found me trying to do things to end the sport. So, as I begin my search for a new purpose in life, I have to keep in mind both what my son would have wanted me to do against my own feelings about the game and its impact on our family. I am certain that I will work to seek changes in football, especially by advocating for youth athletes to play flag football instead of tackle football. I will also support those who are trying to better understand, diagnose and treat CTE and, of course, I want to help further enhance concussion protocols, hit counts, treatment of scout players, and advocate for better rules regarding forcing medical retirements.

I vow to do all of this, but to work to eliminate football entirely, that I cannot do. It would break my son’s heart.

A way to move forward – I Got You Day

Jason lived his life trying to make a positive difference to everyone he met. His vibrant personality allowed him to command every room he was in. He loved people and was always there for his friends and family.

It was important for us to honor Jason’s life through positivity. One of Jason’s favorite sayings was “I Got You.” He used it all the time for so many positive reasons. In honor of Jason, we decided to celebrate his birthday of May 6 each year as “I Got You” days. Each May 6, we will spend the day trying to help others and trying to show them that there are people out there who “got them” and are there to help get them through their day.

Our first “I Got You” day was in 2019. Our family delivered clothes, food, personal care items and toys to homeless shelters, to homeless people we encountered on the streets, to animal shelters, to food banks and to children’s hospitals. We asked our friends and family to help spread the “I Got You” spirit and they delivered beyond our expectations. We will continue “I Got You” day every year and promise it will grow and grow.

Jason, dude, I will miss you and love you for the rest of my life. I promise to keep your spirit alive until we are reunited. Just know, “I Got You.”

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 988 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 www.crisischat.org.

Luke Frey

As a child, Luke loved anything that was blue, and it just so happened his favorite animal was a lion. One Sunday while watching football with the family he discovered the Detroit Lions and became enamored with Barry Sanders and the game of football. He spent the rest of his life dedicated to the game, and he told everyone he “bled Honolulu Blue.”

Luke was a great all-around athlete from a young age, playing baseball, soccer, basketball, ice and street hockey, running track, and of course football. He played wide receiver, tight end, safety, and wherever else the coaches needed him. Later in his career, he focused on kicking. He was a four-year Varsity player for the Fair Lawn High School Cutters, and he went on to join the team at Pace University, where his football career ended.

During his life Luke suffered numerous injuries, and a majority of them were to his head. He was eight years old when he suffered his first concussion while rollerblading. The next two happened during junior football, the second of which involved him being taken off the field in an ambulance. Two more concussions came in high school, the first by sliding in a high school baseball game and another from a hard hit during a football game. His final concussion took place in college and ended his playing career for good. When he lost football, he started to lose himself.

This could not have come at a worse time. The loss of football was followed by the loss of our father, a man of many hats. Among his roles were the Superintendent of Parks and Recreation, a Board of Education member, basketball and baseball coach, and his favorite role: dad. Our dad always found ways to give back to the community and his family. Losing a parent is hard enough, but when you lose someone who believes in all the potential you have in this world and who you idolize more than anything, you succumb to the negatives in life. Luke sunk into a depression, left school, and dealt with frequent headaches and the frustrations from short-term memory loss.

After losing himself and the opportunity to play the sport he loved so much, Luke turned to coaching. He volunteered to coach a Pee Wee football team in his hometown’s football association. This brought a light to Luke’s eyes we hadn’t seen since he had to give up playing the game himself. Luke chose to coach because he knew if he could not play, the next best thing would be to educate the younger generations about a game that meant so much to him. Not only did Luke coach these kids, they would reach out to him during the offseason just so they could get a workout in or spend time with him at the fields. When Luke stopped being involved in the town’s football association, he began to lose himself a bit more.

Luke was always the happy-go-lucky, funny, charming, class clown with a heart of gold. He was liked by everyone and would give you his last dollar. He was full of love and laughter and brought joy to those around him. He was both a brother and best friend to his three sisters and did everything with his family.

But over time, he became more depressed and angry. He had difficulties comprehending what he was reading and would have to reread a paragraph multiple times. He would have to rewind the same scene on the TV over and over until he could move on to the next. He could go from being calm to punching a wall within seconds when something suddenly set him off.

This led him down a dark path in which he chose to self-medicate to ease his headaches, help him sleep, and stop the voices he was hearing that told him he was worthless. Self-medicating led him to harder drug use and eventually he started sleeping all day, couldn’t hold a job, and broke relationships with those closest to him. He finally hit rock bottom and went to rehab. He cleaned himself up for a few years and then relapsed before going back and getting sober.

Luke then met his amazing fiancé Emily and became a dad to Meadow. Meadow became his reason for living and he was his happiest being a dad, even if it was for a short time.

Even when he was happy, Luke told us all that there was something wrong with him. Always a football fan and reading every article and watching any documentary that pertained to the sport, he learned about CTE and researched it further. He felt he had some of the symptoms and was frightened for his future. He always made it known to his family that he knew he was not long for this life and that if something should happen to him, he wanted to donate his brain tissue for CTE research. He wanted to be a part of the research, to help find a way to show its effects, to help prevent it, to help find treatments, and most importantly to help those who love sports be able to play them safely.

During his final days, our family discussed his wishes and called Boston University to see what steps needed to be taken before we lost him. I like to believe that donating to the UNITE Brain Bank was Luke’s last wish and it was my job to help him achieve it. On January 3, 2019, Luke passed away of a stroke. He was 31 years old.

Thirteen months after his death, we learned Luke was diagnosed with Stage 1 (of 4) CTE. While there are still many questions and possibilities about whether or not his diagnosis helped contribute to his mental health issues, his drug use and his death, it is reassuring to know there was something that may have changed him from the boy we knew. I felt a huge relief and closure for Luke, knowing that he was right, that he knew his body and knew this could be why he chose to donate, and that he wanted his legacy to be one that could help bring awareness to young athletes like himself.

We hope if anyone takes anything out of Luke’s story it’s to know how much he loved his friends, football, and his family with everything he had. We also want others to not give up on loved ones who’ve suffered from concussions and head trauma. They are invisible injuries with effects that are hard to quantify. We do not know what they are going through mentally, how they’re thinking, how they’re feeling, or what type of pain they are suffering from. We need to stop pushing them to get back to their sports before they are healed enough to do so. Concussions aren’t to be taken lightly. What should matter is the health of each athlete.

-Written by Katie Frey (sister) on behalf of Joan Frey (mother), Maggie Quinn (sister), Kasey Frey (sister), Emily Costello (fiancé) and Meadow Frey (daughter)

Luke also leaves behind his nephew River Frey and nieces Peyton Quinn and Reese Pinsdorf, brother in laws John Quinn and William Pinsdorf, and his Aunt and Uncle Kathleen and Peter Drozd.

He was predeceased by his father George Frey, and a local scholarship is given each year in their honor for young athletes who have dedicated their time to coaching, working, or volunteering for the community.

George and Luke Frey Memorial Scholarship
28-06 Madison Terr
Fair Lawn, NJ 07410

 

Matthew Garver, DVM

Dr. Matthew Garver was a star athlete at Wayne Community High School in Iowa. He participated in the Shrine Bowl and went on to play college football at Kansas State University where he graduated in 1990 with a doctorate in veterinary medicine. As an offensive lineman, he faced repeated head trauma on the field at every practice and game.

Dr. Garver was determined and kind. He was a leader in his community and an amazing dad. He built his veterinary clinic from the ground up and made it a flourishing practice. Often, it seemed as though there was nothing that he could not accomplish.

But later in life, Dr. Garver began experiencing early symptoms of CTE, including erratic emotions, impulsive decision-making, and eventually memory loss. After his death in 2021 at the age of 55, he was diagnosed with stage 2 Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE) at Boston University’s CTE Center.

Dr. Garver’s family’s wish is that his story brings attention to the disease and makes others aware they are not alone.

Matt Gee

Matt Gee won. Habitually.

He set national records in high school. He won two Rose Bowls in college. He married the girl of his dreams. He ran a successful business. He once entered a raffle to win a car at his son’s high school football game and guaranteed his wife he would win the prize. And he did.

As a kid in small town Arkansas City, Kansas, Matt dominated in whatever he tried. He played both ways as a fullback and linebacker on the football team. He wrestled. He played varsity basketball and baseball. In 1987, he threw the javelin a nation-leading 243 feet and one inch.

A five-star talent, Matt intended to stay close to home to play for college football powerhouse Oklahoma University. But on a track invitational at the USC’s Memorial Coliseum, the USC football coaching staff approached Matt about playing football and throwing javelin there. He was hooked and enrolled at USC in the fall of 1987.

Matt thrived in Los Angeles. He was one of two freshmen to make USC’s travelling roster for the Trojans’ 1988 Rose Bowl team. The other was USC’s wunderkind freshman quarterback Todd Marinovich.

Matt had a magnetic personality and did just as well socially at USC as he did in football.

“He would walk into a room and it would be like Norm on Cheers,” Alana Gee, his eventual wife said.

Matt’s sophomore season ended with another Rose Bowl victory for the Trojans. He met Alana over homecoming weekend that year.

“I instantly liked him,” Alana said. “He was kind. He was sweet. He was just genuine.”

Alana had graduated from USC the previous year and was weary of dating someone five years her junior. But Matt’s persistence won out and the two were inseparable from then on.

Matt was named one of USC’s captains his senior season in 1991. He led the team in tackles and had his eyes set on playing in the NFL. But an injury late in the season held him out of invitational games and lowered his draft stock. He made camp with the Los Angeles Raiders but was one of the team’s last cuts.

He lost his shot in the NFL. But even when Matt Gee lost, he kept winning. An insurance agent recruited Matt and several other college football players to work for him out of college. Matt adjusted to a new industry as easily as he did everything else in life.

“He looked at business as a competition,” Alana said. “He was a disciplined leader and hard worker.”

Matt’s success led him to start Matthew Gee & Associates, his own insurance agency in Simi Valley, California, in 1993. He and Alana married the same year. Their son Tucker was born in 1994, then Tanner in 1996, and Malia in 2000.

The business flourished but there was always enough time to pour his heart into his kids’ activities. Coach Gee made sure everybody played, had fun, and learned their sports’ fundamentals. He was known to wager buzzing his hair off if the team could accomplish a major goal.

Tucker was born with Asperger syndrome and had different interests than the rest of the family. Matt adapted and took Tucker on trips to museums across the country.

Matt and Alana were co-pilots in marriage. They completed each other’s sentences. Alana imagined a future with Matt taking Tucker around the world and enjoying life as grandparents.

“I would say to myself, ‘I can’t believe I’m living this life. I’m so fortunate,’” Alana said. “Because he was such a good man.”

Matt Gee rode a remarkable winning streak for his first 44 years of life. But he was about to enter a fight he had already lost.

He started playing tackle football when he was in third grade. Matt made 210 career tackles at USC, including 97 in his senior season.

Alana remembers Matt coming home from practice at USC often detailing how he got his “bell rung” but felt like he needed to fake being alright to maintain his standing on USC’s loaded depth chart.

On May 2, 2012, Matt and Alana were at breakfast in Simi Valley. His phone was blowing up. Junior Seau, Matt’s teammate for two seasons at USC, and a family friend of Alana’s, had died by suicide. The news rocked Matt in a way few things ever had.

Neither of them could understand. What happened to the sweet, spirted Seau they knew?

In January 2013, Seau’s family announced he had been diagnosed with CTE. Around that time, Gee slowly became a stranger to his family. He was now irritable, angry, and prone emotional outbursts.

For their first 25 years together, Matt and Alana were peas in a pod. Now, Alana’s mere presence in a room could set Matt off.

Alana had firsthand experience with anxiety through managing Tucker’s challenges with Asperger’s. She could not believe it when easygoing Matt was now noticeably anxious.

“I’m not right,” he often said to Alana.

His personality changes coincided with declining physical health. He was born with Klippel-Trenaunay Syndrome which gave him a large port-wine stain birthmark on his left arm and caused issues with his circulation.

During this time Matt became increasingly impulsive. He could no longer control how much he ate or drank. The increased consumption exacerbated his many afflictions.

Matt’s health problems were compounding on him and confounding to Alana.

“What really got me was he could do anything he put his mind to,” Alana said. “If he wanted to be the best athlete, he was the best athlete. If he wanted to be the most successful businessman, he could do that. But he couldn’t stop the drinking.”

One year, Matt was in the hospital for a total of 152 days. Giving up on Matt was never an option, but with three children in three different schools, Alana needed help. She hired someone to stay with Matt 24/7 and relied on her family to help with the children.

Matt’s cognition was slipping too. He struggled remembering things and appeared delusional at times. Initially, Alana rejected the notion that Matt’s severe downturn could be related to CTE. CTE can only be diagnosed after death and Alana was focused on finding more immediate solutions.

“I was always the fixer,” Alana said. “I couldn’t help him because I didn’t know what was going on. It was horrible.”

Around 2017, Matt started to show progress. His drinking was under control and he was regularly going to therapy. But on days where he appeared out of sorts, Alana would test Matt to see if he had been drinking. He was completely sober every time.

In December 2018, Alana followed through on a longstanding promise to take Tanner skiing. This would mean leaving Matt alone for the first time in years – a daunting proposition, but he had been sober and in good physical health of late. While she was away on the three-day trip, Alana received a call from Malia that something was off with her father. Before Alana could make it back to Simi Valley, Matt Gee died in his sleep on December 31, 2018. He was 49 years old.

Coroners found Matt had alcohol in his blood when he died. When they called Alana and asked to release his body, she demanded his brain be studied for CTE at the UNITE Brain Bank.

In addition to Junior Seau, two of Matt’s USC linebacker brethren and dear friends died in their 40’s. Their brains were not studied for CTE, but Alana saw an opportunity with Matt’s brain to provide answers for not just her tragedy but others as well.

“I know that’s what Matt would have wanted me to do because he was such a helpful, loving guy,” Alana said.

In March 2020, Brain Bank researchers told Alana that Matt was diagnosed with Stage II-III (of IV) CTE.

“I was crying so hard I couldn’t breathe,” Alana said. “It was like five years of relief after knowing in my heart that wasn’t him.”

The news also relieved the Gee children, who now had an explanation for what happened to the devoted father they grew up with. The symptoms of CTE help explain the 180-degree turn Matt’s cognition, behavior, and mood took in his last five years.

Two years after Matt’s death, Alana takes solace knowing she left no stone unturned trying to support Matt’s health. Looking to the future, she has a set of wishes to protect other families from experiencing what her family endured.

Chief among them is a way to identify CTE in living people. Diagnosing patients in life would open the door for research on treatments and a cure for the degenerative brain disease.

As researchers work toward a diagnosis, her second wish is for a protocol for physicians to manage the symptoms former contact sport athletes may experience at every stage of the disease if they do in fact have CTE. If Matt’s doctors considered his possible CTE from the beginning, they could have been better equipped to manage his impulsivity and addiction.

Alana took over Gee & Associates. As hard as she fought for him in life, she now works diligently to preserve Matt’s legacy through the agency he built and by sharing who he was before and after symptoms of CTE interrupted his life.

“Matt’s good was beyond good,” Alana said. “There are a lot of guys out there with CTE that are being blamed for a lot of things. They need vindication.”

After Matt’s diagnosis, Alana spoke to Sports Illustrated for a story on Matt and other fallen USC linebackers in the hopes her tragedy would help someone else. You can read that story here.

Bill Geisdorf

William “Bill” Geisdorf III came home from his second straight day of testing at the Sarasota Memory Clinic. He was completely dejected. Bill was a retired history teacher known for his rigorous current events assignments but was now struggling to complete the alphabet. He was once the life of the party but now was withdrawing from social situations because he couldn’t communicate like he once could. The man who dreamed of captaining his own fishing boats was now lost at sea.

“I felt like we were being robbed,” his widow, Donna Geisdorf said. “Our happily ever after was not to be.”

Bill and Donna attended Drexel University in Philadelphia in the 1970’s after Bill spent a year at Valley Forge Military Academy. Bill played football for the Dragons. Before they met, Donna couldn’t help but notice his good looks and cool demeanor from afar.

“He was just the person you wanted to be around,” Donna said.

Donna and Bill were introduced through mutual friends on spring break in Miami Beach in 1971. They were inseparable ever since.

They shared a love for live music and saw countless shows in Philadelphia. They went to the requisite number of Grateful Dead shows to earn “Deadhead” status. Among their many favorite concerts were Crosby, Stills & Nash, Jimmy Buffett, James Taylor, and several of Bill’s favorite Motown groups.

Donna never cared for football, but she took notice whenever the sport injured Bill. She remembers a couple of Bill’s concussions, including one where he woke up in the hospital afterwards.

The two married in 1975 and moved to a rural section of Sarasota, Florida, in 1977. They had three children together, William “Will” Carl IV, Rachel, and Emma.

Bill was a world history teacher and a football coach, first at Cardinal Mooney High School, then at Riverview High School in Sarasota. Students adored Mr. Geisdorf for his lessons, classroom theatrics, and his readily available life advice. Players loved him for his ability to command authority without ever being mean or condescending.

Donna describes Bill as a wonderful father who had unique relationships with each child. He loved wrestling and playing with Rachel, who was born with Down Syndrome. He coached her Special Olympics basketball teams as passionately as he coached his high schoolers.

“His family was his whole world, the center of his universe,” longtime friend Con Nicholas said about Bill. “He was such an outstanding husband and father.”

Bill and Donna retired simultaneously after 33 years of teaching in 2010. In 1996, Bill obtained his captain’s license. Born in Ocean City, New Jersey, he frequently fished with his father and had a lifelong affinity for the sea. He dreamed of spending some of his retirement as a charter fisherman.

“Land sucks,” he would often joke to whoever shared a boat with him as they returned from a day of fishing.

But a year after Bill left the classroom, he began repeating the same questions to Donna multiple times a day. The repetition was infrequent at first and Donna thought little of it. But Bill’s confusion soon crossed the point of concern.

During a doctor’s appointment, Donna handed Bill a pen to sign a form. He looked down at the paper and then back at Donna. He shook his head. He couldn’t remember how to write his name.

“That was shocking for me,” Donna said. “I can remember feeling devastated for him, for both of us.”

After some researching, Will thought football may have something to do with his father’s rapid decline. Bill thought the same while he was still cogent enough to research CTE. He raised the possibility of having CTE to Donna in the early 2010’s.

Losing parts of Bill saddened and angered Donna. Knowing Bill’s problems were potentially due to repetitive head impacts from football only increased her frustration.

“He was checking all the boxes for CTE the more I read about it,” Donna said.

Donna quickly and unexpectedly became Bill’s caretaker. She learned plenty of “hacks,” as she calls them, for managing life with Bill. She learned not to argue with him. She learned the importance of a short leash. Through an Alzheimer’s Disease support group, she learned for instance that on trips to see her family in upstate New York, she needed to wait to use the restroom until she was on the plane with Bill. Telling Bill to wait outside the terminal restroom may have proved disastrous.

They took walks at Benderson Park by their home in Sarasota. There, Bill’s love of the ocean came through when he would fill his pockets with the shells that lined the park’s walking path.

They visited Rachel at work at Goodwill. Donna always allowed Bill to buy one thing whenever they went. Eventually, he began choosing picture frames. In all their time together, Donna never knew Bill to like arts and crafts. But suddenly, he was ornately gluing his collected shells to the picture frames from Goodwill.

Despite having lost so many of his faculties, Donna saw a different Bill whenever he worked on the frames. He loved gifting the frames to his friends, family, and doctors. Donna thinks he felt fulfilled by creating an attractive product for others and that the crafting improved the quality of his life.

“Creating these beautiful frames was comforting to him,” Donna said. “He would just relax and let go with it.”

But the frames became less and less tidy as time went on. Bill eventually lost the concept of what a frame was for when he glued shells over the glass.

Bill was diagnosed with dementia when he was just 62 years old. No longer able to care for him, Donna had to move him into a memory care facility nearby. He soon earned a reputation for running around the facility’s square concourse. He possessed much more physicality than most of the other residents who were 20-30 years older than him. Bill’s physicality and increased agitation eventually became problematic and resulted in injury to other residents. After 11 months, the facility asked Donna to find a better fit for Bill.

By the time he moved in to his second facility, Bill had lost most of his communication skills, causing his nurse to put him on hospice care. For most of his life, Bill was a sturdy 6’0” and 190 pounds. By the time he was at his second facility he was down to just 120 pounds.

He was rapidly deteriorating in every capacity, but the right song could bring a glimpse of the old Bill out again. Donna ensured Bill’s iPod was playing 24/7 at both facilities. Hearing The Temptations, The Four Tops, Buffett, or any of his old favorites could move Bill to dance, as best he could, much to the delight of his nurses.

Bill died on April 22, 2019. He was 69 years old. After his death, Donna arranged to follow through on Bill’s inquiry about his own CTE by donating his brain to the UNITE Brain Bank.

Dr. Ann McKee conducted the pathology report on Bill’s brain. Dr. McKee told Donna that Bill’s brain had undergone tremendous atrophy. The severely reduced size of Bill’s brain indicated to Dr. McKee that Bill was severely impaired when he died. Dr. McKee diagnosed Bill with Stage IV (of IV) CTE, severe Alzheimer’s, and some developing Lewy Bodies that may have affected his mobility.

Given the concurrent diagnoses, Donna asked Dr. McKee an important question. If not for football, would Bill have developed Alzheimer’s Disease?

While Dr. McKee couldn’t definitively answer the question, she informed Donna how CTE can often open the door for other neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimer’s.

Will spoke at his father’s funeral to an audience that included many of Bill’s former players, teammates, and coaching buddies. Donna was proud of him for offering a referendum on youth tackle football and for sharing the horrors of his dad’s twilight years.

“If your kids insist on playing high risk sports like football,” Will said in his eulogy. “At least make them wait until high school.”

“I know it was hard for a lot of them to hear,” Donna said. “A lot of them are thinking, ‘Oh, wow. It happened to this guy. It could happen to me.’”

Bill loved football. But after he learned about CTE, Donna believes he would have pushed children towards individual sports and away from tackle football until they were old enough. Will’s son and Donna’s only grandchild is six years old and is quite the golfer.

She keeps in close contact with many of the women whom she attended Alzheimer’s support groups with when Bill was alive. Like Donna, many of them are now widows. Donna knows support groups aren’t for everyone but strongly recommends them to anyone whose partner is suffering from possible CTE.

“I really enjoyed going to support groups,” Donna said. “Because I always came away with a new perspective or I would come away feeling like I had helped somebody else.”

Donna still lives on the land she and Bill purchased in 1977 and in the community where Bill was a fixture. Frequently, a cashier will take a second look at her credit card before handing it back to her.

They ask if she’s related to the Mr. Geisdorf.