Stories

Steve Wallace

By Brian Wallace, Steve's son

Steve Wallace began playing football starting at age 12 and into college until a significant back injury his junior year at the University of Utah forced him to retire from the sport. His empathy, larger than life personality, and ability to connect with people led him to success in the software sales industry. In his mid to late 50s, Steve developed issues with memory and speech. He passed away on March 9, 2021, at the age of 76. Researchers at the UNITE Brain Bank later diagnosed him with CTE, along with other neurological disorders.

Last month would have been my dad’s 80th birthday. I miss him more than I can put into words. While I don’t miss the dementia, the decline, or the painful way his life ended, I deeply miss the man he was. He was my biggest fan and a huge source of my strength.

For years, my parents searched tirelessly for answers about his health. My dad, once the embodiment of strength and joy, began to slip away, leaving us confused and heartbroken. It started in 2015 with small signs: forgetfulness, confusion, and moments of anger. Doctors offered guesses such as Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, maybe Lewy body dementia. None of it felt certain.

I remember sitting with them in a neurologist’s office in April 2018, grasping for answers. Desperation gave me the courage to ask a question I had been holding back: “Could this be because he played football for so many years?” The doctor said she didn’t know. But she suggested something unexpected: “Steve, you’re special. When you pass, you should donate your brain to science so we can learn more.”

My dad smiled at the thought but by then, his mind was already slipping. I don’t think he fully understood. He was disappearing, bit by bit.

Football was his first love. Growing up in Seattle, he excelled in wrestling and football, eventually playing under John Elway’s father at Gray’s Harbor Junior College before transferring to the University of Utah. His career ended after a severe back injury, but his love for the game never wavered. He lived for hard tackles and big hits, especially as a fullback. Watching games together, I could see the pride in his eyes when players collided. It reminded him of his own glory days.

(Steve Wallace #31 Gray’s Harbor Junior College 1964)

But that love came at a cost. The hits he celebrated were likely the same ones that stole him from us.

Off the field, my dad built a life full of joy, hard work, and love. He was a police officer turned software sales executive, someone who could light up a room and make anyone feel included. He was always there for me. He came to every game and was present for every big milestone. He wasn’t perfect; his temper and perfectionism often loomed large. But he cared deeply about his family and those around him. I carry his empathy and determination with me every day.

By 2018, everything had changed. At my birthday gathering, he sat quietly, unable to follow conversations. I could see it in his eyes. He wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. It was devastating. On a later visit in August of 2019, he didn’t recognize me. He lashed out and took a swing at me. He was confused and scared, as I pleaded with him to remember who I was. That moment broke something in me. The man who had always been my anchor was slipping away for good.

In December 2020, after many falls and fire department visits to the home, my mom made the heart-wrenching decision to move him into a memory care facility. By then, COVID had stolen what little time we had left together. When he passed in March 2021, I wasn’t there to say goodbye.

Amid the heartbreak, my mom and I worked to honor his final wish: donating his brain to science. The Concussion Legacy Foundation (CLF) stepped in when other organizations couldn’t, connecting us to the UNITE Brain Bank and Boston University’s groundbreaking CTE research team. Their guidance made the impossible feel manageable.

On March 8, 2021, I reached out to CLF’s founder Chris Nowinski via a LinkedIn message. To my amazement, he replied. By noon on March 9, all the arrangements were made. My dad passed away later that afternoon. Knowing that his death would help others brought us a measure of peace. I am forever grateful to Chris for the quick reply!

Eight months and two family interviews later, we received the results of his study. My dad’s brain showed advanced Alzheimer’s, Lewy body dementia, and chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE). This is the now well-known degenerative brain disease caused by repetitive head trauma. The diagnosis explained so much: his temper, depression, and cognitive decline. CTE wasn’t even a term we knew growing up, but it had shaped so much of his life, and ours.

CLF gave us answers and a purpose. They continue to lead the charge in understanding and preventing CTE. Their research has shown that just one year of tackle football before age 12 increases the risk of CTE by 30%. This is not just an NFL or college problem.

My dad understood the dangers, which is why he didn’t let me play until I was 14. I’m grateful for that decision. Today, I advocate for flag football as a safer alternative for kids. Tackle can wait.

My children, thankfully, have chosen different paths. My son has no interest in football and thrives in baseball and running cross country. My daughter plays soccer and though I worry about its physicality, recent rule changes such as banning headers for kids under 12 gives me hope. These changes are a direct result of CLF’s work.

As I watch my kids play sports, I often feel my dad’s absence. He would have been the loudest voice on the sidelines, beaming with pride. I take comfort in knowing that his legacy lives on. Not just in my family but in the critical research that will protect future athletes and their families from the devastation of CTE.

If our story resonates with you, I encourage you to think twice about enrolling your kids in contact sports. Talk to them about the risks and dangers we know about but continue to ignore or not give the attention it deserves.

CLF is doing lifesaving work, and I hope my dad’s story inspires others to support their mission. Together, we can honor the past while building a safer future in contact sports.