http://www.tampabay.com/
Monday, September 5, 2011
"Whenever I want to feel good, I think of Lee Roy Selmon," said the late John McKay, longtime coach of the Buccaneers
Today, Tampa Bay is not as kind as it was. It is not as gracious. It is not as decent. The best of us has been taken way. Lee Roy Selmon, a legend of a man with the demeanor of a common man, has died. All of the lives he touched, all of the people he enriched, mourn his passing. It is too sad for words, and it is too soon for reason. As a community, Tampa Bay was not yet done with Lee Roy. We needed to hear his soft voice, and to be comforted by his immense presence, for a while longer. He was only 56, and we needed to know he was there, and that he made the rest of us better, for years to come. Lee Roy is gone. A giant has fallen. And now, who is going to help to fill in the crater?
Josh?
Evan?
Steven?
Anyone?
The wounds are fresh, and the pain is deep. Since Friday, since the whispers of his death swept across Tampa Bay, most of us had braced for the worst. And still, it seems sudden and grim and final. He is gone, and much of us has gone with him. As an area, we are a little less than we were. Whoever can fill this void?
Gerald?
David?
Victor?
For the athletes of Tampa Bay, this should become a shared challenge. A good man has gone, and they should strive to carry the torch. One by one, they should realize they have a responsibility to help meet the standard that Selmon left behind. Oh, does Tampa Bay need it.
Above all else, the legacy of Selmon was in the consistency of his kindness. He never seemed to have a bad day, even a bad moment. He was a star who didn't act as if he were a star, a celebrity who never accepted the role. Tampa Bay loved him for that. How could it not?
On the day after his death, there are a thousand stories about encounters with Lee Roy being told across Tampa Bay, and they all sound the same. Lee Roy shook a lot of hands over the years, and his voice remained quiet, and his smile was never far away, and he treated strangers as if they were friends. He was as thoughtful as a professor, as calm as a diplomat, as honorable as a clergyman.
He was one of us. He was Lee Roy, and he set the standard for what an athlete should mean for the place in which he lived.
If you are Josh Freeman, or Evan Longoria, or Steven Stamkos, the responsibility has fallen to you. Be kinder. Make a difference. Take more time with people. Reduce the distance between yourself and those who follow you.
If you are Gerald McCoy, or David Price, or Victor Hedman, this should be a goal. Lower your voice. Raise your standards. Smile a little more. Give a little more.
In memory of Lee Roy, every athlete in Tampa Bay, from the budding stars to the players struggling to hang on, from the veterans to the rookies, needs to accept the responsibility of being a little more like Selmon. A little nicer. A little calmer. A little more like Lee Roy, the man who set the standard.
For that matter, it wouldn't hurt the rest of us to try, either.
This is how you honor Lee Roy. Not with a statue or a speech, not with a banner or a trophy. With Lee Roy, the ultimate tribute is to try to live your life a little more the way he lived his. How uncommon should common decency be?
Looking back, Tampa Bay did not merely draft Selmon 35 years ago. It adopted him, and he adopted the area right back. This is not as common as you might think. Most athletes come to a town through the accident of a player draft, and they change colors as quickly as there is bigger money to be made elsewhere.
Other athletes walk through a town and demand that the people who live there get out of their way. Too many are entitled and self-absorbed, and they convince themselves that nastiness and narcissism is the reason for their success. They love the adulation, but only as long as it keeps its distance.
Selmon's approach was different. His humility was genuine, and his decency was endless. He kept his awards in a box, and if he had any ego at all, it was in there, too. Part of his greatness was that he didn't need to bring it up.
On Friday night, after Selmon suffered his stroke, Chicago Bears pro personnel director Tim Ruskell (a ballboy for the Bucs when Selmon arrived) was talking about the last time he had seen Selmon. He had gone to visit Selmon at USF, and Selmon was giving a campus tour to prospective students.
"I wonder how many of those kids knew who Lee Roy was," Ruskell said. "Because you know he wouldn't tell them."
Ah, but if they were from Tampa Bay, they knew. Here, everyone knew.
He was more than a football player. It is odd, but the years have changed Tampa Bay, and there are more people who never saw him play than who did. Most of the people who loved Lee Roy, who idolized Lee Roy, never saw him embarrass a bigger offensive tackle with his rare speed and strength. They have read about him, and they know about his skills, and they know why he is in the Pro Football Hall of Fame (the college one, too).
Still, Selmon was an NFL player for only nine seasons.
He has been Lee Roy for the 27 years since.
As communities go, this one has been blessed with more good guys than most. Warrick Dunn. Derrick Brooks. Mike Alstott. Vinny Lecavalier. John Lynch. We have seen how athletes can affect lives.
Ah, but there has never been anyone quite like Lee Roy. He made a difference in a hundred big ways, and in a million small ways. He made people cheer, and he made people smile, and he filled Tampa Bay with his demeanor. He could have been a teacher or a plumber or a roofer, a mayor or a preacher or a lawyer, and he would have been the same guy.
Today, we mourn a loss that seems much too soon, and much too large, to comprehend. Tampa Bay is lucky that he came here, and blessed that he stayed. This was his home, and he was our neighbor.
Goodbye, Lee Roy.
Oh, and thanks.
OU, NFL football legend Lee Roy Selmon dies
Lee Roy Selmon, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers' Hall of Fame defensive end who teamed with his brothers to create a dominant front and led the University of Oklahoma to back-to-back national championships, died Sunday. He was 56.
BY JOHN ROHDE, The Oklahoman Staff Writer, jrohde@opubco.com
http://newsok.com/
Published: September 4, 2011
Teammates insist the greatest player in Oklahoma football history was never knocked off his feet, but not even Lee Roy Selmon could conquer the massive stroke he suffered at home Friday.
After spending two days in critical condition and with family members by his side, Selmon died Sunday in Tampa, Fla. He was 56.
“It is with very heavy hearts that the Selmon family announces the passing of our beloved husband, father and brother, Lee Roy Selmon,” the Selmon family said in a statement. “Lee Roy passed away today surrounded by family and friends at St. Joseph's Hospital.
“For all his accomplishments on and off the field, to us Lee Roy was the rock of our family. This has been a sudden and shocking event, and we are devastated by this unexpected loss. We deeply appreciate the prayers and support shown by family, friends, the football community and the public over the past two days.”
With Lee Roy lined up alongside older brothers Lucious and Dewey, the Selmons comprised arguably the most dominant defensive line in the history of college football.
Coaches and teammates claim they never saw Lee Roy knocked on his back side.
“When you see him make plays on film, Lee Roy Selmon would make tackles and lay people down,” former OU coach Barry Switzer said. “Everybody else would have crumpled to the ground, and Lee Roy Selmon would still be standing up.”
Former OU assistant Larry Lacewell recruited the Selmons out of Eufaula High School.
“I've never seen him play bad my whole life,” Lacewell once said of Lee Roy.
Ever seen him knocked off his feet?
“That's the legend, and I can't go against it,” Lacewell said. “I've never heard a guy who's been with him, or coached against him, who didn't say he's the best they've seen. I mean everybody. It's incredible, but it's all true.”
Lucious played two seasons at OU with Dewey and Lee Roy, who were in the same class despite being born 11 months apart.
With a Selmon in the lineup, the Sooners had a combined record of 54-3-1. Lee Roy and Dewey went 43-2-1, winning back-to-back national titles in 1974-75, four Big Eight titles and going 38 consecutive games without a loss.
Lee Roy won both the Lombardi and Outland trophies as the nation's outstanding collegiate lineman in 1975.
Receiver Tinker Owens was Lee Roy's teammate for four seasons at OU and later played against him in the NFL.“I haven't seen anybody any better, even in pro football,” Owens said.
Former Detroit Lions coach Monte Clark said Lee Roy was “a grown man at work among a bunch of boys.”
The Selmons long have been considered the First Family of Oklahoma Football.
“I'm still a little bit overwhelmed any time one of us are singled out,” Lee Roy said before being honored on Owen Field at halftime of the OU-South Florida game in 2002.
“Any type of recognition is just a reflection of all those people we played with. I'm humbled by it.”
Lee Roy was the first player taken in the 1976 NFL Draft and the first player chosen in Tampa Bay Buccaneers history. That same year, Tampa Bay selected Dewey with the last pick in the second round and the brothers played together five seasons with the Bucs.
A six-time Pro Bowl selection, Lee Roy was named NFL Defensive Player of the Year in 1979.
In 1995, Lee Roy became the first OU player to be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He entered the College Football Hall of Fame in 1988 and the Oklahoma Sports Hall of Fame in 1992.
Dewey presented Lee Roy at the Pro Football Hall of Fame induction ceremony in Canton, Ohio, where Lucious also was in attendance.
“For 31 years, he was my celibate wife,” Dewey said that day of Lee Roy. “We went on dinner dates together. In fact, for our senior prom it was I who took him there ... I really feel with all of my heart that Lee Roy belongs here (in the Hall).”
Some believe Selmon was the best defensive end to play the game at any level.
“My firm belief is that if Lee Roy Selmon hadn't been such an extraordinarily decent man, he would have been the greatest defensive end who ever played the game,” said former Orlando Sentinel writer Jerry Greene, who covered every game Selmon played with the Bucs from 1976-84. “The only thing that kept him from clearly being the best is that he had nothing resembling a killer instinct. He did his job and he did it well, but he never took any enjoyment or got any extra thrill out of leaving a quarterback injured on the ground. He was a great football player but an even better human being.”
While Switzer was coaching the Dallas Cowboys, Pro Football Hall of Famer Howie Long once told him: “Coach, I just wanted you to know I patterned my game after Lee Roy Selmon, He was the guy I marveled at, and I wanted my game to be as good as his.”
Gary Shelton of the St. Petersburg Times wrote of Selmon: “He is perhaps the most genuine, most dignified former star who ever walked. His nature is so placid, it amazes you he could conjure such a physical player from it.”
Selmon was president of the University of South Florida Foundation Partnership for Athletics and had planned to attend USF's game at Notre Dame on Saturday.
In tribute, South Florida players wore a decal of Selmon's retired uniform number with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers (No. 63) on the back of their helmets. USF wound up posting a 23-20 upset over the No. 16-ranked Fighting Irish.
Selmon served as USF's athletic director from 2001-04. He resigned from that position and returned to a fundraising role because of high blood pressure caused by heart and stress-related problems, Dewey told The Tampa Tribune in 2004.
Dewey also said their father, Lucious Sr., once had a stroke.
Mike Baldwin contributed to this report.
Related:
Lee Roy Selmon's teammates respected the player, loved the person -
http://newsok.com/article/3601282
Lee Roy Selmon was the best of the best -
http://newsok.com/tramel-lee-roy-selmon-was-the-best-of-the-best/article/3601403
Remembering Lee Roy Selmon -
http://espn.go.com/blog/nfcsouth/post/_/id/24577/remembering-lee-roy-selmon
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