Sweetness_ The Enigmatic Life of Walter Payton - Jeff Pearlman [236]
When they boarded the plane, Tucker tucked her head into her arms and sobbed. “I knew,” she said, “that Walter Payton was done as we knew him.”
Payton was the marquee guest on a program that also featured senators Robert Byrd, Dianne Feinstein, and Jon Kyl discussing the impeachment trial of President Bill Clinton. King introduced him by saying, “In case you are new to the planet, Walter Payton is forty-four years old . . .” and the interview took off. The majority of Americans had not seen Payton’s press conference, so this was their first glance at the emaciated star. The man who, only months ago, weighed in at 221 pounds was now hovering around 170. His skin and eyes were yellowish, and he wore the weathered appearance of a man in his seventies. As is the way of many athletes, Payton communicated with King in the lingo he knew best. “It was sort of like when I had Coach Ditka,” Payton said. “I said, ‘I’m going to believe in his philosophy, and I’m going to do as he tells me, because he’s going to take us to the Super Bowl.’ And the same way with this doctor. I’m going to use the same philosophy.”
Payton told King he was on the waiting list for a liver—not true. He either didn’t know or didn’t mention that cancer was ravaging his body. Had King done his research, he would have known the visible symptoms Payton was showing had little to do with PCS and everything to do with bile duct cancer.
The show’s finest moment came toward the end, when Payton looked at King and, for the first of many times, made an impassioned plea for organ donations. “I’ve been a donor, you know, ever since I had my Illinois license,” he said. “One of the things that I said was that, you know, being a football player for thirteen years, you know, I probably wore out just about everything in my body, but if there’s something in there that somebody can use, you know, so well. And Mike Ditka said it—in death you can give life and what better gift is there? And I think that a lot of people should look at that now. I know there are religious reasons and everybody thinks of other reasons, but I think that we all should just stand back and look at it.”
After taking a couple of phone calls, King wrapped up what would go down as one of the most moving segments of his fifty-three-year career.
Payton: When I do cry, they’re tears of joy.
King: We wish you everything you wish yourself. Godspeed and when you get that transplant, you’ll be sitting right here and we’ll reminisce about carrying the football.
Payton: OK.
King: Thanks, Walter.
Payton: Thanks, Larry.
King: Best of luck.
Payton: Oh, God’s with me. I’ll be OK.
In the immediate aftermath of his appearance on Larry King, Walter Payton’s world shook. The calls of support were nonstop—from Mike Singletary and Mike Ditka; from Evel Knievel and Michael Jordan. Jay Leno sent a note that read, “We’re all here for you. When you get your new liver, put your old one in a jar and bring it on The Tonight Show.” Payton was a guest on Oprah and CBS This Morning. Connie and Brittney accepted an award on his behalf at the ESPYs (Payton watched from home, ordering in P.F. Chang’s). Columnists across the nation sang his praises as the new face of American courage. “Cry for him, pray for him,” wrote Jay Mariotti of the Chicago Sun-Times. “But never lose faith in him.”
Most amazing was the impact his condition had on organ donations. In the week following Payton’s press conference, the Illinois secretary of state’s office averaged 115 donor inquiries per day—compared to roughly twelve per day before the announcement. “Never before have we had anything come close to this happening,” said Jan Grines, manager of the secretary of state’s organ and tissue donor registry. “Payton has touched the hearts of Illinoisans.” The producers of the hit CBS television show, Touched by an Angel, asked Payton to