Sweetness_ The Enigmatic Life of Walter Payton - Jeff Pearlman [249]
Sadly, Eddie is largely estranged from Connie, Jarrett, and Brittney. Though they talk every few years, mistrust reigns. Eddie and Connie operate their own Walter Payton–themed charities, and the animosity is palpable. Says Brittney: “I think my uncle and that side of the family all felt as if they were owed something from my dad. Even during his career, I think they felt like they were owed something from him and they didn’t get it while he was alive and so they really expected they would get something from him in the end. I think they had a lot of issues with that. I don’t think he had the best relationship with them, and I think that filtered over to me and my brother because he never made it a point for us to reach out to them.”
Lita Gonzalez, Walter’s longtime girlfriend, still lives on the East Coast, and she continues to work as a flight attendant. She has never married, and has worked hard to put the drama with Walter Payton out of her mind. “It’s painful,” she says. “Everything that happened, the way his life ended—I don’t want to think about it anymore. I’ve moved on.”
Bud Holmes, Walter’s agent for the entirety of his career, still lives in Pedal, Mississippi. He is retired, but stays involved in local high school and college sports. Like Eddie, he is no longer on regular speaking terms with Connie. “I like Connie,” says Holmes. “But she’s gone out of her way to cut off the people who know the truth about Walter. She’s probably smart to do that. There’s an image to keep up.”
Ginny Quirk, Walter’s coworker for fourteen years, lives in Illinois. She is married to Mark Alberts, Walter’s former business partner. The couple has two children. The Payton family has accused Quirk of forging Walter’s signature and then selling “autographed” Payton items for large amounts of money. “Completely untrue,” she says. “I don’t even want to dignify that with any sort of response. It’s character assassination.”
Walter’s mother, Alyne Payton, lives in a quaint suburban home in Jackson, Mississippi. Now eighty-five years old, she spends her days gardening and hosting random visitors. “I’m happy,” she says. “It’s been a wonderful life.”
In the summer of 2008, a handsome twenty-three-year-old biracial man took his first-ever flight from Chicago to Jackson, Mississippi.
Though he knew some about the faraway city in the faraway state, any details had always been in the abstract. “Your father is from down South,” he’d been told. “That’s where your roots are.”
Until now, Nigel Smythe, Walter’s second son, had never looked especially hard into this part of his life. He understood that his biological father was one of the most famous sports figures in the United States. But he also knew the same man—one adored by millions of people—had made no effort to be a dad. From the day Nigel was born in 1985 until Walter’s death in 1999, the two never lived more than thirty miles apart from one another. Despite that, Walter Payton—the onetime Illinois Fatherhood Initiative Chicago Father of the Year—wanted nothing to do with the boy.
Now, however, his father was nine years deceased, and Nigel sought answers. With his grandmother and girlfriend by his side, he flew to Jackson to meet the family he never knew. He was, as they say down South, nervous as all heck.
The trepidation vanished, however, as soon as Nigel touched down in the Magnolia State. Alyne Payton, his long-lost grandmother, squeezed him tight and fed him Southern delicacies. His aunt Pamela told stories about her brother that made Nigel laugh. He looked at pictures and asked questions about a father he both loved and resented. Cousins stopped by—Brandi, Pam’s daughter; Erica, Eddie’s girl. He even met Holmes. “He was a real nice kid, and I think he really appreciated coming to Mississippi