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Former football great details the pittfalls of addiction by Hank Brockett 10/23/02 |
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On the screen and in photos, D.D. Lewis dominates. A kamikaze of aggression somehow packaged in shoulder pads, the Dallas Cowboy punishes as the fans rejoice. In person and years after his playing days, D.D. Lewis educates. Far removed from playing weight and almost unrecognizable when compared to the 20-something monster, Lewis always has been a a study of perceptions and realities. On Tuesday, a video package detailed an illustrious football career, followed by a screen saver scrawl that spelled out “Love Never Fails!” The contradictions are just part of the reality of D.D. Lewis. Lewis spoke in front of Coal City High School students as part of Red Ribbon Week, an exemplary example of addiction’s ravages. But clean and sober for more than 16 years, it was tougher to tell what shone brighter - his two Super Bowl rings or his eyes when detailing the road to recovery. As with any road - to ruin or salvation - his journey on Tuesday transformed into a series of vignettes, the consequences of what Lewis calls the thousand choices in a day. Initial perception - Lewis began life as the youngest of 14 children. His was a close family, literally much more than figuratively. The four-room home barely contained the large Lewis clan. With only so much attention to go around, a young Lewis rarely sensed parental encouragement. “In my perception, I’m D.D. Lewis, dumb and stupid, white trash, I live across the tracks and I’m not going to amount to much.” Solitary - That poor self-image led to a troublesome childhood, in which Lewis found himself in solitary confinement. For two weeks, Lewis started at the steel sink and steel bed. With just the right maneuvering, he could tip-toe a three-inch ledge to peek out into the outside world. The view was just good enough to see that his parents weren’t coming for that first visitation. Double-minded - After his mother pleaded with a judge, Lewis found himself in boarding school. With some pleading, a nephew convinced him to try out for the high school football team. In the initial scrimmage, the scrawny, 145-pound Lewis found himself playing middle linebacker. As a large fullback barreled through the line, Lewis glanced off a block and lunged. The fullback gained a few yards but lost a mouthful of teeth. “You know, I found a home for my aggression,” he said. The eventual success created Lewis’ first double life, as both a stand-up Christian athlete and a rebel rouser on the streets with the guys. “I heard it said that a double-minded man is unstable in all his ways,” said Lewis. The college life - The supposedly stupid Lewis soon arrived at Mississippi State, nurtured by coaches and helped by two tutors. As the accolades rolled in, he lived like it was the time of his life. “When I drank, I was 6-foot-5, I could dance, I was so intelligent I was obnoxious and I would get up at fraternity parties and sing,” said Lewis. “I was a fool.” Highlights - The All-American was selected in the sixth round by the Dallas Cowboys, “America’s Team.” As he tells it, he slid in the backdoor and held on for 14 years, 27 playoff games and five Super Bowls. His last game is one of football’s most memorable. In the sports world, fans refer to it as “The Catch.” But the name refers to Joe Montana finding Dwight Clark in the end zone, not # 50 chasing the elusive quarterback. “I never catch him,” joked Lewis. “They always complete that pass.” Turn for the worse - With an accomplished career and plenty of notoriety, retirement meant endorsements and an even better life. Lewis appeared in a beer commercial and even was acknowledged as Miller Lite Man of the Year. Three months after “The Catch,” Lewis contemplated suicide. “I know I cannot stop a thought from coming into my mind,” said Lewis. “It’s what you do with it that counts.” The road to somewhere - After a divorce from his wife and a personal life in ruin, Lewis began listening. Eventually, his perception of an alcoholic as the guy underneath the bridge or the sad sap with the cardboard sign included the image of a once-great football star. In February of 1986, Lewis says he reached out for the first time in his life. “I didn’t care if you rejected me now, because I was clinging to life,” he said. A bright today - In speeches like these across the country, Lewis details his road as part of his customer relations work for Potash Corporation of Saskatchewan. School children learn that he eventually surrounded himself with people looking out for his best interests. After his harrowing tale, he hopes he can break through a whispered wall of wasted Saturday nights and pass on his knowledge. “Maybe that’s what I was trained for,” said Lewis between speeches. Even though he has presented his life’s tale for five years in this capacity, Lewis still meets with four guys just about every week to talk about religion and their life relationships. The talks are his way of approaching his biggest current problem, being honest and taking the right road instead of the easy one. In addition to substance abuse, Lewis connected fear with other problems teen-agers face. “We learn our sex in the locker room, on the streets, in the movies,” he said. “We never see the consequences.” Lewis said that the subject matter always provokes a few snickers and smiles, actions he says cover up fear. It’s a fear Lewis believes only can be tackled with help from others. “You can lead a marvelous, marvelous life,” he said. “But you need help. We all need help.” |
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Originally published in the Braidwood Journal | ||||||||
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