My Dirty Little Secrets - Steroids, Alcohol & God: The Tony Mandarich Story
204
My Dirty Little Secrets - Steroids, Alcohol & God: The Tony Mandarich Story
204Hardcover
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Overview
"The overriding sentiment, however, is one of emptiness. Not so much for promises unfulfilled, but for sins not repented. Maybe some day Mandarich will set the record straight and answer all the nagging questions he leaves behind. I hope so."
For all the sports writers, fans, coaches, friends and family, My Dirty Little Secrets sets the record straight. On the 20th anniversary of his draft in 1989, Tony reveals the reasons why he never achieved what the nation expected of him, and what he expected of himself. His story is an inspiration for alcoholics and drug abusers, and offers hope for those trying to help themselves out of the nightmare of addiction.
My Dirty Little Secrets promises to help readers
"My Dirty Little Secrets is a testament that faith in a higher power can bring us to salvation and light. Tony's story is touched by magic and brushes against the tragic. It's a great human journey and a victory for the human spirit."
--Jim Irsay, Owner, Indianapolis Colts, Super Bowl (r) XLI Champions
After a highly successful and nationally publicized college career at Michigan State Unviersity, Tony Mandarich was drafted number two in 1989. The hype about his power and standing as a football player along with Tony's addictions, was more than he could live up to, and his life came crashing down around him. After three more years of alcohol and painkillers' abuse, Tony accepted God's hand, went into treatment and now considers it a privilege to be able to help other addicts when called upon.
Learn more at www.TonyMandarich.com
Book #6 in the Reflections of America Series from Modern History Press www.ModernHistoryPress.com
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781932690774 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Modern History Press |
| Publication date: | 02/14/2009 |
| Series: | Reflections of America |
| Pages: | 204 |
| Product dimensions: | 6.14(w) x 9.21(h) x 0.50(d) |
Read an Excerpt
CHAPTER 1
The Rise
An electric current ran through me when I arrived at Michigan State in the fall of 1984. Not only did I love the energy in East Lansing, I made a vow to myself: This would be my launching pad into the NFL, a dream I'd cherished since childhood. I promised myself I would do whatever was necessary to become the best football player I could be.
The game was my entire life since childhood. I'd played pickup football with my friends in my neighborhood as a child and then, at White Oaks Secondary School in Oakville, Ontario, I played organized football with equipment for the first time. Pickup football was really more my style, because we made our own rules! I was always bigger than my friends, so I was usually in charge. I loved running, competing, and most of all, I loved winning. The thrill of knowing I was the best in my group of friends was where the electric current in me got its start.
My parents provided another impetus for the highly charged sense of competition I developed for the game. They were role models for my belief that I had to do something extraordinary to achieve what may feel or appear like insurmountable goals. The lesson they provided me came with a high price tag for them; in 1957, they escaped Yugoslavia (now Croatia) in the dark of the night because they refused to live under Communist rule any longer. Six months after their baby girl died because they couldn't afford the medical care she needed, they left their home, taking only a small 12 by 18 inch suitcase and the clothes they wore. After walking through Croatia and Slovenia, they forged the Mura River that separated Slovenia and Austria on a cloudy night, desperately hoping the border guards with their rifles would not see them. It was their willpower and grit that finally got them to Canada as immigrants, determined to make a new life for themselves. Somewhere deep within me, I believed that if they could put their lives on the line to be free, I certainly could risk all I had to become a member of the National Football League.
Driven by my insane desire to be the best, I always sought the edge. My brother John, whom I revered, taught me that lesson. He said you had to have the edge over everyone else in order to reach your life goals. So, for me, the edge was always front and center in my plans. I sought a training regime and psychological stance that set me apart from other football players. I became unique and different because I trained differently, thought individually and prepared uncommonly. I put myself in the riskiest position possible because I fully intended to play in the NFL. Really good athletes, in any sport, are unique and different. I wanted to be the best. I wanted to become extraordinary.
Young and impressionable, I received a wake-up call during my first college game against Notre Dame in East Lansing. John and I had watched the Irish as kids, so I couldn't help feeling a sense of exhilaration as I thought: "Oh My God, this is THE Notre Dame! THE Notre Dame with Touchdown Jesus!" Now, I proudly wore Michigan State colors and would play against them.
Mark Bavaro added intimidation to my thoughts. Huge arms hung from the shoulders of the Notre Dame tight end; he resembled a gladiator. I weighed in at a measly 270 pounds, a stick of an offensive tackle. The mere sight of Bavaro delivered a wake-up call, the first of many that were going to happen over the next few years. I knew I had to get in the weight room to hang with the big boys. Big Time college football demanded I get serious.
Football became my twelve-month, round-the-clock pursuit. Friends went south for spring break, but I remained in East Lansing to work in the weight room. I believed championships and great players were made in the off-season. I was going to be the best player in football, whatever it took. So I spent January through April in continuous workouts and additional training programs to get the edge I craved.
Buck Nystrom, MSU's offensive line coach, ran the off-season conditioning program that began every morning at 6 a.m., which meant a 5 a.m. wake up call for me. Nystrom had more passion for what he believed in than any coach I'd ever known. Ignoring the frigid conditions in East Lansing during the winter, I walked through the dark in the biting cold weather to Jenison Field House for the morning workouts.
I wanted to play football, so I followed the rules. At least, I followed the obvious rules. I didn't want to flunk out of MSU, nor did I want to get kicked out for not following rules for football players. I had no concept about addictions at that point in my life, so I had no idea that in spite of my efforts to conform, I was spiraling down into a deep, dark hole. I neither realized nor admitted to myself that becoming psychologically dependent on steroids and physically dependent on alcohol was breaking all the rules and would result in a fate worse than flunking out of college. After all, everyone went out for Thursday night beer, right? Doing steroids was permissible because it would get me into the NFL. All I had to do was keep it hidden, and that made it okay. I had all the answers.
So, on the surface I did what I thought was expected of me: I studied and trained faithfully. Late afternoons found the Spartan team back in the football building, lifting weights and working out again. Sometimes we would review training material and practice our position drills, even during the off-season. My first two years included dinner in the dorm and studying in the evenings. Tutors were hired for the team, and in the evening freshmen were required to attend study hall, where the tutors were available. Upperclassmen could use the services of tutors if they chose, but if your grade point fell below 2.0, the study hall was again required. I was bound and determined I wouldn't fall below this mark, and willing to do whatever it took. I majored in communications and relished the opportunity to explore the field of journalism. That knowledge later enhanced my work as a Canadian television sports commentator and helped me to deal better with public life and the media.
During football season the routine changed. Freshmen still had study hall and all the players still had classes, twice daily practice and workouts, but the Friday nights before Saturday home games were a time filled with the tradition of decades of football at Michigan State. That night found the entire team in the Kellogg Center, an on-campus hotel where we stayed the night. Those evenings included a team dinner, team meetings and position meetings — all final preparations for the Saturday game. The curfew always came at 11:00 p.m. We each went to our room then — working, sometimes frantically, to contain the eagerness and anticipation we felt about the upcoming game. For me, Friday nights were always a preview of what I would finally have when I arrived at the door of the NFL. The anticipation of the game for me was anticipation of the NFL, and almost as exhilarating as playing on the field.
Then came Saturday mornings. As I woke up in my room in Kellogg, excitement began to grow. I went to breakfast — always scheduled at a time directly related to kickoff — feeling the thrill of the game building. Following breakfast, we showered and dressed in suit and tie. Then, several hours before kickoff, the time-honored ritual of walking from the Kellogg Center to the football field began. The contrast between game gear and suit and tie is striking, and the dissimilarity between the two was chosen on purpose: game gear is required to play the game; a suit and tie command respect, dignity and adulation. Those feelings were lost on none of us.
When we made that walk in formal attire, we always felt special, honored and respected. We'd be filthy and smelly and grimy in a few hours, but this was our time, our spotlight, during which we felt more important than anyone could possibly imagine.
Michigan State fans are passionate about football, and they let us know that every time we made that walk. Head coach George Perles led the walking parade through a tunnel of cheering fans that were hungry to see the Spartans win. The half-mile walk wove through the beautiful trees on campus, which in the fall were heavy with their riot of yellow, red and orange leaves. Making the walk was a heady experience; I always felt a rush of pride, being part of a tradition that spanned so many years.
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, I changed. I can say that now. I did not know it at the time. In retrospect, I think it probably began when I left home to spend my senior year of high school at Roosevelt High in Kent, Ohio. John and I had been talking about how to get to the NFL for years. When we were kids, we'd hurry to get our chores done on Saturdays, so we could watch college football at noon. Then on Sundays, we were glued to the television to watch the NFL game. Our shared dream was to play football in the NFL, hopefully together. We talked about what positions we would play, how we would work together on the field and how we would be the best brother-brother team ever seen in the NFL. We would have the whole world talking about us!
We knew we had better chances if we attended college in the United States. Kent State awarded John a scholarship to attend college there, and play football. During my junior year of high school in Oakville, we also talked about how to get me into a big time college football program. We decided my chances would improve if I attended my senior year of high school in the United States. We just had to convince our parents, and that wasn't easy. Our parents were 'hands on' parents. They had already lost a six-month old daughter, and they were determined to do everything in their power to help and protect us. They wanted us growing up 'right' and that meant going to church, serving as altar boys, no drinking, no drugs, and being watched over carefully so their strict (but loving) parental controls would ensure our safe journey into adulthood.
John was home for Christmas and New Year's of 198283. During Christmas dinner, John opened the discussion proposing my move to Ohio to live with him.
"Tony's really got talent and he'll have a lot better chance for a good U.S. university if he plays high school football in the States. Colleges and universities don't recruit here, in Canada, like they do in the States." John laid out the rationale unemotionally.
Mom cried, "I can't let my boy go away. He's too young!" Dad agreed, but he also saw John's point. However, he wasn't going to argue with Mom, the matriarch of the family, at least not at first.
"But, Mom, the only thing I want to do with my life is play football," I protested, desperately needing her to give permission and equally desperately wanting to move to Ohio with John. I didn't want to leave Mom and Dad, but I really wanted to play football and get a jumpstart to the pros. I wanted a life of my own. I wanted to fulfill my dream of being in the NFL. My parents wanted me to be what I wanted to be, but they were reluctant to let me go at the tender age of 16. They had already lost a daughter, and their oldest son had moved away. I was the only one left at home.
That discussion went on for several months. The final persuasive argument was their realization of what offered me the best opportunity; Dad finally convinced Mom to let me go, however reluctantly. She finally gave up trying to hold out against the three men in her family. My parents agreed my chances would improve immeasurably if I went to the United States for my senior year of high school.
John, only four years older than I, had to go to court in Kent to be appointed my legal guardian. And in August 1983, he and I drove from Oakville to Kent, Ohio, beginning our journey toward the goal of my NFL career. John told me we needed to seize the opportunity before it was too late. He guided and protected me and was as heavily invested in my becoming a NFL player as I was. I knew I was going to be the best NFL player ever. I would make sure everyone on the planet knew who Tony Mandarich was.
John Nemec, the head coach at Kent Roosevelt High School, and his family welcomed me with open arms. They and the other coaches and their families became my instant extended family. Here I was, a Canadian, taking the place another kid from the United States would have had on that team, yet I was accepted just like the rest of the team members. I'm still amazed that they were so giving and gracious to me. It helped make up for being away from Mom and Dad; I didn't get lonely like I otherwise might have. Even if I did, it's something I wouldn't admit. I've always felt the Nemecs didn't have to be so nice, but they were anyway, and I'll never forget that.
Again I put myself in a position most people don't normally choose. I left home and moved to Ohio with John; that was not a common thing in my culture or community. Families moved together because Mom or Dad got transferred; sixteen year-olds did not leave home for the sole purpose of getting a scholarship, improving exposure and aggressively seeking the opportunity to play big time college football. I could have gotten an education at home, but I craved more. That craving was so deep I could taste it.
My parents made a very tough decision, not only in allowing me to go live with John, but by permitting me to leave home and go live in another country, just like they'd done, but for very different reasons. It was tough saying goodbye to them, but I was so excited about the new path I was on. I had a gamut of mixed emotions. Part of me was glad to be gone because of all the strict rules my parents imposed on me — I hated rules. They often prevented expression of my rebellious nature. John had rules too, but he wasn't as strict. I was excited about the many opportunities ahead of me, but my primary thought was to play in the NFL, and I was on my way there. I didn't give any thought to the stability offered to most teens through parental control channels, but what teen does? I was singularly excited about being out from under those controls; I felt those rules impeded my creativity and movement into adulthood.
John made sacrifices for me, too. He was a college senior at Kent State, with an active social life, and suddenly he had a high school senior living with him in his apartment. That was a big sacrifice; he'd been on his own and finally away from parental rule for three years, and now ... there was me. The silent question was all around him, "Your little brother lives with you?" John wanted me there for my benefit. That's the kind of guy he was; he was living out his role as the older brother, taking care of me. At that time I didn't fully realize the sacrifices he was making. As I think back, it touches my heart when I realize how adamantly he wanted to help me get a football scholarship and get on the road to the NFL.
On the first drive from Canada to Kent, John casually revealed to me that he used steroids, and thought it was the edge to get to the NFL. He said everybody in the NFL was using them. His comments were casual; I could use them if I wanted to, and if I didn't, that would be okay too. He didn't coax, didn't encourage; he just told me what he'd chosen to do to try to attain the athletic edge he thought was so important – strength beyond what you can obtain with weights.
I clearly inherited my size from my parents, but John was my older brother, and I listened to everything he told me. He was my hero and I would do everything he suggested. If he thought I should consider steroids to increase my already-large body, then I'd do it. There was no second-guessing. He said you had to be the best in your position on the team, or you wouldn't make the NFL. We both sought the best, so I started doing steroids my last semester in high school. I wanted to be the best football player in the NFL, and I would do whatever it took to get there.
I played the entire season of my senior year at Kent Roosevelt High School. I played well, and there was a lot of talk about my future in a college or university in the States. I knew I'd made the right decision about living there my senior year. One day after practice, Coach Nemec announced to the team that the coaches were going to be filming several games. We all felt important and proud, but also curious. He explained they would be sending clips of some of us to colleges and universities for possible recruiting efforts. I wanted to go to Ohio State at the time, and secretly hoped they would get some of the clips to review. If there'd been a way to ensure OSU got my clips, I'd have done it in a minute. But I didn't have any way to be sure they got them, so I resorted to praying.
Toward the end of the season, I got a call from Nick Saban, who was the Ohio-area recruiter for Michigan State University. He'd seen a game film my coaches had sent out, and he said he wanted to see me play. I was almost giddy, but I held back because a guy like me would never admit to the inner excitement — guys just didn't express feelings like that. I felt honored someone would travel from East Lansing just to watch me play football. My dreams were starting to become reality. Maybe I'd even get to visit the MSU campus. I began doing some computing... It was only a five-hour drive from there to my home in Ontario, and if I went there I would be able to see my parents more often. Maybe East Lansing would be a better place to go to college than Ohio? I could hardly contain my excitement. When he arrived, Nick told me all about MSU and said they wanted me to come to MSU for a visit. When I went to visit, they said they were interested in me playing there and offered me a scholarship. I was ecstatic! A full scholarship and only five hours from home! I could live with this deal! It was exactly what I dreamed of; I was on my way to becoming the best football player in the NCAA, and I was willing to do whatever it took.
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "My Dirty Little Secrets"
by .
Copyright © 2017 Tony Mandarich.
Excerpted by permission of Loving Healing Press, Inc..
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