O’Donnell: With his life force and Lone Star ways, Steve McMichael won
THE HONKY TONKS IN TEXAS could easily have been Steve McMichael’s natural second home.
Where you tip your hat to the ladies and the Rose of San Antone.
Instead, powered by brawny determination and an electric personality, he elected to pursue bright lights, NFL cities.
He conquered.
HE DIED THIS WEEK, on the eve of the 2025 NFL draft, after a 52-month struggle with ALS. But the images of those final laps do a disservice to what the man was all about.
As a featured player on the most theatrical Super Bowl champion ever — the 1985 Bears — McMichael forged a colorful reputation for toughness and dependability.
He was resourceful. He was honest. And he was always so alive.
The core of his game was muscular indomitability. Later, as an entertainment presence, he showed a capacity for reinvention worthy of a shrewd pop culturist.
DURING AND AFTER his 15-season pro career (1980-94), McMichael finessed through assorted personas.
Among them: radio and TV commentator, part-time musician with Red River running mate Dan Hampton and The Chicago Six, a pro wrestler and a football coach (with the Chicago Slaughter of the Continental Indoor Football League from 2007-13).
But always — always — his NFL afterlife had as its foundation a public voice of truth and bite about the predictably unpredictable Bears.
That voice led to a variety of media gigs, most memorably with Mark Giangreco at WMAQ-Channel 5 and also on ESPN-AM (1000).
HIS INSIGHTS HAD CEASELESS CREDIBILITY with Bears fans because of his renown as a classic Monster of the Midway.
In 1985 McMichael held his own with that star-laden shufflin’ crew.
“How relevant is that team?” McMichael told Rick Kogan in an enduring profile. “Well, brother, we ain’t won a Super Bowl since (and still haven’t). This town doesn’t want sophisticated offenses and fancy football. The fans here want the violence. They want the predators. And that’s what we were, baby.”
Indeed they were.
In Canton last summer, McMichael joined fellow stuffers Hampton, Mike Singletary and Richard Dent in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
ONE OF HIS FEW REGRETS was about the closing minutes of the 46-10 romp at the Superdome. The Bears led 44-10 and turned the ball over on downs deep in New England territory.
Mike Ditka elected not to kick a field goal. Ryan, the defensive mastermind, pulled most of his starters, including McMichael.
So a backup DT named Henry Waechter sacked QB Steve Grogan for a safety and the final 2 points of the historic win.
McMichael later mused: “I’ve wondered what if I’d still been in and got that sack? Would that have pushed me ahead of Dent in the voting for MVP? I really would liked to have gotten that car.”
HIS FIRST WIFE WAS DEBRA MARSHALL, a flight attendant. His mother set the two up on a blind date.
Marshall and McMichael were married in 1985. In 1995 they crossed into pro wrestling. Three years later, they divorced. She married “Stone Cold” Steve Austin.
FOLLOWING RETIREMENT from the WCW/WWF, he met a beautician-turned-ecdysiast named Misty Davenport. They married in 2001. Daughter Macy McMichael was born in 2008.
“A stripper and a washed-up wrestler,” McMichael told media. “That movie writes itself.”
That was before the onset of his ALS, which was diagnosed in late 2020.
During the challenges that followed, Misty McMichael emerged as a symbol of steadfast partnership and exhausting devotion.
EARLIER, IN 2013, HE RAN FOR mayor of Romeoville and lost. He also operated “Mongo's,” a pub in the southwest suburb. Few this side of Alex Karras and “Blazing Saddles” needed to ask the derivation of the name.
Mike Ditka called McMichael, “the toughest player I ever coached. Steve transcended every era. He could have played in the ‘40s, the ‘50s, the ‘60s, the ‘70s. He played the game the way it should be played.”
FOR MORE THAN FOUR DECADES, McMichael the football brute played a smart aleck. His public loved it.
He went from a third-round castoff of the Patriots in 1980 to five All-Pro seasons with the Bears. He spent a final campaign with the detested Packers (1994), proving, as he later joked, “We’re all only in it for the money.”
His final ledger with the Bears included: 191 consecutive games played (plus 12 postseason contests), 33 game balls and 92½ sacks — a remarkable number for a DT.
IN A 2016 ESPN “30 FOR 30” SPECIAL on the 1985 Bears, McMichael told director Jason Hehir: “I don’t want to hear about ‘the fall’ of that team. Go sit on whatever anyone says about ‘the fall.’ Every one of them would do it again. What does that tell you?”
It should tell that once there was a magical moment in NFL time.
Near the power paws of it all — down where the Brahman bulls get creative and nasty — was a conquering honky-tonk hero from Texas named Steve McMichael.
Jim O’Donnell’s Sports and Media column appears each week on Sunday and Wednesday Reach him at jimodonnelldh@yahoo.com. All communications may be considered for publication.