The former Bears star died Thursday at 80.
The best story about Dick Butkus, the one that summed up the fight in him and the flight response in others, had to do with the poor slobs who made the unfortunate mistake of harassing the football star’s girlfriend one day at Chicago Vocational High School.
Butkus was in full pads for practice when he noticed four guys giving Helen Essenberg, his future wife, a hard time. What happened next was recounted in a 1993 Sports Illustrated story by Rick Telander, now a Sun-Times columnist:
“Without hesitation, Butkus ran off the field, chased the car onto 87th Street, dived through the open front window on the passenger side and, in full uniform, thrashed each of the passengers. Then he climbed out of the car and walked back to the field.”
Butkus wasn’t just Chicago tough. He was tougher than Chicago. Tougher than anybody who made the mistake of challenging him. Tougher than a moving car.
The Bears legend died Thursday at 80. It was an upset. You figured he’d stare at death, and death would do what everybody else did when confronted with the menace in his eyes: run. Whatever you’ve heard about his ferocity, about his love of contact, about his need to hit someone or something, it’s probably an understatement.
As a linebacker at CVS, he accounted for 70% of his team’s tackles. There are stories about him practicing his tackling technique by running into trees. This is Paul Bunyan stuff. Also true stuff.
