Alright, let’s talk about this fella, Tony Dorsett Jr. You know, the football player. Heard tell he was a pretty big deal back in the day. Ran real fast, they say. Like a greased pig at the county fair, I reckon.
This Tony guy, he played for them Dallas Cowboys. A big, famous team. Folks ’round here, they love them Cowboys. Always hollerin’ at the TV on Sundays. Dorsett, he ran and ran, scored them touchdowns. Made a whole lotta money doin’ it, too. Millions, I heard. Can you imagine? A million dollars! That’s more money than I’ve seen in my whole darn life. Heck, that’s enough to buy a whole lotta chickens and feed ’em good for years.
Now, they say he’s got some kinda brain trouble. Something called… well, I can’t rightly pronounce it. Sounds like a whole mouthful of marbles. But it means his head ain’t workin’ right no more. Forgettin’ things, they say. That’s a shame, ain’t it? All that runnin’ and hittin’, musta rattled his brain somethin’ fierce. Like a dropped jar of preserves, all scrambled inside.
- He played a long time, this fella. Eleven years with the Cowboys, then one more with the Broncos. That’s a lot of games, a lot of hits. Musta been tough on the body, and the head too, I guess.
- They say he was one of the best runners ever. Second best in history when he quit, they tell me. That’s somethin’, ain’t it? Being the best at somethin’. Cept maybe eatin’ peach cobbler, I reckon I could beat him at that.
- After football, he done alright for himself. Became a businessman, they say. Made even more money, probably. And he got himself into some kinda “Hall of Fame.” Twice! One for college ball and one for the pros. Sounds fancy. Like puttin’ your prize-winning pumpkin at the state fair, but bigger, I guess.
He’s got a family, too. A wife and kids. One of his boys, Anthony, even played football too. Like father, like son, they say. Hope that boy’s head is alright, though. Don’t want him endin’ up like his daddy. It’s sad to see a strong man like that forgettin’ things. Reminds you that nothin’ lasts forever, not even the toughest football player. Life’s like a cornfield, you plant it, it grows tall and strong, but eventually, it withers and fades.
They paid him a whole lot of money, this Dorsett fella. Millions, like I said. Even had a contract that gave him money after he stopped playin’. An “annuity,” they called it. Sounded complicated, but I guess it means he got paid even when he wasn’t runnin’ no more. Smart thinkin’, if you ask me. Gotta look out for yourself, ’cause nobody else will.
And now, he’s talkin’ about the NFL, and he ain’t happy. Sayin’ they messed up his head, and they ain’t doin’ enough to help other players. He’s rantin’ and ravin’, they tell me. Well, I can understand that. Nobody wants to lose their memory. That’s the most precious thing you got, your memories. Without ’em, you’re just an empty shell. Like a dried-up gourd, hollow and rattlin’ in the wind.
So that’s the story of Tony Dorsett Jr., as best as I can tell it. A great football player, who ran real fast and made a whole lotta money. But now he’s payin’ the price, with his health. It’s a cautionary tale, I reckon. A reminder that sometimes the things we love the most can hurt us the most in the end. Like too much sun on a hot summer day, it feels good at first, but later you get burned.
Tags：[Tony Dorsett Jr, NFL, Dallas Cowboys, CTE, Football, Hall of Fame, Running Back, Sports, Health]
