Walker's Death Causes Wonder

Randy Walker had a twinge back in 2004. In October of that year, Walker checked himself into a hospital after experiencing chest pains. He was diagnosed with myocarditis, an inflammation of the heart muscle; the condition is not a common ailment, and is usually caused by a virus.

He was out of the hospital in two days.

"I've really taken my doctor's orders to heart, because frankly, I want to see my grandkids someday," Walker, Northwestern's head football coach, said at the time.

Two months ago, Northwestern gave Walker a four-year extension through the 2011 season. He joined the school in 1999 after nine years at Miami of Ohio.

Last night, Walker died, not long after collapsing with chest pains. He was 52 years old.

When I was a child, and someone would die around that age, the adults would say something like, "Such a young man." I remember begging to differ. To me, anyone over 40 was ancient.

Today I'm approaching 43, and I know all too well that a 52 year-old man dying is indeed too young. My own father passed of a massive heart attack ten years ago. He was 57. Another young one.

But my father, like Walker, had previous heart issues. In fact, my dad had open heart surgery in 1965 -- at age 26 -- to have an artificial valve inserted. He flew -- and my dad was deathly afraid of planes -- to Houston to have the operation done by famed heart surgeon Dr. Michael DeBakey.

And that valve was working just fine when he died suddenly in February 1996.

I'm always amazed that coaches, with their long hours and penchant for getting wound up during games, haven't been carted away on stretchers into waiting ambulances more than they have. It's unbelievable that more of them don't drop dead before our very eyes, despite how morbid that may sound.

Detroit has been a heart attack-prone sports city.

There was Charlie Dressen, the Tigers manager of the mid-1960's. He suffered a heart attack in spring training, 1965, and was stricken again in May 1966. He died that August.

Lions coach Don McCafferty was barely a week into his second training camp in 1974 when he was felled. He died almost immediately.

And need I remind you of Chuck Hughes, the Lions receiver? He died during a 1971 game against the Bears -- a seemingly healthy man in his mid-20's. Heart attack.

Ray Oyler, the light-hitting shortstop of the '68 Tigers, was dead at age 42, in 1981, of a heart attack. Joe Sparma, a pitcher on that World Series championship team, died in 1986 after suffering a heart attack. He was 44.

Some get the warning signs. Former Utah basketball coach Rick Majerus, certainly not svelte, obeyed the twinges of his body and cooled it. Eventually, he got out of coaching, preferring the pressure-less world of TV talking head.

Randy Walker's death will be properly mourned, and it may prompt a temporary uptick of physical exams from men in their early 50's.

And still I'll wonder how the sports coach, with his hard and mostly sleepless life, combined with game day angst, doesn't leave us too soon more often. Not that I'm complaining.