E-Mail This Article to a Friend When the supermen prove all too human BY CHRISTOPHER YOUNG

Back in the summer of 2001, I had the good fortune to be chosen as a contestant on Who Wants To Be a Millionaire. Not only was I lucky enough to be among the select 10 who got to the Manhattan studios, but I actually got into the hot seat and made a decent amount of money. During the six-week period between the time the show was taped and the date it actually aired, I was euphoric and brimming with anticipation. I figured that my life would change dramatically once my goofy mug was broadcast to millions of homes nationwide, and at the time I felt that life couldn’t get any better. Then, three weeks before the broadcast, my cancer-stricken father suddenly passed away, and my spirits made the quick descent from the proverbial penthouse to the basement. Reality hit home, with a thud.

Such is the feeling of Patriots fans recently, although luckily in this case, there have been no passings involved. Still, New England football fans, full of exhilaration at their team’s victory over the Philadelphia Eagles in Super Bowl XXXIX, felt no less spiritual deflation when they heard of the recent hospitalization of hard-nosed linebacker Tedy Bruschi. It wasn’t a death in the family, but when it was revealed that Bruschi had suffered a minor stroke and that his promising football career might be in jeopardy, it was a symbolic punch in the gut to fans of the popular defensive team co-captain.

For local followers of the three-time NFL champions, the feeling was similar to what I experienced nearly four years ago: things just can’t get any better than they are right now — but then again, they sure as hell can get a lot worse. In a hurry. And Bruschi’s news not only brought an all-too-human element into the machine-like efficiency that was the Patriots football team, but it also put a damper on the ongoing celebrations of our local sports teams and again reminded us that things can change — just like that.

As veterans of New England winters, we are all well aware of how helpless we are against Mother Nature; indeed, the recent tsunami in Southeast Asia provided a grim reminder of how powerless we are against those greater forces. And while Bill Belichick’s gang seemed to repel all comers each and every week, even the head coach at times admitted that there were some elements of preparation that he had no control over.

For long-time followers of the regional sports landscape, news of Bruschi’s stroke perhaps reminded us of another star athlete’s sudden decline in health. In the spring of 1993, the Boston Celtics were obviously on the downside of their tremendous run through the NBA, and center Robert Parish was all that remained of the "Big Three" and the nucleus of the team that won the 1986 title. Still, there was a smidgen of hope, because of the continued blossoming of sixth-year forward Reggie Lewis, who as a first-round pick in 1987 had come to represent the future hope of the organization. Then, late in a first-round playoff encounter with the Charlotte Hornets, the 27-year-old Lewis, inexplicably woozy and disoriented, stumbled and fell to the Boston Garden parquet. We’ll never truly know what happened to Lewis or what caused this otherwise healthy NBA star to develop heart disease, but two months later — after getting clearance from doctors and beginning off-season preparation for the 1993-’94 season — he collapsed and died while shooting hoops in a practice session at the team’s training facility.

Lewis, like Bruschi, had endeared himself to the fans through his exploits in the sporting arena and his off-court charity and selflessness. Perhaps more than any Celtics athlete since, Lewis was a model citizen who became the human face of the organization, and his untimely passing was a collective blow to fans of any sport or team. It just didn’t make sense; why did the remarkable Reggie Lewis have to die when there is a slew of athletes out there whose antics and demeanor make them unlikable and undeserving of our adulation? Why Reggie?

And now Bruschi. Oh, we can hope that the affable linebacker’s condition not only allows him to resume a normal life, but perhaps even permits him to return to the playing field. While that last concept is very much up in the air given the nature of his ailment, the 31-year-old Bruschi is still around for us to admire and emulate. We can pray that it is always that way, but it’s still mind-boggling to think that such a wonderful role model and athletic icon in the prime of his life could be susceptible to such a life-altering development.

Why him? Why now? We’re not talking about this as selfish Patriots fans worried about our win streak; we’re talking about the possibility of never again seeing this spectacular athlete grace the Gillette Stadium turf — and that seems just plain wrong. Yet like Mother Nature and the Big Guy Upstairs, these greater forces have a hold on all of us, and there’s not a thing we can do to alter the sometimes-unfair circumstances that befall our heroes (sports or otherwise). It serves as a reminder that no matter how great we have things at any point in time, it can all be taken away in an instant, as the Bruschi family — and his NFL brotherhood and fans — are quickly finding out.

All the more reason to appreciate what we have here, even though a Tedy Bruschi–less Patriots team will probably be no less foreboding to upcoming NFL foes. Still, in terms of character and passion, a team without its heart-and-soul focal point will be unquestionably lacking in something, and if we never see #54 on the field again, Patriots football in these parts will forever be a shadow of its former self. Belichick will find a way to plug the hole (as he always does), but the void left in the locker room and in fans’ hearts will not find adequate consolation in some practice-squad or free-agent pick-up.

We can only hope that the Tedy Bruschi story has a happy ending. But even if the curtain has been brought down on his pro-football career, we can all take solace in the fact that we got to see him in his prime, and that he had a profound effect on all of us. He was a true Patriot, and it’s no surprise that his jersey outsells all others in the team’s pro shop — even the seemingly invincible Tom Brady’s. Bruschi was a superman, too — but maybe not really, since recent events prove that he is still just one of us. I’m sure there’s a lesson in there somewhere.

Be well, five-four.

"Sporting Eye" runs Mondays and Fridays at BostonPhoenix.com. Christopher Young can be reached at cyoung[a]phx.com