Post by TheShadow on Apr 23, 2006 14:36:34 GMT -5
www.mlive.com
Wheatley comes back to Michigan to finish his degree, help coach the track team
Sunday, April 23, 2006
BY JOHN HEUSER
News Sports Reporter
Tyrone Wheatley bid Ann Arbor farewell more than a decade ago, leaving for a productive NFL career that took him to both coasts, included nearly 5,000 rushing yards and a Super Bowl appearance with the Oakland Raiders.
But when Wheatley decided to retire last year, he and his wife Kim - who were high school sweethearts - decided to return to their Michigan roots. The couple now lives in Ann Arbor with their four children, and Wheatley has picked up at the University of Michigan right where he left off.
He's back in classes, nearly finished with his undergraduate degree in sports management. Wheatley is also involved in the school's athletics, although not with the football team for which he starred. He's helping out with his "second'' sport, track and field.
While at Michigan, Wheatley was a track All-American and a Big Ten champion hurdler in an encore to a high school track career at Dearborn Heights Robichaud, where he also was named an All-American.
On any weekday, take a late afternoon stroll past the track at Ferry Field, and Wheatley will be there. Assistant men's coach Fred LaPlante designs the workouts for the hurdlers and sprinters. Wheatley helps LaPlante as a volunteer assistant, critiquing athletes from a technical standpoint.
"It's a goofy group of guys,'' Wheatley said. "Goofy in a good sense. They keep you young. Keep you on your toes.''
Wheatley has been tapping the experience of LaPlante and head coach Ron Warhurst, learning more about the administrative aspects of coaching. From LaPlante's perspective, Wheatley's presence has added substantial value to the team.
"It's not surprising that the kids are enamored with his background,'' LaPlante said. "It's one thing for someone like me to tell a kid something; when Tyrone Wheatley tells a kid, it's something different.''
Time to retire
When Wheatley got to the NFL, as a first-round draft pick of the New York Giants, he and other younger players teased the veterans who liberally applied products such as Flexall and Icy Hot to soothe their pains.
"We used to call it old-man cologne,'' Wheatley remembered. "Those guys would bathe in it.''
Only after a while, Wheatley became one of "those guys.''
At workouts with the Raiders, Wheatley would wear his throwback cleats, a pair of old Nike high-tops that prompted teammates to question whether that was the same footwear he had laced up for Michigan's Rose Bowl appearances.
In conversations Wheatley had with older players through the years, they explained to him how the process of giving up football would go.
"When it's time, your body will tell you and then your heart,'' he said, adding. "It wasn't so much that your body is broken down dead on the side of the road, but it was the bumps and bruises. Getting hit wasn't fun for me anymore.''
When Wheatley's friend and Raiders' teammate Napoleon Kaufman retired, Wheatley paid close attention. Kaufman called him the night before a mini-camp started and told Wheatley: "I'll be out there tomorrow. If I'm not feeling it, I'm gone.''
While Wheatley sweated through the workout, Kaufman stood off to the side relaxing, a big smile on his face. His decision had been made.
"I could see that he was so happy with the thought of leaving the game,'' Wheatley said.
One year, while recovering from shoulder surgery, Wheatley experienced life without football, and concluded it wasn't so bad.
"I got used to sitting on the couch, used to seeing my sons play baseball, used to seeing them play soccer,'' he said. "(I) really got used to having no football responsibilities.''
So last summer, Wheatley decided to step away from the game.
"It was one of those deals where I beat myself up enough. Football provided for me, gave me a wonderful and joyful life,'' Wheatley said. "It was a matter of, do I really need this anymore? Do I have to?''
No looking back
Throughout his career, Wheatley kept a notebook in which he created a list - "from A to Z'' as he puts it - of things he wanted to accomplish when his playing career ended.
Most immediate - and important - were completing his education, and spending more time with his children, who range in age from 3 to 9.
"For a big chunk of their life, daddy has been gone,'' Wheatley said. "It's not like they're on your routine, you have to get on their routine.''
He told a story of how he was once sitting next to one of his sons when the boy suddenly went off in search of his mom, walking upstairs to tell Kim he wanted something to eat. It never occurred to Wheatley's son that dad could handle the job, too.
"It hit me,'' Wheatley said. "(That) I really, really have to reintroduce myself back into their life.''
Longer-term, Wheatley is working toward starting a youth center in his hardscrabble hometown of Inkster. It would be a place where kids and teenagers in need can get tutoring, a hot lunch and job counseling. He also envisions recreation opportunities, including Amateur Athletic Union teams based there in a number of sports.
"I don't want to sound too cliché,'' Wheatley said. "But I want to open that up and try to save the world back there.''
As Wheatley has discovered, however, there are roadblocks to his dream, especially the multiple layers of government bureaucracy he has begun to fight through.
"It's a huge thing, a hard thing,'' Wheatley said. "It's intimidating.''
But not enough to scare him off, he said, as he settles into a life, post-football, that's filled with possibilities.
"I always want people to remember me as a person, not as a football player,'' Wheatley said. "If I'm your friend, your contemporary, I want you to remember me for the impact I had on you personally.''
