Oh wow, where to even kick off with Steve McMichael, right? Dude was this larger-than-life character, crazy mix of Ha-Ha-Ha theatrical antics and raw, like, primal football terror, if you catch my drift? Yeah, so anyway—McMichael, he’s a Hall of Famer. Chicago Bears legend. You probably heard about him, passed away way too early at 67. Wednesday, Joliet, Illinois. Poor guy, he was in hospice care battling that awful A.L.S., you know, Lou Gehrig’s disease. It’s this horrible condition—it just seems so unfair.
The Bears dropped the news. So, this guy did 15 seasons in the N.F.L. But those 13 years with the Bears during the 80s? Oh man, specifically 1985? You would’ve thought they were auditioning for some gladiatorial league. They were wild with their so-called 46 defense—Buddy Ryan was the mad genius pulling the strings. They dominated, and I mean DOMINATED. Eight defenses just charging at opponents—like, out of control! The Cowboys took a beating they hadn’t seen in their whole 26-year existence then—44-0, can you freaking believe it?
Okay, picture this: That game alone, McMichael snagged one of his 92.5 career sacks (how do you even get half a sack?). Anyway, that put him right beneath Richard Dent in Bears’ lore. And let’s face it, by most accounts that game wasn’t even a competition—more like a sad country song. Even Tom Landry, the Dallas dude in charge, called it a “country licking.” Good luck unseeing that image.
Chicago, though, yeah, they only stumbled once that season against the Dolphins. Totally smoked the Patriots in Super Bowl XX. Scoreline was… what was it again? Ah, 46-10—New Orleans, Louisiana Superdome. Fun times, eh?
McMichael was, by today’s measures, not huge—6-foot-2, 270 pounds. But get this, he was this force of nature with more strength packed in him than seemed possible. It was like an anomaly or a marvel of physics. Even Hampton remarked how McMichael seemed to defy physics. That’s some next-level praise there.
You know, McMichael had this whole exaggerated persona—nicknames like some comic book villain or, um, a Blazing Saddles henchman, if you’ve seen that Mel Brooks flick. “Ming the Merciless,” “Mongo,” and so many wild stories tied to him. Remember that run-in with Patriots? Kinda hilarious hindsight, him being the supposed ‘bad boy’ back in the day.
Fast forward—okay, not really fast, end of N.F.L. days, he waltzes into pro wrestling. Five years of pile-driving folks—bet they didn’t know what hit ’em! But backtracking now, McMichael had this upbringing in Texas, troubled-start, you know, parental divorce when he was very young, taking his stepdad’s last name. That’s one heck of a journey from Freer, Texas.
Between stellar football moments—got all his credentials, All-American, Hall of Fame—then personal life: Debra Marshall, first marriage. Misty Davenport, his second. A child, Macy. Life sure kept him on his toes.
So, around 2020, things took the south turn: sensations in arms. A.L.S., a merciless disease. Kept his humor, though, even joked about it. But, how life shakes out, got that Pro Football Hall of Fame recognition in 2024—physically couldn’t attend the thing, but his spirit? Oh, that soared high.
George McCaskey hit the nail on the head saying McMichael showed inner strength even against time’s cruel hand. A bittersweet end to a lifetime of breathtaking highs and devastating lows. That’s far too real, man.
