Why Urlacher Was Really One of a Kind

I've only met Brian Urlacher a few times, but following his announcment that he'd retired from the National Football League, I felt compelled to share a story with you all.

It was about seven years ago now I found myself sitting at the front desk of a very small business in the north suburbs of Chicago one cool Fall morning ... a window tinting company actually.

I'd been hired by them part-time to assist with customers, work in the back on cars, etc.

As I peered out the large glass front window, I noticed two men exit a white Cadillac Escalade. I did a double take.

"Is that...?" I asked myself quietly yet aloud.

Sure was. There was Urlacher approaching my front door, along with his younger brothey Casey, (who is now the Mayor of Mettawa, Illinois and all its 547 residents, by the way). Both were wearing white baseball caps and black sweatpants. If not for the 6-4 Urlacher being much taller, the brothers easily could've passed for twins.

In they walked.



"I'd like to make an appointment," Brian said.

"Your name?" I asked.

"Brian," he said.

"Your last name Brian?" I followed.

The sheer look of confusion that had just washed over his face was priceless. About to reply I interrputed him.

"I'm just messing with you dude," I said. "I know who you are."

Roaring laughter followed from the three of us. Good ole' heartfelt laughter.

The next day, when his vehicle was finished, he had his ex-wife come in with two of his beautiful children. Disappointed I wouldn't see him again, I informed my boss as I heard her call him up on the phone.

Despite her reassuring him that he didn't have to come into the shop, less than five minutes later, there he was again in the office. Letting his kids play with my boss's dog. Asking me questions about how we do the work we do.

Moments later, it was time to write him up a receipt. I also had a football waiting for him to sign.

"I'm not supposed to do this, so please don't tell my bosses," I said. "Could you sign this for me man?"

Without hesitation, he nodded and reached toward the marker I held. I then accidentally left a three-inch mark on his hand. Before I could apologize, he leaned down and smiled.

"It's ok," Urlacher said. "Who would you like me to make the signature out to?"

Almost an hour he stood there, hanging with us in the office. My boss then asked me to pull his second vehicle around the building that had been in for servicing. I agreed and did.

Upon handing Brian his keys, he looked at me and said "So, like how it handles?" It was a blue Mercedes AMG hardtop convertible.

Stunned, and nearly speechless, I tried to think of something clever yet professional.

"I'm not even trying to beat on your car dude," I told him with a laugh. "And don't forget you left your playbook in the back seat. I'm guessing that's important."

Talk about trust.

Why do I share this story? Not to name drop. Although it was pretty cool meeting the guy, obviously. But to illustrate a much larger point about this man.

On the football field, I could write about the countless things he did, the endless accolades.

But people liked Brian Urlacher not just for his football, but equally for the kinds of stories Chicagoans everywhere have that are similar to mine above. He will be remembered as one of the most storied players not just in Bears history, but NFL history as well. And as a man who cared.

People could relate to him. The fact he was a parent. The fact that if you stopped to talk to him, you felt like he was actually listening. And the fact that whenever this man found time, he was giving back to kids and charitable causes.

Sure, this is how people are supposed to act. With respect, class, honor, dignity --- and with leadership. Traits Urlacher all displayed every time he walked onto a football field, a locker room, or even your neighborhood grocery store.

In an era of spoiled, whiny celebrities, Brian Urlacher was a breath of fresh air. While not perfect or free from scandal, Urlacher off the field was always the consumate "everyman." One who did his best not to let success change him. One who belongs on the first ballot Hall of Fame.

One who never forgot he's just like you or me.

That, my friends, is as important as anything as far as I'm concerned to his legacy. Forget his harsh words for the Bears organization weeks ago when they refused to re-sign his battered body. That was the gamer in Brian, the fuel that fired him speaking out.

Some things will never change. This is one of them. They way it should be. A winner. A role model for kids.

Brian Urlacher: A Chicago Bear for life.

Thank you, sir.