Angel answers the prayers of Football's Dirtiest Player
By Dan O'Neill
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Sunday, Feb. 11 2007
In 1977, Conrad Dobler graced the cover of Sports Illustrated
accompanied by
the unflattering headline "Pro Football's Dirtiest Player." He
wore the label
like a badge of honor. He was brash, colorful and reckless.
"When you're young, you're invincible, you're superman," Dobler
said. "Donny
Anderson told me once, 'Your body can't take all that punishment.
I learned to
get out of bounds.' And I said, 'Well, you're just a (wimp). Play
the game like
a man."
Dobler was a three-time All-Pro offensive lineman for the "Cardiac
Cardinals"
in the mid-1970s. His life - and his outlook -have changed
dramatically since.
On July 4, 2001, his wife fell out of a hammock and became
paralyzed from the
neck down. Five years of therapy later, Joy Dobler has made
progress, but her
paralysis remains severe.
Dobler himself is a physical wreck. Last year alone, he had seven
surgeries on
his right knee. He developed a staph infection in the right knee
and doctors
feared they would not be able to save the leg. He was on an IV for
nine months.
During that same period, doctors found he had a pulmonary
embolism. They told
No. 66 he might have only days to live, but he recovered. Through
it all,
Dobler somehow has kept his sense of humor.
"It's been tough - tough on my kids, tough on my wife," said
Dobler, who has
six children. The financial burden on the Doblers has been
overwhelming. In the
initial year of Joy's treatment alone, the cost was $18,000 a
month. Today's
NFL player might carry that around as pocket change, but Dobler
never made a
ton of money. His first contract with the Cardinals in 1972 was
for $17,000.
His top salary was $130,000 with Buffalo.
Dobler built a successful business, Superior Healthcare Staffing.
But he has
had to downsize and sell most of his assets to pay medical bills
that keep
coming.
With its insidious disregard for former players, the NFL is no
help. The
league, the players and the union jettison former gladiators like
they are
biodegradable orange peels. "Out of 7,000 former players who
played in the NFL,
about 144 have been declared eligible for disability," Dobler said.
"Statistically, it is the safest industry in the world to get
involved in."
You would think there is a better chance of a Wal-Mart greeter
being hurt in a
handshake. And don't dare suggest otherwise; squeaky wheels like
Dobler never
get oiled. "My disability file is a foot tall and the NFL will do
nothing for
me," Dobler added. "I've been turned down more often than a
mattress at
Marriott."
Into this tragic story rides an unlikely knight. One day the phone
rang at
Dobler's home in Leawood, Kan. On the other end was Glenn Cohen, a
lawyer for
Phil Mickelson. Cohen informed Dobler that his client had become
aware of the
situation and wanted to help by paying for his daughter's college
education.
Holli Dobler is now a sophomore at Miami University in Ohio. It's
an expensive
ticket, but it is the school of her choice, a school she is able
to attend
because of Mickelson's generosity. Conrad Dobler has never met
Phil Mickelson,
never even talked to him.
"I asked his lawyer, 'Why is he doing this? I don't even know
Phil,' " Dobler
said. "He said, 'Because he can.'
"You know, I was raised a Catholic and everyone used to say there
is an angel
someplace looking out after you. You never take it seriously and
then something
like this happens. It forces you to have a different perspective."
The NFL's outrageous lack of accountability is an important
message here. They
who are living so lavishly in pro football's house are responsible
to those who
are paying the mortgage with pain pills, surgeries and prosthetics.
At the same time, the Mickelson sidebar is a beacon, evidence that
there is
still some humility and decency among sports figures. The winner
of 29 PGA Tour
events and three major championships, Mickelson also contributes
$100 per
birdie and $500 per eagle to Birdies for the Brave, which forwards
the money to
Homes for Our Troops and Special Operations Warrior Foundation.
Both are
organizations that support wounded soldiers and families that have
lost loved
ones in combat.
Mickelson does that in a public way, to raise awareness, invite
additional
contributions. When asked about assisting the Doblers, Mickelson
politely
declines to comment. He's not looking for publicity, just looking
to help. He
has even included cost of living increases in his contributions.
Holli Dobler takes nothing for granted. She works as a waitress
between her 19
hours of classes. She maintains a 3.8 grade-point average and e-
mails Mickelson
regular reports on her progress.
Recently, Glenn Cohen called again. Mickelson has invited the
Doblers to be
guests at The Memorial Tournament in May and asked Holli to walk
the course
with him during practice rounds. It will be an opportunity for the
Doblers to
say thanks, and Conrad isn't sure he'll be able to get the words out.
"I don't know if I can do it without getting choked up," he said.
"You ask
yourself, 'Why me?' There are a lot of other people who need help.
My wife
spends a lot of time raising money for spinal cord injuries, but
we never felt
we'd be on the receiving end. He's a remarkable person."
Or maybe he's more than that. Maybe he's an angel.