Oct 6, 2002 By Commentary John Mehno 4 min read

PITTSBURGH – Mike Webster was “Iron Mike,” the indestructible Steeler. Every time the offense took the field, No. 52 was the first to trot out. Every time the linemen picked themselves off the ground after a play, No. 52 was the first to get back to the huddle and the one to lead them up to the line of scrimmage. No matter what the temperature, he’d wear a jersey that had its short sleeves tucked underneath the shoulder pads so there was no cloth for a lineman to grab.

He’d stand on the sidelines without a jacket, hands on hips, those massive arms reddened by the cold and the abrasive artificial turf.

That was the Mike Webster the football player.

When he ceased playing, that’s when things got the best of Mike Webster.

He left the Steelers after 1988, seemingly retired. But then he turned up with the Kansas City Chiefs, playing two more seasons.

When it finally came time to give up the game, he stayed on as a coach. That was a natural fit. No one knew more about playing the position than Webster did. He had to.

He was undersized for the position of center, even by 1974 standards. He was 225 pounds and even when he bulked up, he was still many pounds shy of most of the men who played his position.

He conditioned himself maniacally, running the steps at Three Rivers Stadium on hot summer afternoons. He was devoted to his work and had a streak of 150 consecutive starts. That doesn’t mean he was never injured, it means he was able to play through the aches and pains that sidelined others.

Like a lot of offensive linemen, Webster was a thoughtful, soft-spoken man. The hulking men who play on the line are protectors and the job description often meshes with their personality.

Webster was a no-frills guy from Wisconsin, given to wearing jeans, lumberjack shirts and boots to games while some of his teammates wore silk suits and alligator shoes. His shock of blonde hair seemed to be in a constant state of dishevelment.

After an afternoon of knocking heads with other giant men, he’d quietly shake hands with his opponents, then repair to the locker room. He’d offer intelligent answers to questions for as long as anybody wanted to talk.

Webster’s character seemed to be as solid as his body was.

That’s why it came as such as shock when the reports started to filter in after his playing days ended.

He’d become estranged from his family. His behavior became bizarre. He got into the habit of taking a bedroll to the downtown Greyhound bus station when he had nowhere else to sleep.

Security would have booted anyone else, but not one of the Super Bowl Steelers.

Former teammates found out about his plight and tried to help. Webster would tell them he was fine and dismiss their offers. The Steelers have a powerful support system that starts with Dan Rooney and includes long-time executives like Joe Gordon and Ed Kiely. Webster didn’t want any help.

Later, there were news stories detailing problems with drugs. The durability that served him so well as a player helped speed his downfall. He was found to have brain damage, a likely result of the constant collisions.

Things deteriorated so badly that people worried about Webster’s appearance at his Hall of Fame induction.

They were concerned that he’d embarrass himself when he got up to speak. He rambled but he got through the day. Later he was able to support himself appearing at autograph shows.

Just recently his son, a high school football player, alluded to some of his father’s ongoing health problems during a newspaper interview.

When a man dies at 50, it should come as a shock. Sadly, Webster’s passing didn’t. It was a headline that was almost anticipated.

Perhaps the saddest thing is that his friends and former employer wanted to help. They were there for him but Webster consistently spurned their offers. The same dogged determination that made him a Hall of Famer worked against him after his career ended.

Perhaps his death is a reminder that even the strongest people need someone to lean on from time to time.

People will long remember his great career and everything he accomplished to beat the odds and become a standout player.

May he now find the peace that eluded him after football was over.

John Mehno can be reached online at: johnmehno@lycos.com.