December 31, 2010: Kepley says Tony Proudfoot “never quit”

Brent Pushkarenko

12/31/2010

Former CFL stars are paying tribute to another, as they prepare to welcome 2011.

Former Montreal Alouettes’ and B.C. Lions’ defensive back Tony Proudfoot succumbed to ALS, or “Lou Gehrig’s Disease” Thursday.

A fellow CFL all-star during his playing days, long-time Eskimos’ linebacker Danny Kepley admired a lot of qualities in Proudfoot, both on and off the field.

“He battled that horrendous disease the same way he battled on the football field,” said Kepley, who learned of Proudfoot’s death Friday morning. “He did it with class and with dignity. He was not going to quit. He was not going to give up on football or ALS, and unfortunately, some times you win and some times you lose, and (this time), Tony lost one.”

Kepley recalls the many battles his Eskimos had with Montreal in the Grey Cup.

via: http://www.inews880.com/Channels/Reg/LocalNews/story.aspx?ID=1337126

December 17, 2010: Former CFLer Ribbins, 63

Peter Ribbins, a teammate of two other Burlington products, Ian Sunter and Tony Gabriel of the 1973 Hamilton Tiger-Cats, died last Sunday at the age of 63.

Ribbins, a former Burlington Braves junior standout, played most of his Canadian Football League career with the Winnipeg Blue Bombers, but also saw action with the Ticats and the Edmonton Eskimos.

A wide receiver/defensive back, Ribbins tied a CFL record by intercepting four passes in one game with the Bombers in 1972. The record was subsequently broken when another Bomber, Rod Hill, picked off five passes in a 1990 game.

Ribbins died from complications of Parkinson’s Disease after an eight-year battle. He lived the past three decades in the Cayman Islands and leaves his wife, Siobhan, and three children.

via:  http://www.insidehalton.com/sports/article/918703–former-cfler-ribbins-63

December 15, 2010: Tony Proudfoot, ALS-Stricken CFL Legend, Bids Farewell in Open Letter

Editor’s note: The Montreal Gazette has graciously allowed FanHouse to publish an excerpt of Tony Proudfoot‘s heartfelt farewell. The entirety of Proudfoot’s final message can be read on the Montreal Gazette Web site. Donations can be made to “The Tony Proudfoot Fund” in conjunction with The ALS Society of Quebec. 

The last time I wrote for The Gazette, in April 2010, I was anticipating that I might not make it to another Christmas. Here it is, early December, same year, and my circumstances are certainly clearer. As the Walrus says, “The time has come” literally and figuratively, and I would like to “talk of many things.”

Why has ALS come into my life? What can I do with my body as it slowly deteriorates? When will my time actually be, given that ALS is a definitive death sentence? These are all thoughts that come to mind.

Who Is Tony Proudfoot?

Tony Proudfoot is a legend of the Canadian Football League and, specifically, the Montreal Alouettes. Over a 40-year professional relationship with the Alouettes, Proudfoot carved out a special place in the hearts of Montreal football fans, first as a player over nine of his 12 CFL seasons — two of them as a CFL All-Star defensive back — and later as a coach, game analyst, broadcaster and, in his own words, cheerleader.

In May 2007, at the age of 57, Proudfoot was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis, also known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease.Characterized as bulbar onset ALS, this type of ALS first targets the motor neurons that control speech, swallowing and breathing.

Shortly after his diagnosis, Proudfoot penned a first-person story for theMontreal Gazette detailing the path ahead of him and his “bucket list,” the goals he wanted to focus on in the 3-5 years doctors told him he had left to live. Those goals revolved around the love of his family, his relationships with the people around him, making a difference in the fight against ALS and perhaps most importantly, enjoying every day he had left.

Since then, Proudfoot has written periodic updates for the Gazette, often during the holiday season, updating fans and readers on his battle with ALS. On Wednesday, just over 3 1/2 years since his diagnosis, Proudfoot penned his final letter in the Gazette, saying goodbye and bidding farewell to his legions of fans, supporters and admirers.Focusing on my next breath requires all of my energy. I am starved of air and oxygen and need to rely on a ventilator just to feel stable, just to live. I am now on my ventilator up to 22 hours per day, often going off one, to walk slowly to another room to attach myself to another.

At the beginning, without any answers and none forthcoming, I chose to take the high road and be as positive as I could possibly be and live the life I had left to the fullest. I also worked hard to raise awareness of ALS and support research into its cause and elimination. To date, more than half a million dollars has been raised for the ALS Tony Proudfoot Fund that may some day help the thousands of people in Canada who are dying. Unfortunately, there are no concrete results that can help me yet. Research efforts have moved forward significantly. I am very proud of that.

So, in the twilight of my life, I’ve been asked to reflect on my plight.

First, let me say how great the Alouettes were this year, Grey Cup champs once again and a huge part of my “up” days and enjoyment. They are a hard habit to kick, and my 40-year association with them in a variety of capacities, from player to coach, game analyst, broadcaster and now chief cheerleader (I wore my good luck Als tuque from the ’74 Cup, during this year’s game) has been a fantastic run.

I want to thank the Alouettes for everything they’ve done. You have no idea how much of a booster they have been to me. What can you say about people like Marc Trestman and Ben Cahoon, who came to visit me independently, just days after winning the Big One, to share their excitement and thoughts on the game and the whole experience? Ben even gave me his Grey Cup Champion hat! My broadcast partner Rick Moffat stopped by with a Grey Cup football, excellent!

They all knew I so wanted to be there with them, and to partake in their joy. Those who visited let me do it through osmosis. How about the support of special people like Anthony Calvillo and Davis Sanchez and literally dozens of others, way too numerous to name, but not to forget?

I know this will be my last December update. Right now, I’m hanging on for Christmas, and it’s a tough slog and not a guarantee.

Let’s recap the last few years of articles:

In May of 2007, my wife Vicki and I received the devastating, terrifying news that I have Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), a terminal illness that typically runs its course in three to five years. That was not quite four years ago, and I now know I will not reach that five-year plateau. I put together my personal bucket list, not in selfish terms of traveling or seeing wonders of the world, but more personal. Four goals:

No. 1: Support my wife and family and relish in their love and support.

No. 2: Make the relationships I have better, by being responsive to every friend, acquaintance and individual and each issue.

No. 3: Make a difference in ALS awareness and improve fundraising efforts.

No. 4: A very personal, positive mantra: Suck it up and get on with life (remember, no whining allowed!) and enjoy every day. What other option do any of us really have?

Read the remainder of Proudfoot’s emotional farewell on the Montreal Gazette website. Donations can be made to “The Tony Proudfoot Fund” in conjunction with The ALS Society of Quebec.

 

October 9, 2010: Riders legend Jay Roberts left beautiful gift

First CFLer to donate brain, spinal cord for research

With a late-night melancholy rain beating against his hospital room window, Jay Roberts, thin, wasted, all alone, drew the last breath of his 67 years on earth, but through his death the former splendid tight end for the Ottawa Rough Riders left a special and beautiful gift few knew he’d be leaving.

He donated – the only CFL player ever to do so – his brain and spinal cord for further medical research into the recent discovery of the link between brain trauma in bodily contact sports and the onset of dementia, Alzheimer’s, Lou Gehrig’s Disease, and similar afflictions that can lead to death.

The laboratory program is that of a team of neurosurgeons led by Dr. Charles Tator, professor of neurosurgery at the University of Toronto, and renowned expert in brain and spinal cord injuries.

“It doesn’t surprise me that Jay did this,” says his sister, and only sibling, Dawn Ross, a real estate agent in Texas. “It’s totally consistent with his beliefs. Our late mother donated her entire body for the betterment of mankind, and mine will be, too.”

Although Roberts had been suffering from aggressive small-cell lung cancer, he also had circulatory problems, and blood clots – one close to the brain, inoperable – and growing dementia, which Dawn Ross first noticed a few years back.

A fine player for football’s University of Kansas Jayhawks, and the Rough Riders from 1964-70 with hands of glue, he’d sustained numerous concussions, but back then they were dismissed as part of the game – “seeing stars” or “getting your bell rung,” and you were expected to keep playing.

Jay’s only son, Jed, 42, a former defensive tackle for the Eskimos, and now assistant manager in that city of Bosco Homes group-care facility for children with behavioural issues, says his father, after football, was giving a speech one time when he had to leave the podium.

“His mind suddenly wasn’t processing what he was saying. He couldn’t remember what he’d just said. For 36 hours, he was right out of it.”

Jed, his sisters Kelly and Kim – scattered across Canada and the U.S. – and Dawn, spoke to Jay for the final time last Sunday, four days before he died.

Roberts’ close friend Brian Doyle, the novelist and ex-high school English teacher who visited him three and four times a week, phoned them because Jay – who’d held on for months beyond the initial prognosis of death – was not expected to make it through the night.

Jay was not cognizant, he couldn’t communicate, he couldn’t hold a phone, but Doyle held the phone to his ear when each of them called to say their final farewells. It has been said that hearing is one of the last things to go. “Whether he blinked or not, I don’t know,” says Doyle.

“I told him,” says Jed, “how much I loved him, and thanks for always believing in me.”

Jed Roberts was born with severe hearing impairment. He grew up having to wear obtrusive hearing aids. As a boy, in childhood’s sensitive years, he was embarrassed, often bitter, prone to bouts of why me, and self pity.

One day, when Jed was 12, his father took him for a ride. “Dad wouldn’t tell me where we were going.” The father deposited his son in front of a house. He told him to knock on the door, there was a surprise awaiting, and that he’d be back to get him in a few hours. Jay Roberts drove away.

“I knocked on the door, it swung open, and a man was on the floor. He had no legs. He smiled and invited me in. I had no idea who he was.”

Jed and the man with no legs spent the afternoon together. They played board games. The man took Jed to a golf driving range. He took him fishing. He played catch with him.

“Everything we did he did far better than I could,” says Jed. “He creamed me. He was amazing. And his attitude, it was always so upbeat and happy. When I left there I never ever felt sorry for myself again. My dad had set the whole thing up.”

The man with no legs was Karl Hilzinger. He’d been a Canadian running back for the Rough Riders in the late 1950s, his career ended when he lost both legs above the knees in a car accident. Skiing, swimming, golf, baseball – there was little double amputee Karl Hilzinger couldn’t do, and do with such joie de vivre.

Jay Roberts – unlucky in love; married four times – wasn’t blessed financially after football. Part native American Indian (he became a Canadian citizen), he worked for a period in Ottawa at the Department of Indian Affairs. His modest government pension combined with the OAS were it.

Before the severity of his illness took hold, he lived with friends, a couple, in their house. Basically, he died broke. But wealth to him wasn’t money, it was people, and to know long, tall, Jay Roberts with the embracing heart, smiling blue eyes, and snaggle-toothed smile that lit up his face was to love him, and he loved right back, he was worth a fortune in friends.

Many of them were women because, says Brian Doyle: “They knew they were safe with Jay. He didn’t come on to them, he wasn’t a skirt chaser. Just a big, loveable, easy-going, caring, friendly guy.”

Jed Roberts: “My dad collected friends. He told me the greatest gift of all was finding common ground with everyone you meet.”

Those words say it all about Jay Roberts – great football player, greater guy, a “celebration-of-his-life” memorial service being planned, tributes to be made at colefuneralservices.com.

Contact McRae at earl.mcrae@sunmedia.ca or leave a message at 613-739-5133, ext. 469.

 

Via:  http://www.ottawasun.com/news/columnists/earl_mcrae/2010/10/09/15643246.html