FMIA holiday special: Steelers’ Cam Heyward and the art of giving back

Merry Christmas! I hope it’s been a wonderful weekend for all, and a peaceful weekend for all. And I hope the combination of football and the holiday has been fun, if you’re watching. Some big ones today too.

This is my first NFL weekend off in 40 years. Feels revolutionary. NBC offered me my own personal bye week at Christmas last spring as we discussed my 2023 season contract, and I took it. This column was written Thursday as I flew west for a family Christmas in Berkeley, Calif. It’s a different kind of column. Shorter, for one thing. And topical—if you consider writing about goodness topical for the most wonderful time of the year.

As I’ve covered the league over the years, I’ve encountered lots of giving, unselfish players and coaches who realize how fortunate they are in this life, and who want to do things to say thanks for that good fortune. A month or so ago, NBC asked me to conjure up a feature for this weekend’s games on NBC and Peacock. I chose Pittsburgh defensive end Cam Heyward, 34, in his 13^th season as a Steeler. The TV story for Saturday’s “Football Night in America” show is embedded in this column. For those interested in my take on Heyward in words, that’s what this week’s column is. I’ll be back next Monday, New Year’s Day, with a regular column.

I’m glad to throw a changeup this week, because it’s good to celebrate one of the good people in the game, and to realize it’s okay to get off the weekly treadmill once in a great while.

To answer a likely question: Why Cam Heyward, over the scores of good-deed-doers around the NFL?

One of the things that drew me to Heyward is the great number of causes he’s taken on that are not the usual athlete causes; some are directly related to paying homage to his dad, Craig “Ironhead” Heyward, the former NFL fullback who died of a brain tumor in 2006, when Cam was a high-school junior. Craig Heyward had one suit for his high school and college years, so the son has established rooms he calls “Craig’s Closet” in 11 Pittsburgh public high schools; Cam Heyward goes into each school to talk to impressionable boys and help fit them in the suits. He funded a grief group to counsel boys and girls and spouses who’ve lost a mom or dad or sibling; this year, he did art therapy with grieving children. In honor of his maternal grandparents, both of whom taught in Pittsburgh public schools, Heyward has helped build four free little libraries in underserved neighborhoods. This year, he recorded book-readings for patients in a children’s hospital too sick to leave their room, so they could have Cam Heyward read them stories. He has hosted teacher appreciation dinners for public school teachers. He advises high school students who are making their way through a Pittsburgh school with an elevated rate of violence. Every year, he performs seven daily acts of kindness around the city in “Cam’s Kindness Week.”

“In the two decades that I’ve been at Pittsburgh Public Schools, I have never known a professional athlete to be as hands-on with our students as Cam Heyward has been,” said Merecedes Williams, the system’s director of communications. “I can tell you because I’ve been there: It’s not just a publicity stunt, it’s not to check boxes. It’s him loving and caring for our students.”

That’s why I picked Heyward.

Have a great day.

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PITTSBURGH—It had been a long day. After a very long night.

The Steelers stunk it up against the Patriots on a Thursday night, and the season was headed toward the tank. Heyward had a couple of appointments to fulfill on Friday—one at a Craig’s Closet at the Pittsburgh Academy of Science and Technology near the Pitt campus in Oakland, one at the Steelers facility with a mom and her three boys still striving to cope after the 2018 death of her husband and their father.

Now, a wrench. Friday had originally been an off day. Now Mike Tomlin had the players and coaches coming to work for half a day in the afternoon. So massive rescheduling. Heyward would go to Craig’s Closet for an hour at 10 a.m., then meet at the Steelers facility at dusk with widow Maria Perry and her three boys for some Cam time. I was along for the ride on a (former) in-season off day for Heyward.

Just before he went into meetings—presumably to be chastised for the Steelers losing to the Cards and Patriots at home in short order—I talked to Heyward for 30 minutes about his football life and his other life. We started with a story his mother told me.

One Christmas season for the Heyward family in Georgia, when young Cameron was in kindergarten or first grade, Charlotte Heyward talked to her son about a holiday present for his teacher. Cameron and mom figured that out. But then the boy said, What about Mr. Carl, the custodian, and the lunch ladies, and the teacher’s aide, and the principal … and when the list was finished, there wasn’t one gift to buy. There were 12.

I asked Heyward: “Why did you become a person who wanted to give to so many?”

Heyward, 34, sitting in the Steelers’ offices, not far from the display of six Super Bowl trophies, is the elder statesman of a flagship NFL franchise. It takes him zero seconds to think of an answer. “Because I was one of those people who received so much from so, so many other people,” he said. “When my dad passed away, it was my mom stepping up, the coaches in my life stepping up, the teachers, my friends. So if I don’t go out and do the same for others now, I feel like I’m doing everyone an injustice.”

That’s why it was 5 in the afternoon on this day, and Heyward was playing with Maria Perry’s boys for an hour. He was walking a little stiff. He’d finished a football game 18 hours earlier, playing 48 snaps and recording a sack (career total: 80.5), two pressures and five tackles. But he was throwing and punting and advising with Elijah, 11, Josiah, 9, and Andrew, 5 and it went on for an hour. Maria’s husband died of leukemia in 2018, five days after this little whippet sprinting around the field, Andrew, was born.

The mom without a dad, trying daily to wrangle these three energetic boys through tough times, on the verge of tears watching a star for the Pittsburgh Steelers playing with her kids. It’s emotional just looking at her.

“It’s a lot of life to grow up without a dad,” Maria Perry said, as Heyward threw a bomb to Elijah 30 yards downfield. “And a lot of their friends, even if they don’t have dad in their lives, it’s not because they’ve died. It’s more because they’re not there or they’ve taken off. These other dads, during the soccer games, are on the sidelines, and they’re yelling at the boys or they’re just, you know, there. Or Christmas. To get all the Christmas cards, and my boys don’t have their dad included in the Christmas cards. Those are probably the times that they miss the most. I’m always like, ‘Well, he’s cheering you on from heaven and I know that he’s proud of the men that you’re becoming.’ And I just encourage them that there is still a future for you. I think that gives them glimpses of hope, even when it’s dark.”

She wiped away a tear when Heyward, laughing, gets deked by Elijah.

Man.

A minute later, Heyward looked at the boys running around. “I look at them, and I think of what it was like for my little brother when our dad died,” he said.

The little brother Connor. Now a Steeler tight end. The family ties are pretty amazing. Cam Heyward had to be a dad figure to Connor after their dad died on May 27, 2006. Cam Heyward was 17. Connor was 7. Cam dealt with his dad’s death by watching the news for hours on the crawl on ESPN. Connor had no concept of it at the time. What he knew was his big brother Cam taking over his life. That’s just what you do when your dad dies and you’ve got a big brother who figures he has to take care of his little brother.

Cam Heyward, still watching the Perry boys romp, said: “You have a legacy for your family. I have a legacy for mine. I want people to know I’m a product of loss. Everything I do is because I’ve lost people in my life. I want to make sure these boys know you can still keep battling back. You can continue to keep living your life and making people proud of you.”

Now the best thing Heyward said all day:

“I think I’m leaving breadcrumbs. If I can have a conversation or if I can just be there, I think that can mean a lot to a kid. I don’t know how much, but I want to know that I gave something.”

I asked Maria if I could talk to one of the boys about how they’re feeling without a dad, with what Cam Heyward has meant in these occasional visits. She called over the two older boys, Josiah and Elijah. Josiah, a karate kid with a big interest in baking. Elijah, a soccer player who loves all sports. JoJo, as he’s called, took the lead.

He said, “It just feels good to have someone who understands what it’s like to not have a dad.”

Back to reality. Maria has to get Elijah to a two-hour soccer practice, and Elijah has an 8 a.m. game tomorrow. (Who schedules these things anyway?) But there’s one last thing. Josiah has an Instagram account. He makes cakes. He’s actually made a wedding cake. At 9! He is totally into baking. So there is a deal made: Josiah will make a Christmas cake for Cam Heyward. If the Steelers beat Indianapolis in their next game, Cam gets a free cake. If the Steelers lose, Cam has to pay for it.

“I’ll do that!” Josiah says, and so the bet is on.

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None of this happens without Heyward the football player. A three-time first-team all-pro, Heyward has joined the long Steeler tradition of being great, leading by words and example, and never leaving—something that’s become exceedingly rare in the free-agency era. “His level of professionalism in terms of how he goes about his business and has for such a long period of time is just a blueprint for young guys,” coach Mike Tomlin said. “I think that’s a component of the team that we don’t talk about enough, the modeling component that young guys get an opportunity to watch. Then there’s the talent and play-making and longevity. That’s not mystical. It’s born out of those habits.”

It’s not always gentlemanly. “There’s blackout Cam, when he gets crazy and he gets in this rage,” T.J. Watt said. “I mean, every training camp he gets in a fight. You have to separate him and be like, ‘Dude, just relax. It’s training camp. We know you’re the big dog.’ He’s asserting his dominance.

“He truly wants it. Most of his leadership is by example, but he has his vocal side too. He understands his words carry a lot of weight, and you don’t want to abuse that power. He never does. That’s why when he talks, people listen and people follow.”

There’s something about Heyward’s presence here. It just feels right. When players are drafted, they can go to any of 32 places. Let’s count the way Heyward fits on this team, in this city, in this culture. He came out of Ohio State as a classic 3-4 defensive end, and the Steelers are a 3-4 team. His dad was a college football legend at Pitt. His mom’s from here, the daughter of cornerstone educators in the public schools. The teams in Pittsburgh are interconnected with the city, particularly the Steelers. “When you walk down the street in Pittsburgh on Monday morning,” Dan Rooney used to say, “you can always tell if we won or lost the previous day. You don’t have to ask anybody.” Cam Heyward always wanted to set down roots—he married an Ohio State classmate and they have three children, and they love it here—and not move around as a pro. And there has been one very unexpected bonus.

The little brother he helped raise, Connor, a tight end from Michigan State, is here. The Steelers drafted Connor Heyward in the sixth round last year, and he’s making his way as a backup tight end and special-teamer. Which fills Cam Heyward with pride, and a little bit of regret about what his father is missing.

“I just wish he had a chance to see this, to wear the black and gold as a fan and be proud of us,” Cam Heyward said.

“People think LaVar Ball (father of three pro basketball players) is bad,” Connor Heyward said. “Our dad would have been 10 times worse. That’s how proud he would be right now.”

Ironhead would have been bursting on Dec. 4, 2022. The Steelers were in Atlanta. This is where Ironhead and wife Charlotte raised the family, and now where there was an eerie reunion. The morning of the game, Cam and Connor got permission from Mike Tomlin to visit their dad’s grave. The two boys talked to their dad like he was there. And before the game, Cam Heyward told the team what this game meant to the two Heywards. That afternoon, in the city where their dad scored 19 touchdowns playing for the Falcons, Cam had a third-down sack to force Atlanta to settle for a field goal in the second quarter. On the next series, Connor Heyward, a little-used backup behind Pat Freiermuth, found himself in the huddle, Steelers driving at the Atlanta 17-yard line.

One rookie (quarterback Kenny Pickett) said to another (Connor Heyward), “We’re gonna get you a touchdown.” Heyward lined up to the right of the formation, jab-stepped toward the right pylon, then ran a straight post, easily outrunning the Atlanta safety. Pickett arced a perfect throw for Connor Heyward’s first NFL touchdown.

In the span of five plays, one Heyward had a sack, the other had a touchdown. That’s some kind of day.

Their mom, Charlotte Heyward Wesley, said Craig Heyward would be ecstatic to see two sons playing down the street from his college field. “I wish he could have seen that game in Atlanta,” she said. “To have two sons play here and one be the captain of this storied franchise, I pinch myself and I’m like, ‘Thank you, Lord.’”

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Four days before Christmas. Gift exchange for the players. Cam Heyward doesn’t do gift cards. Last year, he got linemate Larry Ogunjobi a Bernese Mountain Dog puppy. This year, linebacker Alex Highsmith got Heyward’s canine gift: a Bernadoodle. Highsmith named him Ace.

There was another surprise in store on this afternoon. The Perry family came back, and they brought the cake Josiah made for the Heyward family. A four-layer vanilla cake with cookie-dough filling, iced by white chocolate buttercream and chocolate ganache, topped with cookies. It looked like something from the Great British Baking Show.

Josiah, again, is 9.

Nine.

“I bake, and he learned a lot from YouTube videos,” Maria Perry said. “But he did that cake all on his own.”

In the car on the way home, Josiah was flying high. Cam liked the cake. Cam loved the surprise.

“Mom, this is just so cool!” Josiah said, the weight of his world vanishing, on this day anyway. “I actually got to make a cake for Cam! How many 9-year-olds get to make something for a famous person, like one in a million?!”

That’s right. One in a million.

Source: | This article originally belongs to Nbcnews.com