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ORLANDO, Fla. – Those closest to Darryl Talley are terrified. His wife, daughters and former teammates openly cry for him. They lament what has befallen him. They dread what his future might hold. ¶ Talley’s life is in tatters. Loved ones say his mind is deteriorating. He’s begrudgingly starting to agree. ¶ He’s 54, but his body is a wreck and continues to crumble. He suspects collisions from playing linebacker for 14 NFL seasons, a dozen with the Buffalo Bills, have damaged his brain. He’s often depressed beyond the point of tears. ¶ He’s bitter at the National Football League for discarding him and denying that he’s too disabled to work anymore. He says the Bills have jilted him, too. ¶ He learned after he retired that he’d played with a broken neck. ¶ He had a heart attack in his 40s. ¶ He lost his business. The bank foreclosed on the Talleys’ home of 17 years. Against her husband’s pride, Janine Talley has accepted money from friends to pay the bills. ¶ He contemplates killing himself.
“I’ve thought about it,” Darryl Talley flatly said last month on the patio of the house he and Janine rent. “When you go through the s--- that I’ve gone through, you start to wonder: Is this really worth it? Is it worth being here, worth being tortured anymore?
“It would be just as easy to call it a day. But there are two reasons why I won’t. First of all, my parents didn’t raise a coward. The most important is I want to be around for my grandkids.”
Bruce Smith is among those most frightened for Talley.
Although they thrived alongside each other during the franchise’s glory days and consider themselves brothers forever, Smith isn’t willing to trust Talley’s rationalizations.
“A moment of weakness, a moment of darkness, a moment of hopelessness,” Smith said from his home in Virginia. “Those are pretty powerful things that can come into play that makes one forget about how we were raised or what state we would leave the rest of the family and friends in.”
Talley, like Smith and the rest of their mates from the Super Bowl era, maintain a mythological presence with Bills fans. They’re like superheroes leaping off the pages of a Marvel comic book. One of Talley’s trademarks was the Spider-Man ski suit he wore under his uniform.
Buffalo’s football legends, however, are not indestructible cartoon characters. They are mortals, as we’ve been reminded through Jim Kelly’s cancer ordeal or 50-year-old Kent Hull’s death from liver failure in 2011.
Talley is the first Bill from the Super Bowl years to disclose ominous mental, physical and financial difficulties seemingly rooted in playing football.
“I never thought this would be our life, but this is the reality of it,” Janine Talley said. She met Darryl at West Virginia University; they’ve been together 34 years. “I don’t see it getting any better. This’ll kill him one way or the other.
“His mental issues have accelerated a lot in the last year. I don’t know what the future holds for either one of us. I don’t know if in a few years dementia will set in. I don’t know if I’ll be able to care for him.”
Gabrielle Talley, the younger of their two daughters, said through tears, “Hope is not in abundance right now.”
“I’ve thought about it,” Darryl Talley flatly said last month on the patio of the house he and Janine rent. “When you go through the s--- that I’ve gone through, you start to wonder: Is this really worth it? Is it worth being here, worth being tortured anymore?
“It would be just as easy to call it a day. But there are two reasons why I won’t. First of all, my parents didn’t raise a coward. The most important is I want to be around for my grandkids.”
Bruce Smith is among those most frightened for Talley.
Although they thrived alongside each other during the franchise’s glory days and consider themselves brothers forever, Smith isn’t willing to trust Talley’s rationalizations.
“A moment of weakness, a moment of darkness, a moment of hopelessness,” Smith said from his home in Virginia. “Those are pretty powerful things that can come into play that makes one forget about how we were raised or what state we would leave the rest of the family and friends in.”
Talley, like Smith and the rest of their mates from the Super Bowl era, maintain a mythological presence with Bills fans. They’re like superheroes leaping off the pages of a Marvel comic book. One of Talley’s trademarks was the Spider-Man ski suit he wore under his uniform.
Buffalo’s football legends, however, are not indestructible cartoon characters. They are mortals, as we’ve been reminded through Jim Kelly’s cancer ordeal or 50-year-old Kent Hull’s death from liver failure in 2011.
Talley is the first Bill from the Super Bowl years to disclose ominous mental, physical and financial difficulties seemingly rooted in playing football.
“I never thought this would be our life, but this is the reality of it,” Janine Talley said. She met Darryl at West Virginia University; they’ve been together 34 years. “I don’t see it getting any better. This’ll kill him one way or the other.
“His mental issues have accelerated a lot in the last year. I don’t know what the future holds for either one of us. I don’t know if in a few years dementia will set in. I don’t know if I’ll be able to care for him.”
Gabrielle Talley, the younger of their two daughters, said through tears, “Hope is not in abundance right now.”
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