NFL

O.J. Brigance Inspires Baltimore's 'Mighty Men' Through Battle With ALS

OJ BriganceBALTIMORE -- A linebacker who won a Super Bowl ring with the Baltimore Ravens has been called ''the strongest man in the building ... it's not even close'' by head coach John Harbaugh. He isn't talking about Ray Lewis.

O.J. Brigance hasn't worn a Ravens uniform in nine years, or been an active player in seven. The strength Harbaugh refers to has been on display for the last two years as Brigance has battled Lou Gehrig's disease, and as he has done so, he has united and inspired the Ravens in ways nobody else ever has.

Said Spencer Folau, one of Brigance's teammates on the 2000 Ravens team that won Super Bowl XXXV, ''What Ray does on the field, (O.J.) does off the field.''

Brigance, the Ravens' player development director since 2004, hasn't confined his inspiration to his team -- since being diagnosed with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS) in May 2007, he has driven himself to raise money and awareness about the disease, and started a foundation, the Brigance Brigade, with his wife, Chanda. That foundation was the beneficiary of a fundraiser Tuesday night at M&T Bank Stadium (video below), which doubled as Brigance's 40th birthday party. Nearly the entire organization, from owner Steve Bisciotti to the players and staff, was expected to attend -- much the same way the whole team showed up at a charity road race for which Brigance was honorary chairman in 2008.

It is the least they could do, they all say, because despite his increasing physical struggles -- listed at 6 feet and 236 pounds in his prime, his body has withered, his speech has become hampered, and he gets around in a motorized wheelchair – Brigance still shows up daily in his office at the Ravens' suburban practice complex, still attends practice, and still performs his job of helping players handle, and capitalize on, reaching the NFL.

The sight of the chair in the hallway leading to the locker room is, for the Ravens and anyone else in the building, the sign that Brigance is back at work. It makes their own physical and personal ailments more manageable.

"He's there every day. He's an inspiration every day,'' said tight end Todd Heap, in his ninth year with the Ravens. "It doesn't take any effort to look down and see he's there every time. It means a lot to the guys in this locker room.

"But you realize the type of character he has, the reasons why he does it: to be an example, not just to people who are going through what he's going through, but to show us, whatever you want to put your mind to is possible.''

Even at full strength, as an undrafted player out of Rice University who began his 12-year pro career in Canada and won both a Super Bowl and a Grey Cup (both in Baltimore, coincidentally; the Stallions won the league title in 1995), Brigance never seemed to acknowledge limits. When he joined the Ravens' front office, he didn't accept them from players, pushing them to get their degrees and be more mature and professional; his department has been recognized for its work by the NFL and the players' union numerous times.



The limits he faces now are much more severe; the worst is that no cure has yet been found for ALS, which can paralyze the muscles and lungs and kills most of its sufferers within five years. The deeply spiritual Brigance, however, insisted on a number of things when he went public with his illness -- first to the Ravens and then to everybody else. One, he said, he would beat the disease. Two, he wanted to be treated the same way he always had been, because he would keep treating others the same.

Three, he would keep working.

"I still come to work every day I can because I determined in my heart a while ago to keep on living,'' Brigance said last week via email, an easier way for him to currently communicate. "There are days that are tougher than others, but by God's grace I am strengthened. For me, it is selfish coming in to work. The Ravens have been a blessing, because they have made whatever modifications necessary to allow me to continue. I have been given an abundant life, and I refuse to let it go until my Creator says so.''

To hear him call himself "selfish" would bring a laugh from the players and others, because to a person, they say that he asks about them and their lives before they get to ask how he's doing. That mindset led to cornerback Samari Rolle winning 2007's annual Ed Block Courage Award, a Baltimore tradition honoring those on each NFL team who overcome adversity. It was not that Rolle, who had returned from a bout with epilepsy that season, did not deserve it; it was that Brigance, who won the vote by the Ravens players, demanded that it be given to Rolle instead. (He accepted one from the organization a year later.)

Brigance's insistence on going to work, meanwhile, meant that he never changed plans to travel to road games. He attended the Ravens' final road game last season, the Cowboys' last game at Texas Stadium, which came a
week after a crushing Baltimore loss to Pittsburgh at home. He spoke to the team beforehand and, after a dramatic victory that all but clinched a playoff berth, Harbaugh credited Brigance first in his postgame comments. (Not long after that, in the Baltimore Sun, he called Brigance "the strongest man in the building.")



Being present at road games was a must from then on, so Brigance traveled to Miami, then to Tennessee, then to Pittsburgh for the AFC title game. After the 13-10 nail-biter over the Titans, Brigance was given the game ball by the choked-up players.

"The Titan game reminded me of my battle against ALS,'' he said. "Many thought it would be impossible for the Ravens to win that game. However, there were a group of Mighty Men who believed 'With God all things are possible.' For most of the game, it was a battle, but in the end, they overcame their circumstances to live on [in the playoffs]. Receiving the game ball was symbolic of not giving in, no matter what the situation looks like on the outside."

From that 2008 Week 16 game in Dallas through a 2009 Week 3 home win over Cleveland, including the playoffs, the Ravens are 7-1.

O.J. BriganceHarbaugh, who knew Brigance only by reputation when he became head coach last season (and who got into the habit of referring to the players as "mighty men" early on), was swept away by Brigance's presence and the sight of his battles. He has treated him like a de facto assistant coach. "We talk about the spirit of our football team, and O.J. is the core of that spirit right now,'' he said last week. "He's about relationships, even with the rookies who hadn't seen him at 245 pounds of twisted blue steel. But his spirit is 2,000 pounds of twisted blue steel, and our team sees that every single day, and that's what makes us strong."

Yet Brigance might not be drawing quite the outpouring of love and support for his fight with ALS had he not shown those qualities before he became ill. He did not discover his deep faith just when he was diagnosed. "Oh, it's always been there,'' said Mark Clayton, the Ravens' fifth-year wide receiver. "He's always been passionate about his job, about what he did, about helping young men develop into men."

Folau, a teammate for only the one season, recalled that Brigance would not only prod players to keep the cursing to a minimum around him, but had a knack for putting even dire situations in perspective. When Folau was released the year after the Super Bowl, he said, Brigance -- who also had been released -- told him to focus on his then-new family and that if he had faith, the football would take care of itself. Not long afterward, Folau was signed by another team.

"It happened just like that. It was amazing," said Folau, who now does broadcasting and high-school coaching in the Baltimore area. "He's someone you look up to. We were the same age, but he felt like a big brother."

Brigance maintained that role after his diagnosis. Chanda, married to him for 15 years -- among her other attributes, he said, she "has not allowed me to have pity parties" -- partners with him now on his foundation, not only to raise awareness and money for research, but to defray the enormous costs for other patients. The foundation is tied to the Packard Center for ALS Research at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore. Late last season, the long-planned reunion of the Colts players from the 1958 "Greatest Game Ever Played" made the Brigance Brigade a beneficiary.

He has heard from a broad cross-section of just about everyone he ever knew, from his childhood throughout his career, since becoming ill. "I guess the most special thing to me is not a particular person, but [that] they all have a memory of how we made a positive impact on each others' lives," he said.

As the birthday fundraiser approached, teams all over the NFL chipped in with auction items, thanks to individuals' ties to Brigance. Helmets, shoes, game tickets and the like came in from team officials who knew and worked with Brigance during his CFL days; they join memorabilia from Ravens, Colts and Orioles, including Cal Ripken.

Said Mike Gathagan, one of the event organizers and the public relations director when Brigance played for the Stallions, "When you mention the name O.J. Brigance, people jump at the chance to help him."

Brigance has never stopped trying to help others right back. Continuing to come to work during the most challenging stretch of his life is only part of it.

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