In their to-hell-and-back stories, football star Tony Mandarich and fiction’s ‘Bad’ Blake have a lot in common.
They say that truth is stranger than fiction, but there’s also something to be said about this: they can also be very much the same. Bad life choices are a fictional staple. Real life is often that way, too. And in both fiction and life, people can dust themselves off and turn their lives around.
That storyline is the connecting rod between Tony Mandarich, a sure-fire pro football star who wasn’t, and Otis ‘Bad’ Blake, a fictional character in the 2009 award-winning film, Crazy Heart. Their storylines connect most notably in the lyrics of ‘Fallin and Flyin,’ a song in the film about dysfunctional living. Written about Blake, the song could have been Mandarich’s anthem, too.
Jeff Bridges as ‘Bad’ Blake in Crazy Heart (courtesy, Houston Chronicle)
The Mandarich-Blake comparison captured my attention as I watched ESPN’s E:60‘s riveting portrayal of Mandarich. Both characters share the rise to prominence, sudden fall from grace, and–very importantly–eventual redemption.
Let’s consider Blake’s story first. Played by Jeff Bridges, Blake is a once heralded–and now has-been–country music star. The has-been version stumbles through a drug-fueled life as he makes one-night appearances in cities across America.
In one town, Blake meets Jean Craddock (played by Maggie Gyllenhaal), a reporter, who wants to write a feature story about him. She does, and the exchange evolves into a torrid love affair. The relationship eventually ends when Blake’s pathologies prove to be more than Craddock can take. But rather than doom Blake, the breakup inspires him to get straight.
In ‘Fallin and Flyin,’ Blake (Bridges) sings about his miserable and painful existence. With words and music written by Stephen Bruton and Gary Nicholson, the song well describes what happens when people fall into dysfunctional lifestyles.
I was goin’ where I shouldn’t go
Seein’ who I shouldn’t see
Doin’ what I shouldn’t do
And bein’ who I shouldn’t be
It’s funny how fallin’ feels like flyin’
For a little while
It’s funny how fallin’ feels like flyin’
For a little while
Those lyrics couldn’t fit Mandarich’s situation any better. He, too, ‘flew for a little while,’ but he was actually falling hard and fast. An All-America offensive lineman at Michigan State and the #2 overall pick in the 1989 NFL Draft (Green Bay Packers), Mandarich attained his physicality through continuous steroid use—something he hid from college testers using ‘clean’ urine. An overpowering lineman, his abilities quickly captured national attention.
Sports Illustrated
Proclaiming Mandarich to be the best line prospect in pro football history, Sports Illustrated did a cover spread, dubbing him, “The Incredible Bulk,” for his size and physicality.
Realizing that he wouldn’t be able to fool NFL testers, Mandarich decided to stop using steroids. The stoppage had consequences. Mandarich’s physical superiority began to wane as did his physical stature. He lost weight and muscle mass. Mandarich then turned from steroids to pain killers, an addiction that began with direct injections and grew to fifty pills a day.
Sports Illustrated
For SI, “The (once) Incredible Bulk” turned into “The (now) Incredible Bust” (SI’s follow-up cover story). Mandarich’s football career came to an end.
Just like it had for ‘Bad’ Black, the great pivot in Mandarich’s life didn’t happen immediately. He went through years of drug-induced anguish and despair. When ‘that moment’ finally arrived (a friend urged him to get sober), he seized the opportunity.
Mandarich looked in the mirror and saw himself for what he was and had become. Honest with himself for the first time (probably ever), he ‘came clean’ (literally and figuratively), dedicating himself to sobriety.
With unfinished business, Mandarich wanted to give pro football another shot. He trained the right way and incredibly (after almost five years of football inactivity) the NFL came calling. This time it was the Indianapolis Colts.
Mandarich was good, too. He became a starter and played from 1996-98 until a shoulder injury prompted him to give up the game. Mandarich could have continued playing (making millions doing it), but he knew that his injury would require taking pain medication. Mandarich didn’t want to risk the consequences.
Michelle Lindsay photographed by Tony Mandarich (courtesy, Tony Mandarich Creatives)
In retrospect, Mandarich’s journey can’t be captured through SI’s bombastic labels: in truth, he was neither ‘The Incredible Bulk’ nor ‘The Incredible Bust.’ But Mandarich can thank SI’s episodic attention for something else. Fascinated by having to pose for SI photo cover shoots, Mandarich became interested in photography—an interest that eventually turned into a career and Tony Mandarich Creatives.
The E:60 program is well worth watching. (You can watch it here.) Produced by Simon Baumgart and reported by Jeremy Schaap, you’ll first experience an ego-inflated caricature whose life turns into a self-proclaimed “train wreck.” Then you’ll witness a personal transformation. A very different Tony Mandarich emerges, one who’s open, humble, and self-effacing.
And, just like ‘Bad’ Blake, Mandarich might put his transformation this way …
I’ve been blessed,
And I’ve been cursed
All my lies have been unrehearsed
A wall of fire that I’ve walked through
(Excerpt from ‘Hold on You’ from the film, Crazy Heart)
But perhaps the most interesting takeaway about these two figures is the meaning their lives hold for the rest of us. The fix we get from flying overwhelms any thought that we’re really falling–until it’s too late. We’ve fallen. We’ve failed ourselves. We aren’t who we thought we were. We’re that ‘something else.’ too–liar, drunk, addict, criminal, cheat … it’s a long list. Regret awaits, but not redemption.
Mandarich and Blake both redeemed themselves. The question is: Will we?
