The reporting assignment seemed simple enough: find Chicago Bears coach Mike Ditka in Durham, interview him and see what he’ll say about his relationship with quarterback Jim McMahon.
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Once there, It didn’t seem so simple.
Ditka was about to play in the Duke Children’s Classic golf outing at Croasdaile Country Club. He was on the putting green, head down, hitting a few balls.
Ditka seemed like the kind who could spot a reporter a football field away, and he did, his eyes never leaving the reporter as the coach puffed on a cigar and putted. The look on that stern Mike Ditka face all but shouted one thing: Don’t even think about it.
And then things changed. The reporter asked for a minute or two of his time.
Ditka smiled, the irascible look disappearing. His voice was calm. He seemed unhurried.
Mike Ditka, nice guy?
“A lot of what people think about me is a figment of someone else’s imagination,” he said, smiling. “Unfortunately, you have no control over those things, about what other people say.”
It was May 1987. A lot of things had been said about Ditka, some of it at the time about his happiness with coaching the Bears, the team he led to the Super Bowl championship in 1985.
His answer: “I’m fortunate to be able to do what I do. I love Chicago. I love doing what I do.”
There was never a doubt about that. Ditka, who died Friday at age 86, coached with a certain passion and style that at times bordered on rage and anger. He could be overly blunt at times. The old Bears tight end from a steel town in Pennsylvania could be a handful.
Iron Mike.
But he loved strolling the sidelines at Soldier Field. He enjoyed matching up against Don Shula and Bill Parcells. Coaching, he said that day in Durham, came with certain pressures and demands and a lot of long hours.
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Then he told a story about his father.
“Listen, my father spent his whole life working in a steel mill,” Ditka said. “Ever spend time in a steel mill? I don’t think you’d like it very much, That’s about as tough as it gets.
“My dad had a tough job, If coaching was a hassle, you wouldn’t see me doing it. And if anyone tells you coaching is hard, you go tell ‘em they’re crazy.”
After the Bears won the Super Bowl, much was said and written about an ongoing feud with defensive coordinator Buddy Ryan. The fact that Ryan left to coach the Philadelphia Eagles was said to be because the two men could not continue to coexist.
“No way,” Ditka said, his voice rising as he puffed harder on the cigar.
“Buddy did a great job for us. Our guys really related to him and his style of defense. I respected him.
“But Buddy’s outspoken, I’m outspoken.”
You think?
With that, the questions that day were more about his team, his players, about the headstrong but often injured McMahon. The two had some contentious times and Ditka, once asked about McMahon having shoulder surgery, replied, “The shoulder was a success. The lobotomy failed.”
Ditka, between putts, said he expected McMahon back and healthy enough for the 1987 season.
“We need Jim,” he said.
As Ditka headed toward the first tee at Croasdaile, stopping to sign autographs, a spectator asked about William “Refrigerator” Perry, the 350-pound defensive tackle who also gave Ditka some fits.
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“Where’s the Fridge?” the man shouted.
“Hopefully anywhere but a Pizza Hut,” Ditka said.
(Staff writer Chip Alexander interviewed Mike Ditka in Durham in 1987.)