CANTON – On the day before his induction into the Hall of Fame, Lawrence Taylor retreated to his favorite place on earth: the golf course.
The golf course was LT’s detox center when he lived perilously on the edge and over the edge of the NFL’s drug policy, and the golf course was where he found peace and quiet on a sunny afternoon before his most glorious day in the sun.
Later in the evening, across the street from a Civic Center dinner honoring Taylor and fellow enshrinees Eric Dickerson, Ozzie Newsome, Tom Mack and Billy Shaw, Taylor wore the gold Hall of Fame jacket as he was escorted by bodyguards from room to room filled with worshippers.
At the bustling outdoor cocktail hour, LT’s mother Iris wore a radiant smile when asked about her son.
Iris Taylor was asked what her emotions might be today. “Crying all over the place,” she said.
Iris Taylor and Lawrence Taylor’s closest supporters hope and pray today is the first day of the rest of his life. Because today is the day the man we watched stagger and fall on the sidewalks of New York and finally crash off the cocaine edge gets his just due for being the greatest Giant and greatest linebacker of them all.
Today is the day his son T.J., a gentle, sweet kid who will turn 18 later this month, makes the speech that presents him to the Hall of Fame.
Taylor’s parents will be there and so will his ex-wife and his three daughters and so will ex-Giants Harry Carson and George Martin and so will former Giants GM George Young, the man who drafted him in 1981 out of North Carolina, and so will Giants co-owner Wellington Mara, who has always been there in times of need for one of the most troubled and controversial members of his football family.
Bill Parcells has a scrimmage to oversee today at Hofstra, and Phil Simms expects to be there with his old coach. It doesn’t mean Simms isn’t tickled for his old partner in crime.
Simms and Taylor were polar opposites off the field. On the field, however, they were very much alike. They would have played the game in a parking lot.
There was a great mutual respect between 11 and 56.
Simms always appreciated having Taylor on his side. If the fates weren’t as kind, that could have been him wincing under the chilling, relentless, bone-crunching assault that debilitated the Joe Theismanns and the Ron Jaworskis.
It was mostly because of LT, who played the game the same way he lived his life – on the edge.
Simms was asked what playing on the edge that way meant.
“It was just total disregard for the body,” Simms said. “Just as reckless as he could be, but still not hurting the team, helping the team because he was able to function even going at that tremendous speed.
Simms doesn’t care to discuss LT’s off-the-field woes. He will always feel a kinship with him.