Quietly, Strong was Hawks' leader

KIRKLAND — The pain that grabbed him in the neck and shot little shock waves down his left arm was manageable, Mack Strong told himself.

It was the kind of pain that inhabits a fullback's body early in his career and stays with him for his entire career. A literal and metaphorical pain in the neck that Strong awoke to, in Pittsburgh on game day.

"Nothing bad," he told himself. "Just a crick. Something I could work through in pregame."

After 15 seasons as an NFL fullback, 15 years of sticking his head into the chests of much bigger men and opening slivers of daylight for much faster men, Strong knows how to trick his body into believing it can do amazing things.

And his body always fell for his tricks, always bought every lie he told it — until Sunday.

"It [pain] goes with the territory. That's kind of the way things are," Strong said in front of a jammed, hushed and sorrowful group of reporters at the Seahawks' headquarters Monday. "You're always going to have some kind of pain, some kind of injury that you're going to have to push through.

"But at the same time I want to be smart. I don't want to do anything that will jeopardize my long-term quality of health."

In hindsight, the pain Strong woke to Sunday was an alarm and a harbinger. Twice in Sunday's loss to the Steelers, he was hurt.

The first injury was a neck stinger. Strong came to the sideline, passed all of the requisite strength tests and went back into the game. But the second injury, which happened on an innocent-looking block, would end his lush playing career.

After that block, he felt a burning sensation running down both arms and legs. It was an unfamiliar feeling to a man who understands pain the way a chemist understands the Periodic Table.

"I've been dinged, I've had stingers more times than I can account," Strong said. "But I knew this was something that you don't just go off the field for a couple of plays, shake it off and come back in. I'd never felt that before. Tingling in my hands, numbness I felt all the way down to my feet. It was something I knew I needed to take care of."

For maybe the first time in his career, Strong was afraid.

"In light of what's already happened this year with the young man in Buffalo [Kevin Everett], I mean that's the first thing that came to my mind," he said. "I thought, 'I hope this stops. I hope this tingling stops. This numbness stops.'

"It was really scary. I've felt sprained ankles and sprained knees, stingers, bruises, dislocations. I've felt it all, but this was something that was foreign to me as a fullback."

Monday, Strong was diagnosed with an injury to a vertebrae that made his career decision for him. After playing exactly 201 games since coming to Seattle as an undrafted free agent, Strong was being forced into retirement.

"This was my sign," Strong said.

For 15 years he has been the model athlete. Talking with Strong for all these seasons, I get the feeling he would have been good at anything he did. He was that smart, worked that hard, cared that much.

"He's one of the great men I've ever been around," said Mike Holmgren, Strong's head coach since 1999.

Undrafted, Strong came to Seattle from Georgia as a free agent in 1993. He came to a bad football team and helped it get better.

He never looked for glory. Was always happy to open the holes for the swifter, more elusive backs like Chris Warren, Ricky Watters and Shaun Alexander. It was as glamour-less as proofreading, but Strong did it without hesitation.

"To get a player to do what you want him to do, it has to be a special player," Holmgren said. "Mack doesn't get to carry the ball a lot. He does a lot of sacrificing for the team. He's the guy who makes the other guys look good."

Thinking about the end of his career, about his family and the players and games he will miss, Strong stopped twice during his Monday meeting with the media. He turned his head to the left, tears filled his eyes and he scratched his forehead as he fought to regroup himself.

"There's a lot more to life than football. I've got a wife and two kids," Strong said before a long pause, "and there's nothing more important than being able to spend time with them. If I hadn't been able to walk off that field, obviously I know life goes on and all that, but I'm just grateful to have the opportunity to make that decision.

"To me, it's a no-brainer. I've given all, every ounce inside of me, to football, so I have no regrets. This has been an incredible part of my life. I'm just grateful that I got to play as long as I did."

The Seahawks drafted and signed much more talented players than Strong, but they never signed a better person, or a better teammate, or another player who understood as clearly as Strong did, everything it took to be a professional.

Always he has been humble. Always he has been a willing teacher to players who were after his job. Always he was ready to play, even when his body argued otherwise.

Early in their time together, Holmgren remembers Strong saying he was a fast healer. During the week, Holmgren would see Strong on the training table packed in more ice than a salmon at Pike Place Market.

Holmgren doubted Strong would be ready to play on many Sundays, but for Strong there never was a doubt.

"Life is not easy no matter what you're doing," Strong said. "Whether you're playing fullback for the Seattle Seahawks or whether you're working a 9-to-5 job, or stocking groceries.

"There's a certain amount of pain involved and we all have to go through it to reach our goals, our destiny in life. And I made a decision a long time ago that I was willing to pay that price."

Strong always suffered in silence, always showed up for work, no matter how intense the pain. He took his profession, but never himself, seriously. He went about his job with a certain selfless dignity.

And he left the game on Monday, the same way he entered — quietly and humbly.

Steve Kelley: 206-464-2176 or skelley@seattletimes.com