Our Sunday Visitor

Marty Lyons now plays for kids

A former football star turns his attention to granting special wishes for sick children

By Dick Ryan

"If you keep fighting, we'll keep fighting," Marty Lyons said several years ago.

No, it wasn't one of those cool autumn afternoons when Lyons starred as a defensive tackle for the New York Jets of the National Football League, pleading with the offense to score more points. Nor was it even a few years earlier when he was an All-American on Coach Bear Bryant's 1978 national champion Alabama Crimson Tide football team, trying, as he always did, to inspire the entire bench along the sidelines.

When Marty Lyons said those words only a few years ago, they were whispered in the darkness of a Long Island, N.Y., hospital room where a young boy named Peter, motionless and breathing through a respirator, was fighting for his life. Lyons stayed in the room with that youngster for a long time that evening, sitting alongside the boy's parents. Just before leaving, when Lyons leaned down and whispered those words, Peter's hand suddenly reached out and groped for Lyons' hand.

"It may have been one of the greatest satisfactions in my life," the 6-foot-5 former football player said recently in his office at the brokerage firm of Paine Webber in Uniondale, N.Y. "Years later, Peter is still alive, and still fighting."

But this is nothing really new for this giant of a man who has been visiting children at their hospital bedsides, at least once a month, for more than a decade. It has become part of his life now.

While it is never easy and often emotionally draining, he keeps coming back to all these children and to all these moments when a little boy or girl reaches out for the strong, soft hand of help and hope that belongs to Marty Lyons.

For anyone who watched Lyons play during his 12 years with the Jets, it may be hard to imagine this gentler, more vulnerable aspect of the man. As a football player, he was a devastating tackler who took no prisoners and was part of an in-your-face defense that was known endearingly as "The Sack Exchange."

"When I crossed the line on to the football field, I wasn't very spiritual," he said with a mischievous smile.

But the spiritual world of Lyons swerved sharply in the spring of 1982 when, within the period of just seven days in March, his first son was born, his father died and a 6-year old boy, for whom Lyons had been a Big Brother for three years, died of leukemia.

"It all happened so suddenly and so quickly, between March 4 and March 10, especially with the loss of two people who were so very special to me," Lyons recalled. "At the time, I just asked, 'Why?' How could God let this happen? I was stunned, and questioned my faith as a Catholic."

But the birth of his son provided an answer, as Lyons was carried back to reason and some measure of peace by this new life, this new vitality, this fresh new reason to believe again, and perhaps more deeply than ever before.

"I suddenly realized the importance of life," Marty reflected as a few photos of his family peeked out behind him from a corner of his office. "I realized also that this was God's way of telling me that there's more to life than football."

And so the Marty Lyons Foundation was born as he called a few of his friends, including former Jet Ken Schroy, and they created an organization that would be totally dedicated to helping children with terminal illnesses or children who have been diagnosed with chronic life-threatening diseases.

In its 13 years, his foundation has reached out and helped more than 800 children, ranging in ages from 3 to 17. And the numbers keep growing. Lyons, Schroy and the others visit children in hospitals, talk to the doctors and go about the business of lifting the spirits of all these children and their families.

"We simply try to fill some special wish of all these children, whether it's meeting a celebrity, going to a baseball game or Disney World or doing anything else that comes within the guidelines of the foundation," Lyons explained.

"And it's not just a one-shot deal," added foundation president Martin Kiffel. "We stay in touch with all the children, to see how they're doing, whether it's through their parents, their doctor, nurse or social worker. These are very special children to all of us."

Initially, the challenge that Lyons took on in helping children who are facing death was even hard for his own family.

"My wife, Christine, found it a little difficult at first," he said. "As a mother, it was a little rough sitting there with these children who might not be around for very long. But, today, she's a coordinator for one of our chapters and a backbone to everything that we do."

"Unfortunately, many people in society are too often intimidated by these children," Lyons went on, leaning back in his chair. "They turn to someplace else with their time and concern because the prospect of doing anything for these children seems too much. That's why it's so important that even young people understand the problem and what we're trying to do. I think that today a sense of personal commitment is something that has been lost in too many corners of society. And that includes a commitment to our own family, to our children's education, and to religion itself."

"My 13-year old son has been involved with some of the children in the Foundation from time to time," the 38-year old executive investor for Paine Webber added. "It's been a great experience for him. He has begun to understand the value of life and to see how important he and everybody else is in the world."

In an average year, the Foundation raises about $200,000 and, as Lyons proudly points out, 95 percent of the money goes directly to the children, with the rest spent on incidentals such as informational brochures and stationery.

"All of our people volunteer their time in the six chapters in New York and New Jersey," the athlete-businessman-crusader explained. "Then we also have those who contribute money and other resources toward fulfilling the kids' special wishes. And there are also dozens of professional athletes and celebrities who are as close to the children and the mission of the Foundation as they could possibly be." He singled out names such as current Jets quarterback Boomer Esiason, former hockey player Bobby Nystrom and Jets coach Rich Kotite.

"But there are a lot of people who like what we're doing and would like to help us if they only had the time," Lyons continued. "But they can always help in some other way. I just ask them to give us their thoughts and their prayers."

When Lyons walks down one of the hallways of Paine Webber, people notice, and gingerly step aside. Towering and wide, Lyons walks with an easy grace that hardly gives a clue to the rampaging force that policed the Jets line of scrimmage for a dozen years. And his sunny, spontaneous, next-door smile is certainly something of an unknown quantity to those who used to line up against him over a football during the 1980s.

"He's a big teddy bear," Martin Kiffel said immediately in describing Lyons. "Kids love him, and their parents are attracted to him as someone who is simply a very good, generous person. It's not unusual to see him carry a couple of kids in both arms during our annual Christmas party. And it's just the way he is. It's something that the kids just sense, and so do their parents."

There are other interests and causes that take a few more hours out of Marty Lyons ordinary day outside of the time with his family and the Foundation and Paine Webber. There are, for instance, the Boy Scouts and the Special Olympics and the Leukemia Society. But at the end of most days, there are those moments alone when Lyons remembers an instance in his life when a little boy reached out to him in a way that hundreds of other children still do, in different ways, at different times.

"If you keep fighting, we'll keep fighting," they each hear him say, over and over, with his soft, husky whisper. So they keep fighting, and living, and fighting again another day. And so does Marty Lyons, for each of them.

Ryan writes from New York City

Other features included in the 12/24/95 issue of Our Sunday Visitor. Subscribe by calling toll-free, 1-800-348-2440.

Christmas memories

On board to serve his fellowman

Holy animal lovers

The Catholic Alliance -- can the center hold?

The making of a Catholic political bloc