Leading off today: Count me among the many who were absolutely stunned Monday to learn of the death of
Kevin Mitchell, the former Syracuse University and NFL linebacker, at the age of 36.
Mitchell died at his home in Ashburn, Va., apparently of a heart attack early Monday. He is survived by his wife, Denise, and two children, Jonathan and Kayla.
A graduate of Harrisburg, Pa., High, he played linebacker and nose guard for the Orangemen from 1990 to '93 and was first-team All-Big East his final two seasons. Mitchell was selected in the second round of the 1994 draft by the San Francisco 49ers and won a Super Bowl ring as a rookie. He spent the 1998 and '99 seasons with New Orleans and 2001-03 with Washington.
Two of my lasting memories of covering two seasons of Syracuse football involved Mitchell at practices on the fields next to Manley Field House.
I believe the first was during his true freshman year when Mitchell was part of what many football observers call the "meat squad." Though he was definitely a prized recruit, Mitchell was not yet on the two-deep and was using his redshirt season by playing the role of human tackling dummy.
One day, the one-on-one drills were particularly brutal, and Mitchell was getting mauled by John Flannery, SU's All-American candidate, despite pulling out all the stops and being encouraged by fellow linemen and linebackers. Mitchell shouldn't have felt too badly about that, since lots of fifth-year seniors across the Big East had similar experiences while trying to handle a very good offensive lineman who went on the have a decent pro career.
But Mitchell got no sympathy that day from head coach Dick MacPherson, standing in his tower alongside the grass practice field.
"You're not in high school anymore, No. 50," Mac boomed with his thick New England accent. "This isn't Pennsylvania. This field is for men, not boys."
It was my first season of covering Division I football and I was already coming to understand that an awful lot of Mac that people regarded as his "persona" was actually just "BS." He may have been easy to like in a social setting, but Mac was as ruthless and calculating as any of the hundred Division I head coaches who weren't as adored by the public.
