That’s all Johnny Rodgers could muster. The 1972 Heisman Trophy winner lay in an Omaha hospital bed in late November, an oxygen mask strapped to his head, thinking about nothing but breathing.
“As long as I could take a sip, I could get better,†the 70-year-old Husker football legend said Tuesday. “I couldn’t quit.â€
Rodgers returned to his Omaha home this past weekend following a harrowing monthlong COVID scare that consumed several members of his family. “The Jet†himself lost 35-40 pounds. His muscle and strength are gone. He still needs oxygen — “all day, all night.†He suspects he’ll need a year to recover.
Rodgers regrets that he hadn’t been vaccinated against COVID.
“I have to recommend that people do get vaccinated. If they don’t, they’re not going to be as strong as me. They won’t make it.â€
Rodgers’ family members first got crushed by the virus. His daughter, LaTonya. And her mother, Shirley Ponds. They were sick in Denver when Rodgers’ son, Terry, drove 500 miles to help out. Then Terry got sick, too.
The University of Colorado hospital would only admit Rodgers’ daughter. “They had no beds,†Johnny said. So he waited for his daughter to turn the corner, then transported Terry and Shirley back to Omaha, where more help was available.
Rodgers knew he’d likely contract COVID from the 10-hour drive, but he didn’t think he had any choice. A week later, as his family members improved, Rodgers came down with a fever.
“I was expecting it.â€
On Thanksgiving morning — the 50th anniversary of Rodgers’ famous punt return in the “Game of the Century†— his doctor directed him to go to the Nebraska Medical Center emergency room.
Rodgers wanted no part of a ventilator, where he feared he’d lose consciousness and determination — “You can’t think a positive thought for yourself. You have no way of participating in your future.â€
He spent a week in an oxygen mask, almost sleepless. He couldn’t even take a normal breath.
“It took every bit of resolve I had to realize I couldn’t do nothing, but I had to do something. I had to fight. As long as I could do something, I could make it.â€
Slowly Rodgers pulled through. Once his breathing progressed, Rodgers tried to resume the simplest movements. At first, he couldn’t stand up. Couldn’t even hold up his arm or lift his leg. Then he could do it once. Then twice.
Two weeks after his hospital admission, Rodgers returned home with no medication aside from oxygen.
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Rodgers resisted the vaccines because they were “experimental,†he said. He didn’t want to put something unknown into his body. Aside from the occasional bourbon and Coke, “I’m so healthy. I’m an herbalist.â€
But Rodgers said he’s “not doing the right thing if I don’t point people toward the vaccine, even though it’s experimental. ... You gotta get all the help you can get right now because it’s serious. For real. It ain’t no joke.â€
On Saturday, Rodgers missed the Heisman Trophy ceremony in New York, his first absence since he won the award 49 years ago. The same day, Rodgers received a phone call he’d been waiting for.
His mother had died.
Ardella Rodgers had been confined to a bed for months with Parkinson’s and Lewy body dementia. Johnny summoned the energy to spend a day with her last week. Upon her passing, he actually felt relief. “She was suffering more than me.â€
Ardella and Johnny basically grew up together, Rodgers said. Just 14 years apart. Both accomplished a lot, escaping poverty and earning college degrees.
“We came a long way. But we had to come from something. She started us off.â€
Life transpires too quickly, Rodgers said, but the past month feels like much, much longer. His focus now is starting over. Getting back to normal. He was playing racquetball at the Downtown YMCA 4-5 days a week. He’d like to again.
“I don’t want to be a superhero, but if I can get back to where I was, I’ll be so happy I won’t know what to do.â€
Rodgers has a favorite saying: “Every day is game day.†And this is no time to get complacent.
Every day, friend Mike Yanney calls and checks on him. Every day, his son and daughter stop by. Rodgers’ sister, who lives across the street, comes over and mocks his arms that “look like fingers.â€
“Hey, little man,†she says, driving him crazy.
But little moments of joy and laughter are emerging. A few days ago, a friend stopped by with fresh cookies. “Them cookies were so goddamn good. I tell you.â€
Johnny’s appetite is back. So is his sense of humor. Can you believe he spent the 50th anniversary in the ICU?
“Game of the Century, man. It was a helluva fight again. I had to kick COVID’s ass. I had to kick pneumonia’s ass. And they were fighting like a dog. We had it out.
“And I came from behind and pulled it out at the end. Just like in the movie.â€
Yes, Johnny’s spirit has returned. Optimism propelled “The Jet†as a kid from the river bottoms of North Omaha to the grandest stage in college football. And optimism kept him breathing all alone in the hospital.
“I was winning. A sip at a time. That’s what I told myself. And that’s what happened.â€