Author Information
"Pat 'Fucking' Tillman"
Folder:
Tributes by Jeph Johnson
On his college football jersey
He wore number 42
As an All-American linebacker
In '97 for ASU
Chasing players down,
Gridiron aflame
To the ground with bruising tackles,
He really loved this game
Then in '98 the Cardinals
Of the NFL
Lined him up at strong safety
And noticed he played well
Passes thrown at others,
He would get in the way
Chasing errant tosses
Whenever they would stray
Through the air with interceptions,
Covering bombs, surprise attacks
When they ran their routes against him,
Players shuddered in their tracks
Number 40 played with passion,
Commitment and intent
Loyalty and devotion,
His world seemed so content
The Arizona desert he called home
And loved to live
Forged a future for his family,
Loving wife and future kids
He possessed more than most could ask for:
A strong chin and stiffer lip
Intelligence and boyish charm,
Athletic skill and leadership
Destined to be a hero,
Hall of Fame or President
A man's man all could relate to
...at least those with good intent
But the attacks of 9-11,
That fateful September day
Inspired him to reconsider
How his legacy'd be portrayed
So with courage and conviction,
Without fanfare or acclaim
He removed his Football helmet,
And with his brother took new aim
Through the cross hairs of a rifle
Towards threats we all perceived
Tracking troops who trained in terror
With few stripes upon their sleeve
Wearing now a soldier's helmet,
A new gridiron aflame
The Afghanistan desert
Would be where his new team would train
Dodging errant tosses
Whenever they would stray
Grenades were not footballs
And war was not a game
Through the air this time with missiles,
And more surprise attacks
Obeying all his orders
There was no turning back
Not for Patrick Daniel Tillman,
He had made his oath to fight!
Not for God or praise or accolades,
But for what he saw was right
Pat and Kevin served with honor
And with their tour complete
Saw there mission wasn't over,
So they refused to retreat
A second tour of duty,
Despite doubting the war
Was undertaken by
The Tillman brothers underscored!
Orders now contradicted,
They were caught on steep terrain
This battlefield fiasco
Became a military melee
On the Pakistan border
His unit split twofold
Still obeying orders,
Still doing what he was told
He went on ahead
Despite the easy target on his chest
"How dare he doubt in his diary
This war had become a mess?"
"And this crap about there not being
A God to lead our fight?"
"Wasn't Jesus mad at Mohammed
The whole reason for this plight?"
"And this Iraqi oil
Is America's right to claim"
"Whatever the reason, buddy,
You've no right to place the blame!"
So for enemies and allies
He stood upon that grassless knoll
An atheist not only in harms way
But outside of a foxhole!
"I'm Pat Fucking Tillman" he cried,
But shots rang out instead
For the sins of our whole country
He took three bullets to the head
Sometimes selfless endeavors
To right which one finds wrong
Become deadly reminders
To not always play along
We must voice with power our opinions
With the utmost urgency
And hold to our convictions
Amidst adversity
For Pat Tillman's not in Heaven,
He's somewhere more unique
He is in all our hearts and actions
Through every word we speak
A man with all to live for,
Caught in an illegal war's drama
We may never know who pulled the trigger,
But it wasn't Saddam or Osama
"Friendly fire" is what they called it,
Meaning it was one of us
When the highest rank in your chain of command
Is someone you can't trust
It becomes rather obvious
Who really is at fault
But I'll leave that up to everyone
Else to try to figure out
