Three Lives, Two Hits, One Happy Ending

He reached the van at the end of the street. Peter opened the side door, lowered the ramp; Buoniconti's hair brushed the top of the door frame as he inched in, turned, got locked into the space where a front passenger seat would be. Then came the final routine: Peter hooked a thick strap to one side of the wheelchair, then another, the steel clasps clicking into place. He pulled the shoulder and lap belt across Buoniconti's sunken chest, his spindly arms: another click.

Through the windshield the lights from the restaurants, the sight of all the healthy people walking by, shone in Marc Buoniconti's eyes. "I'm a rock, man," he said. "I'm going to live forever." As if to say, Don't worry about me. As if to say, Don't let this scare you. As if to say, in a rasp that sounds like wisdom, Sometimes life works out exactly as it should.

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For more on Marc Buoniconti, check out William Nack's 1988 story on the linebacker in the SI Vault at SI.com/bonus