McKinley the Latest in a String of Mile-High Tragedies

When I heard about the death of Denver Broncos wide receiver Kenny McKinley during the Saints-49ers battle-to-the-end on Monday night, my first thought was not so much the expected God, how awful that accompanies the news of any young man's unexpected death -- high-profile or otherwise. This time it was not this again.

McKinley was a second-year player who was on the injured reserve list after playing in half of his team's games in his rookie season in 2009, expected to miss the entire 2010 campaign after having his second knee surgery of the year several weeks ago. His passing, while shocking and of course irreversible, should at least seem a rarity. He was 23 years old. He had a young son. A native of Cobb County near Atlanta -- where as a high-schooler he was known for his passing and rushing exploits -- he holds University of South Carolina career records for receptions and receiving yards, and is third on the all-time list for touchdowns in the storied Southeastern Conference. Cliched as it may seem, he had the whole world in front of him, waiting for him to be healthy and suit up again.

But Denver sports fans have dealt with this too much already. On Jan. 1, 2007, cornerback Darrent Williams was shot and killed in a downtown drive-by shooting, and weeks later running back Damien Nash collapsed and died at a charity basketball game. Both were 24. In April, Colorado Rockies president Keli McGregor, who was a standout at tight end for Colorado State University and played briefly for the Broncos in 1985, was found dead in a Salt Lake City hotel room.

I'm a Boston-area native whose sports fandom as a kid was virtually reflexive. New Hampshire winters are long and cold and cruel, and it's natural to turn to something as easy to idolize as the Celtics were in the 1980s and the Red Sox have been in recent years. When I first arrived in Colorado, I was surprised at what seemed to be a lackadaisical attitude toward its professional sports teams. But what first struck me as a "bandwagon" attitude, I now realize, was something different: You have to earn the admiration and respect of fans around here. It's not a given. And that's okay. As the Rockies' heroic resurgence in recent weeks has proved, the locals know just when and how to rally.

A friend this morning was reflecting on what McKinley may have been going through.

"It's strange to think of this happening in football," Luke said. "It seems like you're always around people, doing everything together, and that this shouldn't happen."

I understand perfectly what he means. But the greater tragedy is that it's very easy to be alone in a sea of humanity, and no one yet knows the details about what took young Kenny McKinley down.

As a happenstance visitor in 1994 to Austell, Georgia, where McKinley grew up and starred, I won a 5K road race on Labor Day in a time that would remain my fastest for almost 10 years. I was 24 years old at the time. Somehow, the gently rolling country roads of that small town somehow seem more real to me today, even as the event tripping my memories of that day doesn't yet register. And the sadness is definitely real.

Sean Leahy, "Broncos: No Signs That Deceased WR Kenny McKinley Was Suicidal", USA Today

Jon Wertheim, "McKinley's Apparent Suicide Casts Light on Athletes' Risk of Depression", SI.com