Source & More[ame="http://sports.espn.go.com/boston/nfl/news/story?id=4940988"]New England Patriots fan favorite Mosi Tatupu dead at 54 - ESPN Boston[/ame]
Source & More[ame="http://sports.espn.go.com/boston/nfl/news/story?id=4940988"]New England Patriots fan favorite Mosi Tatupu dead at 54 - ESPN Boston[/ame]Mosi Tatupu, who played for the New England Patriots from 1978-1990 and was a star performer on special teams, died Tuesday at the age of 54, according to the Honolulu Star Bulletin.
I have tears in my eyes as I type this!
Mosi was up there with Larry Bird, Steve Grogan, Terry O'Reilly and Dwight Evans as my childhood heroes!
I had the pleasure of meeting this GREAT man in Dec. 1979, as I was invited to attend the Patriots team Christmas party (my dad worked for the Pats then).
Mosi, along with Don Hasselbeck (Matt's dad) spent 45 minutes talking to me about the importance of school.
...Don Hasselbeck ...RIP
Had he worked in construction rather than football all those years, he wouldn’t have done finish work. He would have swung a pick and laid the foundation. That’s the kind of football player he was, which is what perhaps made his unexpected passing Tuesday at the age of 54 so shocking to anyone who remembers “Mosi’s Mooses” - that fiercely loyal fan club that sat, fittingly enough, in end-zone seats rather than club seats.
It was the right place for Mosi’s Mooses to gather because that’s who the Patriots’ greatest special teams player was. He was a regular guy like them, a regular guy who became a cult hero, not because of nifty runs or soft hands or a chest-beating baritone, but because he played football the way the game is supposed to be played - hard and with unrelenting good cheer.
When they write the history of the NFL, Mosi Tatupu won’t even merit a footnote. When they write the history of the New England Patriots [team stats], the same may be true. He had no statistics to speak of, unless you count the bodies he left strewn around NFL stadiums when he was covering kicks and blocking linebackers while teammates got the glory.
He was the kind of guy you find on every job site, factory or mill. The guy who shows up every day. Never late, never sick, never complaining. The guy you don’t notice until he’s gone.
When he opened the session for questions, the first was entirely predictable: “How much do you make?”
There’s a vivid memory here of the look that crossed his face.
“A lot,” he answered, uncomfortably. “A lot more than your teachers who, considering what they do, should be making more than we are. What I do just doesn’t compare to what they’re trying to do for all of you.”
That’s who Mosi Tatupu was, a very decent guy who just happened to be a wonderful football player, too.
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