Heart Scare Helped Propel Jets Punter
By GREG BISHOP
Published: January 5, 2011
FLORHAM PARK, N.J. On Saturday night in Indianapolis, in another first-round playoff game, Steve Weatherford expects that excitement and emotion will elevate his heart rate. But not too much. Not like last season.
Steve Weatherford says a recent heart operation helped make him a more productive player by allowing him to work out longer.
[img_r]http://graphics8.nytimes.com/images/2011/01/06/sports/PUNTER/PUNTER-articleInline.jpg[/img_r]Sometimes, in quiet moments, Weatherford drifts back to Jan. 9, 2010. The Jets played Cincinnati that day, without Weatherford, their punter, whose heartbeat escalated during warm-ups. It climbed to more than 200 beats per minute, to 205, to 210, beyond a heart rate considered maximum for a man his age (then 27, now 28).
You could see it, Weatherford said Wednesday, and by it, he meant his heart. Your shoulder pads come down over your chest, and you could see my pads go like this, in and out, just quivering, all exaggerated. It was scary.
This season was Weatherfords most productive campaign in five years as an N.F.L. punter. He placed 42 punts inside the 20-yard line, tying a league record for one season. This did not happen in spite of his episode last season.
It happened, Weatherford said, because of it.
Weatherford felt fine as he jogged onto the field last January at Paul Brown Stadium in Cincinnati. He sailed several practice attempts into the sky. When he stopped, he suddenly felt dizzy, lightheaded, short of breath. He searched for the team doctor.
Trainers placed ice packs on his neck, and when that did not lower his heart rate, they fed him beta blockers. When that also failed, they hooked Weatherford up to a portable electrocardiograph machine. To Weatherford, the EKG reading resembled the scribblings of a madman, lines jutting this way and that. The episode lasted 90 minutes.
His wife, Laura, watched the playoff game on television. Early in the first quarter, the Bengals forced a punt. Jay Feely, the place kicker, trotted onto the field. His first attempt traveled a noble but meager 33 yards. Laura had received a call from a team official, but that left her confused. She wondered if her husband had been injured, or, because the official said he had an illness, and she was aware of his heart history, she wondered if it was worse.
Weatherford reacted instinctively. He begged the doctors to allow him to return. He said he would walk onto the field, punt and walk off. When they vetoed this plan, Weatherford ripped off the electrodes attached to his body, ripped the IV from his arm, sprinted onto the sideline and begged for reinstatement.
At halftime, still in uniform, he held on to hope. Eventually, resigned, he took it off. As his heartbeat slowed, he felt as if he had run a marathon.
Im sitting there in the locker room and I thought, you know, this might be the last game you ever suit up for, Weatherford said.
Upon arrival in New Jersey, Weatherford checked into Morristown Memorial Hospital. He received medication to regulate his heart rate. He even punted in the Jets final two playoff games, against San Diego and Indianapolis.
Weatherford first experienced an abnormal heart rate in his senior year of high school in Indiana. It elevated rarely but sharply, once during a high school basketball game and sometimes in college at Illinois. He had one operation after his sophomore season.
The second operation took place in March. It lasted four hours and was explained to Weatherford as minor, in as much as heart surgery can fit that description. Just before surgery, he signed a waiver that included a grim statistic: an 11 percent mortality rate.
Im like, so, if you flip a coin 10 times, one of those times Im going to die? Weatherford recalled.
The second operation allowed Weatherford to reach his potential as a punter, after uneven stints with New Orleans, Kansas City and Jacksonville.
Weatherford never lacked athleticism. He collected 13 varsity letters in high school, in football, basketball, soccer and track and field. He leapt 6 feet 10 inches in the high jump, sprang 24 feet in the long jump and sprinted the 40-yard dash in 4.45 seconds. Nike even offered to sponsor him as a decathlete.
Weatherford met his wife on his college recruiting trip to Illinois. Her sister dated the punter who preceded Weatherford there. She had no idea of his athletic exploits, but she was attracted to his abdominal muscles. They have been together since.
She, too, watched at times when his heart beat out of his chest. She lived through the first surgery, and the second. This season, she said, feels like everything is falling into place hes worked so hard for so many years, and now were here, and its pretty awesome.
Teammates say he ranks among the Jets most athletic players, regardless of position. They described a confidence level that borders on the cocky swagger held more often by skill position players.
One year removed from the episode in Cincinnati, teammates even tease Weatherford about the day his heartbeat soared. According to wide receiver Jerricho Cotchery, they reference a scene in the movie Talladega Nights, reciting the line, Im all jacked up on Mountain Dew!
Despite the jokes, Weatherford called this his finest N.F.L. season. He credits the second operation for the improvement. It helped with his training in the off-season, allowing him to work out longer and recover faster. He entered the season stronger, more explosive. He sleeps better and wakes up more refreshed.
Against the Colts on Saturday, Weatherford believes he will start and finish the playoff game he missed last season. His teammates expect that, too. In detailing Weatherfords abilities, Cotchery unwittingly used a clich that fit Weatherfords story perfectly.
He said Weatherford has heart.