I'm active duty military and can partly--partly--understand why Pat Tillman turned down a 3.6 million dollar contract with the Arizona Cardinals, and, instead, enlisted in the Army as a grunt for $1200 per month. I use money as the central metric of Tillman's decision because it's the one most non-active duty military readers will misunderstand. I'll try to explain his decision from our (military) perspective.
Let me start by saying I would not have made the same financial decision, despite the uber-patriotic shadow of 9-11 that led many of us to change our lives and some of us to join the military. This was Pat Tillman's decision, and I respect it. I joined 5 years before 9-11, and am proud to have deployed multiple times to Operations Enduring Freedom (OEF) and Iraqi Freedom (OIF). If I wasn't already part of the military, I may have joined after watching the towers fall, but I can't be sure. (A few formidable years encompass major changes in a young man's place and perspective with issues like this). But, I know for sure that I would not have joined and turned down $3.6 million. I know myself, my family, our financial position, and our plans for retirement, so financial security would have trumped my patriotism. That's okay. There's nothing wrong with that. There's thousands of ways to be good Americans and support the troops without joining the military. However, Tillman was inspired, and money had nothing to do with his decision.
When you join the military, you don't join for the money. Pat Tillman knew this. Unless you become a 3- to 4-star general, you will probably live like 99.7% of retired military personnel--a life with a modest pension, and, very likely, a second career starting in your early-40's. In fact, many young enlisted, active duty troops with large families actually require food stamps and extra financial help at Christmas. There are no NFL contracts in the military. However, as a 25 year old, Pat Tillman already received several hundred thousand dollars from the NFL. His wife worked, they had no kids, and it seems they lived well within their means. So, it's safe to say that Pat Tillman had enough money to lean on. He could serve his 3 year tour, return to the NFL, and likely pick up financially where he left off--albeit with a more worldly perspective.
From Where Men Win Glory I understand Pat Tillman as an aggressive, slightly hyper, type-A, alpha-male with a consuming urge to challenge himself both physically and mentally. He was a natural athlete, a raucous drinker, and a thrill seeker, yet he displayed a cool mettle, a certain sangfroid, that counterbalanced his testosterone. He even had a touch of the numinous, in spite of his agnosticism. Most importantly he had a set of morals by which the actions in his life were strictly defined and measured. His personal principles demanded that he bite the most out of life, masticate everything, and leave no opportunity untasted. Many men (and women--but I'll stick with the masculine pronoun from here out) in the military have these attributes. The military offers guys like this a chance to play really hard with big toys that bring hellfire and break things. The military also offers man an opportunity to make a difference, to fight for a cause Tillman considered noble, to defend your country, to apply all the previous attributes against a daily workload. For many, it's the best job in the world, and it's the job they'll talk about most as a grandfather.
Tillman, though, for me, remains a bit of an enigma. Why was he the only professional athlete in America since WWII that postponed a million dollar career to bring hellfire and break things? Here's what I think: despite his age, Tillman was still in that post-pubescent stage of life where a boy, just arriving at manhood, considers desperately where his mark in life will lie. Who am I; what will I be; will I share with a spouse/kids; does this damn college degree really matter; how long will I be in control; have I done anything worthwhile yet? It's a youthful angst. I had it. My buddies went through it. I still experience shades of it as I contemplate the intersections and turnpikes of my life. Tillman hadn't made that decision yet. Good for him. And what an awesome spouse he had that understood and supported his decision. She was (and is forever) a quintessential military spouse. My heart goes out to her. Pat Tillman--at a crucial point in his life--felt there was something more rewarding serving in the Army than serving as a Cardinal. He was 3.6 million dollars sure he wanted a military experience defending freedom before defending the backfield as a strong safety.
Two things crush me about this story. One, Tillman was killed during his first encounter with troops in contact (TIC), and two, the army used his death for internal propaganda and subsequently tried to cover it up. Tillman knew death was a possibility, so he entered that decision with a clear mind. But to die at your first hostile exchange with enemy fire, and from friendly fire at that!! Goshdarn, that sucks. Worse, the army made 7 successive investigations into his death, each one revealing new information while continually redacting previous conclusions. It's the cover up that makes me throw up a little in my mouth, as it did many of the junior level soldiers when told to hide the truth, even from his brother who was also in the firefight, until an official investigation could be completed. The Army provided false information for his eulogy, and the White House procrastinated releasing to the media until they could frame the story. It's shit like this that reminds me the machine is too big, or we're too politically correct, or that somehow we've lost the value and sacrifice of the individual to the State. I pray that it doesn't happen that often, but when it does, it's necessarily egregious. And it happened to Pat Tillman and his family.
5-stars for Pat Tillman. But only 3-stars for the author, Jon Krakauer. I've only read one other book by Krakauer, Into the Wild, but he uses the exact same formula. He investigates the death of a young male, in an austere environment, under very dubious circumstances, and which has generated voluble public debate. He's a tenacious reporter and reveals the facts in an engaging way. He's slightly biased, but not to an unreasonable extent, and his author's voice is relatively settled. However, neither book presents much more than an extremely long series of articles that you'd find in a distinguished newspaper or popular outdoor magazine. It's simply a journalistic exposé.