Steve McMichael was right where he needed to be while witnessing his Hall of Fame moment

HOMER GLEN, Ill. — The McDonald’s billboard down the street offered congratulations. Television crews and some enthusiastic fans waited outside the house in the quiet subdivision. Security guards stood in the doorway.

Inside was a man on a hospital bed wearing a gold jacket, with many of the people who love him most.

It is reasonable to conclude Steve McMichael never should have been here.

He never should have been a Chicago Bear. He was supposed to be a New England Patriot. They chose him in the third round of the 1980 NFL Draft but cut him the following year.

He was not supposed to keep going and going, becoming legendary partly by playing 13 years and in more games than any Bears player and never missing a game because of injury despite knees that doctors sliced eight times.

He never was supposed to be inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame. He had gone 20 years as a modern-era candidate without even being a semifinalist and another four years as a senior candidate without being discussed as a candidate. Three of his defensive teammates already had been inducted, including two linemen, and no team in history had three defensive line Hall of Famers.

He was not supposed to be in his home Saturday. He was supposed to be in Canton, Ohio, with the other inductees. That was the plan until a little more than a month ago when the Pro Football Hall of Fame decided it would be best for him if the ceremony could be brought to his home.

He never was supposed to be with us still. When he was diagnosed with ALS in 2020, doctors told him he could expect to live another two years. At times, it seemed like a stretch that he would make it that long. He agreed to a Do Not Resuscitate order. But during one harrowing medical emergency, he indicated he wanted to lift it.

McMichael wanted to see this day.

Inside the house, former teammates gathered, including Trace Armstrong, Gary Fencik, Mike Hartenstine, Bruce Herron, Tyrone Keys, Emery Moorehead, Jim Morrissey, Jim Osborne, Ron Rivera and Tom Thayer. Others present included his sister Kathy McMichael, his nurse Michelle Foster, Lou Canellis, Gary Haeger, Michael Kinyon, Larry Mayer, Wanda Osborne, Betsy Shepherd, Rick Telander, Larry Wert and John “Nunu” Zomot.

Then a private plane from Akron-Canton Airport arrived at Lewis University Airport. Shortly after, Hall of Famers Jim Covert, Richard Dent and Mike Singletary came in with Misty McMichael, Steve’s wife, and Macy McMichael, their daughter. A representative from the Hall of Fame carried a box past the shrimp and the coffee cake, the artwork, the framed football cards, the game balls and the knick-knacks celebrating his career, and placed the box at his bedside.

It wasn’t long before everyone gathered around his bed. ESPN cameras were rolling, and Jarrett Payton’s presentation speech was playing on a monitor in front of McMichael. “I’m honored and privileged to present Steve McMichael for enshrinement in the Pro Football Hall of Fame,” Payton said.

Misty and Macy unveiled the bust, which made him look like he should have been an action-movie hero with flowing hair and a Hollywood jaw.

It was warm in the house, and McMichael got a little overheated, but they cooled him down with a cold washcloth on his forehead.

Mostly, the new inductee was expressionless and motionless but aware. The raw power that once defined him long has been drained, but eye contact revealed the heart that led him here.

From the outside looking in, it was a magnificent scene. It was unprecedented for an inductee to be enshrined this way. A Hall of Fame voter called it “perhaps the greatest enshrinement in history.”

But the people gathered around his bed didn’t sense that. What they sensed was something hardly ever associated with McMichael — peace.

It was the peace you feel when every star is aligned and the universe has unfolded as it should.

Then Dent spoke. “Steve, you’re here with all your world-champion relatives,” he said. “Back in Canton, we have 378 relatives looking for you. You’re on a team that you can never be cut from. You can never be released from. When you die on this team, you will still be on it. Welcome home, Steve. You’re in football heaven.”

Somehow, Steve McMichael was just where he was supposed to be.

(Top photo of Steve McMichael’s Hall of Fame bust and his wife, Misty: Nick Cammett / Getty Images)