‘Twenty-one months ago, I was dead:’ Why Damar Hamlin isn’t close to finished yet
Go Long chats again with the man who came back to life. Buffalo's resilient starting safety knows he's only getting started: "I really see myself as one of the best safeties in this league."
ORCHARD PARK, NY — His heart stopped and the Buffalo Bills’ training staff sprung into action. Players wept. Players dropped to a knee. The 65,000+ fans inside Paycor Stadium went mute — a silence no witness will ever forget — as CPR was administered. All eyes were glued to all television screens across the country.
This was the night the sport appeared to kill one of its participants.
We texted loved ones. We questioned our relationship with the sport itself.
But then that player — Damar Hamlin — was brought back to life.
Resuscitated by Denny Kellington, a true hero, the Bills safety was transported to the University of Cincinnati Medical Center. From his hospital bed, Hamlin famously asked “Did we win?” and the sport was allowed to proceed as scheduled. That Sunday, players and coaches from all 32 teams wore “Love For Damar” shirts during pregame. That next season, Hamlin played 17 defensive snaps and made two tackles. This season? The most miraculous sight in the NFL is not the black magic conjured by Patrick Mahomes. Not the Lamar Jackson Show. Not even Saquon Barkley’s backward hurdle. It’s the 26-year-old who died, came back to life and is now hurling his body into players every week.
Typically, if an activity nearly kills someone, the last thing that person wants to do is, you know, sign up for that activity again. Seated inside his locker at One Bills Drive, Hamlin lets that sink in.
“That shit is crazy when you put it like that,” he says. “People touch the stove, realize it’s hot and won’t ever do it again for the rest of their life.”
Yet, here’s Hamlin playing more defensive snaps — 630 — than anyone on the team. On the field 97.67 percent of the time, he’s up to 61 tackles (44 solo), two TFLs, two interceptions and five pass breakups. He’s a down-in, down-out starter on a Super Bowl contender. Arguably no player on the entire defense plays a more crucial role in, once and for all, slaying its nemesis: the Kansas City Chiefs. The AFC heavyweights meet again at 4:25 p.m. (EST) this Sunday at Highmark Stadium. Hamlin cites “willpower” and “determination” and “perseverance” and these are not regurgitated platitudes when it comes to his life. Long before the Bills made him the 212nd overall pick in 2021 — as Go Long readers learned — more than half of his childhood friends died in McKees Rocks, Pa., his father spent 3 1/2 years in prison and he overcame a mysterious injury in college to even make it to the pros.
Hamlin vowed that night over chicken wings to use his platform to change lives.
All he did next was rise from the dead.
It didn’t take Hamlin long to decide to resume his playing career. He pinpoints that Sunday in the hospital room — watching his Bills win from afar — as the moment he knew he wanted to suit up again.
Simply making a roster was impressive enough. Let alone starting for these 8-2 Bills.
He promises he’s not done yet. Not even close.
“I was just getting started,” Hamlin says. “I didn’t even get to be fully who I am yet. And I’m still not there yet. I still feel like I got training wheels on and I’m still getting the dust off of this thing. I’m nowhere near where I can be at. Hell no. Fuck no. Twenty-one months ago, I was dead. There’s still healing to be done. OK, I did a full season of not playing and then I did a full season of playing. Think about what I’ll be able to do with that type of growth. I’m still in the growing process. I’m still learning with each game and I’m still getting back to who I am. To get through another full season, I can just see myself truly.
“The sky’s the limit for myself. I really see myself as one of the best safeties in this league.”
Hamlin easily could’ve retired and made millions giving speeches the rest of his life. Instead? A 220-pound running back turns the corner and he doesn’t hesitate. He dives headfirst into that player’s legs. Instead? On Sunday, he’ll try to match wits with the QB who’ll likely go down as the greatest ever.
“I built my mind up to be strong enough to thrust myself back into this,” Hamlin says. “It wasn’t easy.”
At the core of this unprecedented comeback is one truth: Hamlin represents the beauty of the sport itself.
Despite all of its flaws, football is the ultimate drug. Football is as close as a civilized society gets to ancient gladiators. The attraction is primitive. You invest your money. You devote your sanity. We all structure our entire lives around three fragile hours on a Sunday. Sure, the league’s relationship with gambling apps is slimy, the officiating stinks and your favorite team’s last-second loss may be why there’s currently a hole in your basement wall. This sport’s siren song is un-freakin’-deniable. We always come crawling back for more. Owners will never say so if a mic’s within 100 feet but it’s the innate danger that separates their product from any other. We need it.
Jan. 2, 2023 could’ve been the night that changed this dynamic forever.
Hamlin returned, so we all returned.
Hamlin is a living, breathing and — now — playmaking reminder of why this is the greatest sport in existence.
This day, he thinks back to when he was 11 years old. Inside his little league’s all-star booklet, Hamlin cited New York Jets star Darrelle Revis as his favorite player. Before he knew it, the young defensive back had 48 scholarship offers. After narrowing his Top 5 to Ohio State, Penn State, Notre Dame, Clemson and Pittsburgh, he chose those hometown Pitt Panthers to inspire his little brother. Even made his Twitter handle “HamlinIsland.” Because the goal, all along, was never to merely go pro. In his mind, Revis-like stardom was always realistic.
When we first met, I remember thinking Hamlin might’ve been a smidge too naive, braggadocio, high on his own supply.
But he wasn’t serving as his own hype man. He sincerely meant every word.
Even though the world was his oyster in the aftermath of his cardiac arrest and his name transcended the game, he could not walk away.
“I wasn’t satisfied,” Hamlin says. “I didn’t feel like it was the end.”
First, Hamlin met with several doctors. They told him his cardiac arrest was the result of Commotio Cordis, an ultra-, ultra-rare disruption of heart rhythm due to a direct blow to the chest. Immediate treatment is needed for survival. Doctor after doctor OK’d a return to the field, repeating that Hamlin was at no further risk than anybody else on the field. Here, Hamlin admits he would not have been comfortable playing if any doctors expressed concern. That whisper of doubt in the back of his mind would’ve been crippling.
Medically, he got the green light.
Spiritually, he needed to step away. From January to April, in ‘23, Hamlin didn’t even think about football.
“I wanted to be human again,” he says. “I wanted to wake up, enjoy my family, enjoy the simple days of life. I just wanted to exist.”
Those four months helped Hamlin understand how much he missed the sport. When offseason workouts came around — that April — he was ready. He resumed his football career. Jordan Poyer and Micah Hyde started one final season together and then it was his chance to earn the starting job this fall.
It wasn’t easy. Not by a longshot.
There’s everything the world saw. Hamlin sat down with the President of the United States in the Oval Office. He chopped it up with LeBron James at MSG. He even earned a rare invite to Michael Rubin’s famed “white party.” From afar, this all appeared to be the Summer of Damar. He truly became a celebrity overnight as the most Googled person in the world all of 2023. His X account is up to 762,000 followers. On Instagram, he’s north of 1.5 million.
Then, there’s everything the world does not see.
“Behind the scenes, I was working my ass off every day,” Hamlin says. “Every day.
“I was always preparing and that’s always who I've been as a person. You never had to tell me to get ready or stay ready. That’s who I am. Because I see that as a competitive advantage. Always working on your game. I’ve always had that in me naturally. Nobody ever had to tell me to prepare. I’m always working. Through that whole journey, people didn’t see it.”
He worked out… every day.
He did pushups… nonstop.
Through all of his jet-setting, Hamlin made sure to only book rooms at hotels that had the best possible gyms so he could stick with his trainer’s rigorous program. As for those speaking engagements? He’s playing 4D chess, not checkers. That opportunity will always be there.
“The price is only going up,” he says. “That was a pivotal moment. I could have walked away with all of the resources that moment created. But I knew my ceiling was higher than just taking advantage of that opportunity. I knew there was more to me. I could have walked away, did speaking and did broadcasting. All of that. … There’s more to the story.”
More to the story than what happened in Cincy.
More to the story than the embarrassing fake punt that failed in the playoffs vs. those Chiefs.
This day, Gnarles Barkley’s “Crazy” blares from a nearby teammate’s speaker. Lyrics yowl over Hamlin’s words: Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Does that make me crazy? Possibly. Fitting ambient noise. Over plates of wings at Elmo’s, in 2021, Hamlin’s goals did sound a little crazy. The best-case scenario for most sixth-round picks is to find a role on special teams and last three or four seasons in the pros.
Young Damar insisted then that he was put on this earth to spread love and change lives. Bullets missed him for a reason.
He hasn’t forgotten those words. He hasn’t forgotten where he comes from.
“I ain’t changed one bit. I ain’t changed one bit.”
The memories of deceased friends are all fresh.
He’s still aiming to show kids in McKees Rocks a better life.
He has also become much closer to the father who spent those precious few years behind bars, pointing to Mario Hamlin as the man who pushes him most in life. “He shaped my mindset,” Damar adds, “and prepared me for anything.” Leaning into family these last 21 months has kept him grounded. All the “morals” and “ethics” that made him haven’t changed one bit.
Says Hamlin: “I knew my potential — always. I knew I was going have to work hard to get there.”
He keeps finding himself in the right place at the right time. On Monday Night Football, in Week 3, Hamlin crouched low to secure an overthrow by Jacksonville’s Trevor Lawrence. Against Tennessee, he robbed a tipped Mason Rudolph pass for another pick, before then hand-delivering that football to his family in the stands. Last week — as soon as play-by-play man Andrew Catalon explained how Joe Flacco believed the 2023 Comeback Player of the Year Award belonged to Hamlin — Flacco fumbled the ball. And Hamlin recovered.
As a tackler, he’s a little more fearless each week. He’s inching a little closer to who he once was in college… an enforcer who once WWE body-slammed a poor receiver from Syracuse.
In truth, the collision with Bengals wide receiver Tee Higgins was remarkably ordinary. Short of outright eradicating physicality from the sport, there’s no nifty rule change the owners can invent to prevent such a freak incident. Injuries are inevitable. Nobody should pretend that the NFL is safe. It’s not. Players have the free will to sign that dotted line or not, and Hamlin has not looked back. Hamlin only pressed forward because he also sees the bigger picture.
The good this sport provides forever outweighs the bad and this Bills safety is the most extreme case of all. Not only has he spread CPR and heart-health awareness more than anyone before him, he’s now giving hope to kids in poverty far, far, far beyond his own neighborhood. Hope that multiplies tenfold with each big play.
His plan is to become the best safety in the NFL.
To him, a realistic bar.
“I don’t got no ceiling. I don’t got no ceiling, bro,” Hamlin repeats. “I work hard. As long as I keep working hard and putting the work in, locking in, shit, I’ll go as far as I want to take it. As far as I want to take it.”
I think what we’ll all remember most about that night in Cincinnati is how the entire country banded together. The unity was swift, powerful, unlike anything most of us have experienced since 9/11. This conversation with Hamlin takes place four days before Election Day, riiiight as the online vitriol reached its crescendo. Hamlin saw how his cardiac arrest brought everyone together — a beautiful thing. For a few days, everyone stopped acting like cannibals and got behind a common cause.
He appreciates it, but he’s correct to say we might never see anything like it again.
To him, the unity was bittersweet. He’s still that dreamer from McKees Rocks.
“I wish I could do that more often,” Hamlin says. “I wish I could have that effect and that appeal on people more often because that’s who I am. I’m a lover. I’m a giver. I want to bring people together. I want everybody to love each other. I want everybody to have a good time. I want everybody to enjoy themselves. I don’t want anybody to be envious of anybody. I don’t want anybody to be in comparison. I want everybody to be in their own lane and happy.
“I wish there was a way.”
Don’t worry. He does not intend to temporarily die on the field again to bring people together.
He’s sure something will come to mind. His story is far from complete.
All Damar Hamlin will do right now is approach that ball carrier 1 on 1, duck his head and throw his body into harm’s way completely devoid of hesitation.
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