Once upon a time, sports heroes could double as role models. In my younger days, I was fascinated by the likes of Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, and Bobby Hull, to name but a few. All were in the midst of hall-of-fame careers. Football didn't really appear on my early radar all that much: by and large, the Bears were just awful. However, it was the hype and excitement surrounding a high first round draft pick that first turned my attention to football. And the public face of Walter Payton ushered in one of the last sports heroes in my life as I became a jaded fan and money became the only game that mattered (there would be one more in Michael Jordan).

Payton always came across as the consummate team player, and it was through his sheer talent alone that seemed to drag the Bears from their long exile among the dregs of the league. And it wasn't just the team, Payton was a pillar in the community. He lived here, he did charity work here, he became one of us. So few players integrate themselves into the community anymore, and this public image endeared him to the city far more than his spectacular records alone could have. When he died in 1999, the whole city mourned.

But memories are rose-colored, and public images are often scrubbed clean before presented for our consumption. After hearing Pearlman explain on a local radio show that he did not set out to tarnish Payton's image, but to paint a truthful portrait, I was intrigued. His legacy -- the great things he did for the team and for the city -- could not possibly be diminished. However, the prospect of learning more about a superstar -- the things not spoken of at the :"Father of the Year":banquets or included on his Wheaties box bio drew me to this book.

I had virtually no knowledge of Payton prior to his being drafted by the Bears. Jackson State was not exactly on-par with the Big 10 or Notre Dame, the local college news stories. the story of Payton's early life, in segregated school and then post-desegregation is worth the price of the book itself. Pearlman does an excellent job showing how, in the midst of a racially-hostile environment, Payton not only came to excel as a football player but also as a likable, empathetic, and smart young man.

It's true that Pearlman does find the skeletons in Payton's closet, however. Payton's image as a family man was a farce -- after the two kids were born, Payton would have little to do with Connie and was an often-absentee father. He loved women, and one in particular tried her best to be a destructive force in his life. In this area, as well as others such as Payton's reliance on pain meds after subjecting himself to so much abuse during his career, Pearlman seems to lavish overly much attention. Is any of it surprising? No, not really -- today's players are much more transparent so to learn that the heroes of our youth were just as flawed shouldn't be a surprise to anyone. Pearlman dotes on this too much -- he found another Capone's vault and this one wasn't empty. We get it the first time he brings it up, but Perlman seems intent to raise these flaws to the same level as Payton's many achievements. This is largely unnecessary when it comes to entertainment figures and is best confined to politicians.

The story of Payton's illness and death was powerful in that not only did I relieve the painful memories of when it happened, but I learned some terrible truths that were intentionally suppressed by Payton and his closest confidants. It's terrible to see anyone go out the way Payton did, let alone managing it on several levels, public and private. Walter Payton was a unique man whose story is a fascinating tale. This is the definitive book on his life to date, and with a little better editing, could be the only book anyone needs to read on Sweetness. ( )