News (Media Awareness Project) - US TX: Scoring Against Drugs |
Title: | US TX: Scoring Against Drugs |
Published On: | 1998-07-20 |
Source: | Dallas Morning News |
Fetched On: | 2008-09-07 05:29:44 |
SCORING AGAINST DRUGS
Ex-football star Isiah Robertson uses faith, discipline to help young
addicts in his rehab program
MABANK, Texas - Everett is looking for a second chance.
He broke curfew and may be kicked out of the drug rehab program that he
enrolled in seeking help for his four-year cocaine addiction.
Five friends and fellow residents (like Everett, identified in this story by
first name only) gather to determine his fate with the director of the
program. Should he get heavy chores or expulsion from the program, where he
was sent in lieu of going through the justice system.
"He's got a good heart," says Stormy, 20, of Canton. "I'd let him stay."
"Definitely woodpile," says Reuben, 20, of Plano. "He should be put on a
short leash and grill his butt."
The 6-foot-5, 275-pound arbiter is Isiah Robertson, the ex-linebacker for
the then-Los Angeles Rams and director of the House of Isaiah. As Mr.
Robertson listens to the arguments, his thick black eyebrows rise. His
tapping feet peek out the front of the desk.
"Any more suggestions? No?" he asks.
Mr. Robertson, pen almost disappearing in his hand, hunches over a notepad
to write the final terms of Everett's punishment. He then buzzes the
intercom and bellows for his assistant to send the man into his office.
Everett comes in to receive his ultimatum.
Mr. Robertson peers over his bifocals and encourages Everett to stick to the
conditions of his punishment and continue with the program.
"You're going to do what it takes and God will help you," Mr. Robertson says.
The ex-football star who was knocked down by a drug addiction in the
mid-'80s knows what it's like to be on the other end of recovery.
And Everett knows it. "If I left, you'd call the law on me?" he asks Mr.
Robertson.
"Yes, I've got two of Dallas County's finest who went to bat for you," Mr.
Robertson says.
The 18-year-old from Garland looks around the room, grins and asks: "How
about that woodpile?"
Christian doctrine and a strong work ethic - these are the paths outlined in
Mr. Robertson's recovery program, the tools toward rebuilding futures that
have been put on hold due to drug and alcohol addiction.
Many of his residents are from Plano, home of a heroin epidemic that has
claimed at least a dozen lives since 1996.
"Plano has awakened to this tragedy," says Phil Mercer, senior pastor of the
First United Methodist Church in Plano.
A parishioner of Mr. Mercer's had heard good things about Mr. Robertson's
program and taken his son there for treatment.
"I think Isiah Robertson is a unique person himself, and has a unique
capacity to blend authority with Christian love," says Mr. Mercer, who saw
Mr. Robertson and a few of the residents speak at a Rotary Club meeting in
Plano recently.
"He's a disciplinarian," Mr. Mercer says. "The young men know that he's
serious. I sensed that he has gone through the valley."
For nearly 10 years, the House of Isaiah in Mabank, 55 miles east of Dallas,
has been helping recovering drug users and alcoholics beat their addictions.
Mr. Robertson offers free treatment to those who can't afford it and accepts
payment on a sliding scale from those who can. Of the 30 residents at the
facility, 10 are from Plano and 15 are from elsewhere in the Dallas-Fort
Worth area. In all, Mr. Robertson says he has treated nearly 1,250 young men
from the area.
Some have come from as far away as Rio Grande City and from other states as
well, including Oklahoma, Louisiana and New Jersey.
Once residents make the pledge to take part in the six-month recovery
program, they are to attend daily Bible and recovery classes, as well as
nightly Alcoholics Anonymous classes. The residents are also expected to
attend church revivals off grounds and must keep up their weekly chores.
The House of Isaiah began in 1989 as a trailer on 50 acres with some
livestock. Now the facility consists of a house on a 120-acre lot with a
kitchen, recreation room, classroom and administrative offices. Most of Mr.
Robertson's residents are referred to him by judges, police, probation
officers, insurance companies, mental health facilities and churches.
Mr. Robertson, 49, based the name of the house on a passage from the Book of
Isaiah, 61:1, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me to release the prisoners
and to set the captives free."
His mission - to teach and save - was honed on the playing fields by a
lifetime of coaching and mentoring young men.
"The whole key to the recovery is bonding with these young men and
developing a relationship so they can trust you," Mr. Robertson says.
Mr. Robertson builds relationships with the House of Isaiah residents in a
number of ways, at home and on the road.
On a recent afternoon, he accompanied Terry on a visit with his probation
officer.
He used the hourlong drive to listen to tapes of Fort Worth preacher Dale
Jentry extolling the virtues of clean living. Mr. Robertson considers him
one of his "spiritual gurus," and wanted to share his enthusiasm. He turned
the volume up. No one spoke the whole ride.
Terry, 21, of Greenville, sat in the back seat, quiet yet pensive, using a
rest stop to smoke a cigarette. His sunglasses hid his blue eyes. At one
point, he lifted his shirt to show the thick scar that runs from the middle
of his chest to his belly button.
"I put a gun to my chest and pulled the trigger. My mother found me," says
Terry. "I used heroin to come down from the cocaine. I was tired of shooting
dope, tired of being alive. Heroin has a way of bringing down your
self-esteem and emotions."
Terry had been to two other rehabilitation centers before coming to the
House of Isaiah.
"He's a great guy," Terry says of Mr. Robertson. "He's got a big heart. He's
positive inside. No matter how mad you are going into his office, you always
come out laughing, even if you're in trouble.
"At other treatment centers, there's so many in the chain of command. One
person tells you one thing. Someone else tells you another. He's the boss.
He's been there."
Mr. Robertson has many admirers who know him as a tough man with a soft
heart. "When you played against him, he tried to take your head off," says
former Dallas Cowboys quarterback Roger Staubach.
"I played against him all the time. If you played against him you said,
'This guy's a real jerk,' then when you meet him you realize that was him
being an entertainer on the field. He was a good character who, off the
field, was the kind of guy who was a lot of fun."
Mr. Staubach paraphrases a quote by Martin Luther King Jr. to describe his
friend and former nemesis: "You need to be aggressive like a serpent, tender
like a dove, you need a tough mind and a soft heart."
"Isiah, for all his toughness, has a real strong heart. He really cares,"
says Mr. Staubach, chairman and CEO of the Staubach Co. headquartered in Dallas.
"I think Isiah has always had this internal caring about him. Even through
the tough times. That's important. Some people never give back, when things
are going bad [instead] we're pointing fingers."
Mr. Robertson remembers the lure of drugs 13 years ago. After retiring from
a successful 12-year linebacking career in the NFL, Mr. Robertson went into
the cell phone business and became successful. He owned 14 homes and five
Mercedes.
"I didn't want to get involved in drugs," Mr. Robertson says. "I just
happened to get involved with successful people" who were involved with drugs.
After being introduced to crack cocaine, Mr. Robertson says, he spent
$20,000 on a 31-day binge. He entered rehabilitation programs but relapsed
to a $2,500-a-day habit. He sold his cars and homes to pay for his drug
habit and keep his business. Once the money ran out, he cut lawns and worked
at a car dealership to make a living.
One evening in 1986, two men drove a car through his L.A. home and beat him
severely. He says he would have been shot if the gun hadn't jammed. While
running away, Mr. Robertson was arrested by police and accused of possessing
cocaine. He wasn't charged, but spent a night in jail before he was
released. That's when he says he decided to come to terms with his addiction.
"My life was based on what people wanted me to be," Mr. Robertson says. "As
an athlete you're supposed to knock people's heads off on Sundays. Being a
linebacker off the field, you have to have a certain image, a certain
charisma. You become invincible and you develop these theories and values
that you can't get hurt."
He says that he liked "fast cars and pretty women." He said he got off track
with the things that were important to him, "like family, integrity." Mr.
Robertson has been married twice. He has one daughter from the first
marriage and three children by his second wife, Peggy.
Mr. Robertson was in rehab for three years, "two playing around . . . and
one in recovery."
He decided to move to Dallas after attending the Church on the Rock Bible
College in Rockwall. He says he dedicated his life to helping young men who
have made the same mistakes.
One of those young men is Joshua, a 23-year-old Carrollton man with purple
track marks scarring both arms.
"He's not like a father to me, but he is like a father to a lot of these
people," Joshua says. "When you start thinking stupid and straying off, you
go back into his office and he kicks your butt back in line and you start
thinking straight for another week until you start thinking stupid again."
Thinking straight is a big part of recovery, Mr. Robertson says. During
daily, Christian-based Bible and rehabilitation classes, Mr. Robertson
delivers the word of God to the residents, often to a chorus of cheers and
amens. Sometimes he takes his cues from his favorite preacher, Mr. Jentry,
and tells them that life is like a race and you have to run not only to win
but run with a purpose.
"You've got to protect your future," Mr. Robertson bellows.
"You've got to protect your potential. You've got to protect the gift that
God has given every one of you. Don't be afraid."
But Mr. Robertson knows he can't protect everyone. His charges often falter.
One of his former residents, Roy, 24, recently returned to the House of
Isaiah seeking refuge. He has fallen back into drugs and violated probation.
A warrant is out for his arrest; police could come at any time.
"You left here early and told me, 'Isiah, I am ready man. I know I can make
it. I mean God has spoke to me.' " He asks Roy to step up to the pulpit.
"So what is going through your mind now, Roy? What is going through your
mind now knowing that [any day now], every computer in the state of Texas is
going to have you in their system as a felon," Mr. Robertson barks.
"Roy is looking at 10 years. Just take 10 years and throw them in the
garbage can."
Roy is silent. He asks to be excused and quietly leaves.
Checked-by: Melodi Cornett
Ex-football star Isiah Robertson uses faith, discipline to help young
addicts in his rehab program
MABANK, Texas - Everett is looking for a second chance.
He broke curfew and may be kicked out of the drug rehab program that he
enrolled in seeking help for his four-year cocaine addiction.
Five friends and fellow residents (like Everett, identified in this story by
first name only) gather to determine his fate with the director of the
program. Should he get heavy chores or expulsion from the program, where he
was sent in lieu of going through the justice system.
"He's got a good heart," says Stormy, 20, of Canton. "I'd let him stay."
"Definitely woodpile," says Reuben, 20, of Plano. "He should be put on a
short leash and grill his butt."
The 6-foot-5, 275-pound arbiter is Isiah Robertson, the ex-linebacker for
the then-Los Angeles Rams and director of the House of Isaiah. As Mr.
Robertson listens to the arguments, his thick black eyebrows rise. His
tapping feet peek out the front of the desk.
"Any more suggestions? No?" he asks.
Mr. Robertson, pen almost disappearing in his hand, hunches over a notepad
to write the final terms of Everett's punishment. He then buzzes the
intercom and bellows for his assistant to send the man into his office.
Everett comes in to receive his ultimatum.
Mr. Robertson peers over his bifocals and encourages Everett to stick to the
conditions of his punishment and continue with the program.
"You're going to do what it takes and God will help you," Mr. Robertson says.
The ex-football star who was knocked down by a drug addiction in the
mid-'80s knows what it's like to be on the other end of recovery.
And Everett knows it. "If I left, you'd call the law on me?" he asks Mr.
Robertson.
"Yes, I've got two of Dallas County's finest who went to bat for you," Mr.
Robertson says.
The 18-year-old from Garland looks around the room, grins and asks: "How
about that woodpile?"
Christian doctrine and a strong work ethic - these are the paths outlined in
Mr. Robertson's recovery program, the tools toward rebuilding futures that
have been put on hold due to drug and alcohol addiction.
Many of his residents are from Plano, home of a heroin epidemic that has
claimed at least a dozen lives since 1996.
"Plano has awakened to this tragedy," says Phil Mercer, senior pastor of the
First United Methodist Church in Plano.
A parishioner of Mr. Mercer's had heard good things about Mr. Robertson's
program and taken his son there for treatment.
"I think Isiah Robertson is a unique person himself, and has a unique
capacity to blend authority with Christian love," says Mr. Mercer, who saw
Mr. Robertson and a few of the residents speak at a Rotary Club meeting in
Plano recently.
"He's a disciplinarian," Mr. Mercer says. "The young men know that he's
serious. I sensed that he has gone through the valley."
For nearly 10 years, the House of Isaiah in Mabank, 55 miles east of Dallas,
has been helping recovering drug users and alcoholics beat their addictions.
Mr. Robertson offers free treatment to those who can't afford it and accepts
payment on a sliding scale from those who can. Of the 30 residents at the
facility, 10 are from Plano and 15 are from elsewhere in the Dallas-Fort
Worth area. In all, Mr. Robertson says he has treated nearly 1,250 young men
from the area.
Some have come from as far away as Rio Grande City and from other states as
well, including Oklahoma, Louisiana and New Jersey.
Once residents make the pledge to take part in the six-month recovery
program, they are to attend daily Bible and recovery classes, as well as
nightly Alcoholics Anonymous classes. The residents are also expected to
attend church revivals off grounds and must keep up their weekly chores.
The House of Isaiah began in 1989 as a trailer on 50 acres with some
livestock. Now the facility consists of a house on a 120-acre lot with a
kitchen, recreation room, classroom and administrative offices. Most of Mr.
Robertson's residents are referred to him by judges, police, probation
officers, insurance companies, mental health facilities and churches.
Mr. Robertson, 49, based the name of the house on a passage from the Book of
Isaiah, 61:1, "The Spirit of the Lord is upon me to release the prisoners
and to set the captives free."
His mission - to teach and save - was honed on the playing fields by a
lifetime of coaching and mentoring young men.
"The whole key to the recovery is bonding with these young men and
developing a relationship so they can trust you," Mr. Robertson says.
Mr. Robertson builds relationships with the House of Isaiah residents in a
number of ways, at home and on the road.
On a recent afternoon, he accompanied Terry on a visit with his probation
officer.
He used the hourlong drive to listen to tapes of Fort Worth preacher Dale
Jentry extolling the virtues of clean living. Mr. Robertson considers him
one of his "spiritual gurus," and wanted to share his enthusiasm. He turned
the volume up. No one spoke the whole ride.
Terry, 21, of Greenville, sat in the back seat, quiet yet pensive, using a
rest stop to smoke a cigarette. His sunglasses hid his blue eyes. At one
point, he lifted his shirt to show the thick scar that runs from the middle
of his chest to his belly button.
"I put a gun to my chest and pulled the trigger. My mother found me," says
Terry. "I used heroin to come down from the cocaine. I was tired of shooting
dope, tired of being alive. Heroin has a way of bringing down your
self-esteem and emotions."
Terry had been to two other rehabilitation centers before coming to the
House of Isaiah.
"He's a great guy," Terry says of Mr. Robertson. "He's got a big heart. He's
positive inside. No matter how mad you are going into his office, you always
come out laughing, even if you're in trouble.
"At other treatment centers, there's so many in the chain of command. One
person tells you one thing. Someone else tells you another. He's the boss.
He's been there."
Mr. Robertson has many admirers who know him as a tough man with a soft
heart. "When you played against him, he tried to take your head off," says
former Dallas Cowboys quarterback Roger Staubach.
"I played against him all the time. If you played against him you said,
'This guy's a real jerk,' then when you meet him you realize that was him
being an entertainer on the field. He was a good character who, off the
field, was the kind of guy who was a lot of fun."
Mr. Staubach paraphrases a quote by Martin Luther King Jr. to describe his
friend and former nemesis: "You need to be aggressive like a serpent, tender
like a dove, you need a tough mind and a soft heart."
"Isiah, for all his toughness, has a real strong heart. He really cares,"
says Mr. Staubach, chairman and CEO of the Staubach Co. headquartered in Dallas.
"I think Isiah has always had this internal caring about him. Even through
the tough times. That's important. Some people never give back, when things
are going bad [instead] we're pointing fingers."
Mr. Robertson remembers the lure of drugs 13 years ago. After retiring from
a successful 12-year linebacking career in the NFL, Mr. Robertson went into
the cell phone business and became successful. He owned 14 homes and five
Mercedes.
"I didn't want to get involved in drugs," Mr. Robertson says. "I just
happened to get involved with successful people" who were involved with drugs.
After being introduced to crack cocaine, Mr. Robertson says, he spent
$20,000 on a 31-day binge. He entered rehabilitation programs but relapsed
to a $2,500-a-day habit. He sold his cars and homes to pay for his drug
habit and keep his business. Once the money ran out, he cut lawns and worked
at a car dealership to make a living.
One evening in 1986, two men drove a car through his L.A. home and beat him
severely. He says he would have been shot if the gun hadn't jammed. While
running away, Mr. Robertson was arrested by police and accused of possessing
cocaine. He wasn't charged, but spent a night in jail before he was
released. That's when he says he decided to come to terms with his addiction.
"My life was based on what people wanted me to be," Mr. Robertson says. "As
an athlete you're supposed to knock people's heads off on Sundays. Being a
linebacker off the field, you have to have a certain image, a certain
charisma. You become invincible and you develop these theories and values
that you can't get hurt."
He says that he liked "fast cars and pretty women." He said he got off track
with the things that were important to him, "like family, integrity." Mr.
Robertson has been married twice. He has one daughter from the first
marriage and three children by his second wife, Peggy.
Mr. Robertson was in rehab for three years, "two playing around . . . and
one in recovery."
He decided to move to Dallas after attending the Church on the Rock Bible
College in Rockwall. He says he dedicated his life to helping young men who
have made the same mistakes.
One of those young men is Joshua, a 23-year-old Carrollton man with purple
track marks scarring both arms.
"He's not like a father to me, but he is like a father to a lot of these
people," Joshua says. "When you start thinking stupid and straying off, you
go back into his office and he kicks your butt back in line and you start
thinking straight for another week until you start thinking stupid again."
Thinking straight is a big part of recovery, Mr. Robertson says. During
daily, Christian-based Bible and rehabilitation classes, Mr. Robertson
delivers the word of God to the residents, often to a chorus of cheers and
amens. Sometimes he takes his cues from his favorite preacher, Mr. Jentry,
and tells them that life is like a race and you have to run not only to win
but run with a purpose.
"You've got to protect your future," Mr. Robertson bellows.
"You've got to protect your potential. You've got to protect the gift that
God has given every one of you. Don't be afraid."
But Mr. Robertson knows he can't protect everyone. His charges often falter.
One of his former residents, Roy, 24, recently returned to the House of
Isaiah seeking refuge. He has fallen back into drugs and violated probation.
A warrant is out for his arrest; police could come at any time.
"You left here early and told me, 'Isiah, I am ready man. I know I can make
it. I mean God has spoke to me.' " He asks Roy to step up to the pulpit.
"So what is going through your mind now, Roy? What is going through your
mind now knowing that [any day now], every computer in the state of Texas is
going to have you in their system as a felon," Mr. Robertson barks.
"Roy is looking at 10 years. Just take 10 years and throw them in the
garbage can."
Roy is silent. He asks to be excused and quietly leaves.
Checked-by: Melodi Cornett
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