Concerns grow as teammates pass away

The song in the musical “Les Miserables” about fallen compatriots is called “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.” It’s the feeling Mark Higgs had Wednesday evening as he called his friend and former Dolphins teammate, Jeff Cross.

“Did you hear about Chuck?” Higgs asked. “I just heard,” Cross said. “He was 52,’’ Higgs said. Higgs didn’t need to add anything more. Chuck Klingbeil, a Dolphins defensive tackle from 1991 to 1995, died of unknown causes in his native Michigan at the same age as Higgs and Cross.

Same team. Same memories. Same relatively young age. And now there’s another empty chair at what is becoming an emptying table around them.

“It’s so sad, and crazy, and it makes you ask, ‘Am I next?’” Higgs said.

Klingbeil is the fourth defensive lineman from the 1991 Dolphins to die. He’s the eighth player from that team to pass away. Team reunions, once a grounds for fun stories and loud memories, now are equally known for friends counseling each other to lose some weight or take care of a health issue.

Cross, also a defensive lineman, has watched the players he went to meetings with and lined up beside die. Shawn Lee, 44, died of a cardiac arrest. T.J. Turner, 46, suffered a stroke. Alfred Oglesby, 42, had a heart attack.

Now it’s Klingbeil, who rose from being an undersized nose tackle at 6 feet 1 inch, to the Canadian league’s defensive player of the year, to a five-year Dolphins starter. Since football, he talked of being addicted to painkillers for 30 years. But weight, often a killer of big men’s hearts, wasn’t his problem. He was down to 225 pounds when Higgs saw him a couple of years ago.

“I didn’t even recognize him, he’d lost so much weight,’’ Higgs said.

Cross remained in touch through the years, despite Klingbeil living up north.

They’d talk or text every couple of months, including an annual call about the Super Bowl betting line.

“Our lockers were near each other, we played alongside each other for years and we hit it off right away,’’ Cross said. “We had a similar approach to the game. In meetings, we always sat next to each other and traded thoughts.

Why do their teammates go and they stay? And for how long? We all ask questions like that when a friend dies. But with the question needing more science is football’s part in all of this. The anecdotal evidence is clear.

“This is actually pretty freaking scary to me, losing him,’’ Cross said. “Scary in the sense that most of the friends I’ve had that have passed, they’ve all been former ballplayers. Guys who didn’t play ball and our age — they seem OK.”

“Football has a lot to do to it, but everyone knows when you sign up to play football it comes with a price,’’ Higgs said. “It’s not all glamour or glory. We knew the cost that would come with it. It’s not normal.”

They’ve seen the other teammates go. David Griggs died as a player in a car accident, the only one on that 1991 team to pass from a non-health issue. Punter Reggie Roby died at 43 from heart problems. Safety Jarvis Williams was gone at 45 after an acute asthma attack.

When guard Harry Galbreath died of a heart attack at 45 in 2010, the deaths reached a point that teammates took notice. His fellow guard, Keith Sims, had lap-band surgery to lose weight. Tackle Jeff Dellenbach committed to losing significant weight.

As players, they were fearless. As middle-aged men, they can be fearful. Cross is dealing with a nerve issue in his back that kept him on a couch for nearly a week recently and demanded a fifth epidural shot this year last week.

Higgs had his own health issue when his leg ballooned up on a long flight, causing severe problems. He remembers his final year in football, with the Cardinals, when the entire right side was numb from a nerve problem.

“It’s the part of the game no one sees,’’ he said.

What everyone sees are Sunday afternoons. Klingbeil had a memorable one in 1991 when Green Bay quarterback Don Majkowski’s hand was sweating so much in a South Florida September he lost the grip of the football in his end zone.

It sat there for Klingbeil to fall on for a touchdown.

“Like a big Christmas present,’’ Klingbeil said.

That’s how we like to remember sports stars. A big day. A great moment. But to those who lined up with Klingbeil, and stayed friends all these years later, the news of his passing is more than sad. It’s downright scary.

Dave Hyde