Wounded Eagles coach carrying on

BETHLEHEM, Pa. — Andy Reid, humbled and still grieving, went back to work at 10:56 a.m. Wednesday.

Less than 24 hours after he buried his eldest boy, Garrett.

Reid emerged from the passenger side of his black SUV, was handed a practice schedule and roster by an assistant, then lumbered toward a distant corner of the Lehigh fields where his 90 players and voluminous staff awaited his words.

More than 100 yards away, out of earshot and forbidden to videotape the moment, 30 reporters watched.

Reid spoke to the team for perhaps one minute. It then dispersed and meandered through a typically mundane pregame walk-through — a walk-through Garrett would have watched. After casting about for years, Garrett lately acted as an unofficial strength and conditioning assistant.

The Eagles play host to Pittsburgh tonight. Reid will be on the sideline. Garrett, who died Sunday, will not.

Garrett was 29 when, according to Reid, he lost his battle with drug addiction. He was found dead in his Lehigh dorm room.

Remarkably, incredibly, Reid spoke with reporters for 18 minutes after the walk-through.

He answered every question imaginable. Every one. He never quavered. Not once. He displayed a humanity, a vulnerability, he never before showed in his nearly 14 years as the Eagles’ head coach.

“I’m a humbled man standing before you, a very humbled man,” Reid said. “I’m humbled because of the outpouring. I’m not sure you ever think that many people care.

“I’m sure my son would feel the same way.”

And, typically, Reid was anticipatory of criticism, and defiant.

“I know that coming back and coaching was the right thing to do,” he said. “I know my son wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. In my heart, I just felt it, in my heart. The support of my family. My wife. “With that, I move on.” He recited the eight Eagles whose injuries will keep them out of the game and detailed the team’s plan for using starters and backups.

Business as usual, for a minute or so.

Over the next 14 minutes, Reid fielded zero football-related questions. He declined to provide details of how he knew Garrett’s death was drug-related and brushed aside a couple of other questions, but Wednesday morning he did so gently.

Like a man recently wounded. A man weakened, but certain of his recovery.

He thanked the assembled media for its compassion; the fans and his team for their gushing support; and the NFL, whose representatives flocked to the Mormon temple in Broomall for services Tuesday morning, attended by nearly 1,000 mourners.

Unprovoked, Reid offered a glimpse into his family’s daily panic over the addictions that gripped Garrett and his younger brother, Britt. They are the eldest of Reid’s five children.

Drugs sent both to jail; Garrett, twice.

Britt, married this summer and coaching football at Temple, seems to have righted himself.

Garrett, with a new physique and a less rambunctious lifestyle, never did.

“It’s a sad situation. It’s one my son has been battling for a number of years. My family has been battling,” Reid said. “It doesn’t mean you stop loving your son. It’s not what you do. You love him.”

Reid said he felt strength from his football family the way he drew it from his own family since he left the team Sunday morning, when Garrett was found.

“I feel their love, their comfort,” Reid said.

He spoke with his church leaders and Kevin Elko, a sports psychologist and a counselor who also has acted as grief counselor to Reid, his family and the team. He spoke with Tony Dungy, the former NFL coach whose teenage son killed himself during the 2005 season.

Reid returned to camp Wednesday morning in time to address the team at a pre-practice assembly. He thanked them for their caring. It was the first time he had spoken with them since midday Sunday, when he explained that Garrett’s death would take him away from the team for a few days.

“I had an opportunity to address the football team, which I needed to do,” Reid said.

Again and again Reid returned to the central thought that, while his family and his parents have gaping holes in their souls with his passing, Garrett was in a “better place, at peace.”

Fighting addiction for nearly a decade, Reid said, is “like fighting a grizzly bear. It’s hard to win.”

Now, the Reid clan has its own fight.

“You’ve got to get it out,” he said. “You’re going to cry a little bit. You’re going to laugh a little bit. You’re going to cry some more, you’re going to laugh some more. This is life. This is life.”

Michael Vick, who, like Garrett Reid, spent time in jail, had bonded with Garrett. Vick said he would dedicate this season to Garrett’s memory.

Vick and Garrett were friends, Andy Reid noted. So were Andy Reid and Garrett — the normal progression as children become adults.

“He taught me a lot of lessons in life that I’ll use down the road,” Reid said.

Hard, hard lessons.

Andy Reid