The Kansas City Chiefs selected running back Joe Delaney out of Louisianaâs Northwestern State in the second round (41st overall) in the 1981 NFL Draft.
During a time when the team wasnât very good, Delaney was a shining star in Kansas City. During his rookie season, he ran for 1,121 yards (and three touchdowns) on 234 attempts, averaging 4.8 yards per carry. He also collected 246 yards on 22 catches.
Following the strike-shortened 1982 season, Delaney was back home in Louisiana. While visiting an amusement park with some friends in Monroe on June 29, Delaney drowned while trying to save three children in a nearby pond.
Sports Illustrated writer Frank Deford told the story in a 1983 article:
There was a huge hole there, carved out of the earth some time ago. The hole had filled with water, and three boys waded in. They didnât know it, but a short way out the bottom dropped off precipitously, and suddenly the boys were in over their heads and thrashing and screaming. There were all sorts of people around, but only Joe dashed to the pond. There was a little boy there. âCan you swim?â he asked Joe.
âI canât swim good,â Joe said, âbut Iâve got to save those kids. If I donât come up, get somebody.â And he rushed into the water.
One boy fought his way back to the shallow part. The other two didnât. Neither did Joe Delaney, 24. He was hauled out a few minutes later, dead. He gave his own life trying to save three others.
Today, Delaney is remembered in the Chiefs Hall of Fame and Ring of Honor. While his number (37) has never been officially retired, no other Kansas City player has ever worn it.
ESPN produced a â30 for 30â on Delaney. Friend-of-the-site Vahe Gregorian of the Kansas City Star wrote a tribute. In 2020, a monument honoring Delaneyâs sacrifice was installed in Louisiana.
In a comment to Arrowhead Prideâs 2010 Delaney remembrance, reader trlwyr left a comment that Joel Thorman memorialized in 2011.
âIâve been going to Chiefs games since Municipal Stadium. Theyâve been a big part of my life. My Dad put it in me, and that Chiefs stain donât wash off. Not that Iâve tried.
âJoe Delaney was a gift, an oasis in the desert of losing. For just a brief moment, he took us back to the glory days. Look at that middle bar on his facemask, and, if youâre old enough, tell me that doesnât remind you of Mike Garrett, running 65 Toss Power Trap in New Orleans against the Vikings.
âArrowhead, donât remember the date, donât remember the opponent, donât matter. Beautiful Fall Sunday afternoon, and Joe tore it up. He played as if he enjoyed playing, which is all I ever expected of my team. Itâs best when it looks like theyâre having fun, right? He had the shiftiness of Garrett, the silkiness of Marcus Allen, the speed of Jamaal, and, when he needed it, the power in his legs of Tony Richardson and Christian Okoye. And that day, the one day I got to see him in person, he flat tore it up. I think he ran for over 150, but this isnât about stats. You couldnât take your eyes off him. On the field, or on the sidelines. He had so much fun that day. A man doing what he loved to do.
âI donât usually get to sit as close as I did that day. But I was close. Game over, Chiefs won. Coming off the field, the players walked right by me. Slapping hands, some did, some didnât.
âHere comes Joe. Smiling. I held out my hand, and he looked right at me. He didnât just slap my hand, he took it. Held it. And he cuffed me behind my head and said, âAinât this fun?â The picture of him above is exactly what he looked like when he said it. A happy man.
âI cried like a baby when I heard. Iâm crying now. Itâs not just because he was a Chief. And itâs not just because if heâd lived he would without a doubt have become one of the greatest running backs in history.
âItâs because for that one brief moment, I got to look into the eyes of a truly good man.â
Rest in peace, Joe. In Chiefs Kingdom, you will never be forgotten.