THE NEW DITKA : After a Mild Heart Attack, Bear Coach Has a Different Perspective on Life in the NFL

The question just hung there, suspended in phone space, waiting--no, begging--for a vintage Mike Ditka insult. This was the interview equivalent of a fastball down the middle of the plate, a breakaway layup, getting dealt the 4 of spades to fill your inside straight.

“Mike,” the reporter asked, “what was your reaction when you heard about Buddy Ryan almost choking on a pork chop?”

Oh, this would be good. Ditka on archenemy Ryan, the former defensive coordinator of the Chicago Bears who now coaches the Philadelphia Eagles. Ditka and Ryan coexisted much like Germany and the Soviet Union once did: badly. When Ryan left Ditka’s Bear coaching staff in 1986, he nearly was injured, what with the door shutting so fast behind him.

So here was Ditka, presented with one of the great open-ended inquiries of all time, and what does he do?

It’s embarrassing, really.

First, he chuckles. A friendly chuckle, too. Not a malicious sound to be heard. Then, calmly and soothingly, he, well, ignores the chance to rip Ryan and instead, plugs his downtown Chicago restaurant.

“I know one thing: It wasn’t a Ditka pork chop because those things are so tender, you can never choke on one.”

No, this can’t be happening. What they’ve said is true. Ditka, of all people, has mellowed. He went and found sensitivity. Understanding. Compassion. It is an unnerving discovery.

Of course, it took a mild heart attack to do it. After all, Ditka doesn’t change without good reason.

On Nov. 2, Ditka arrived at the Bears’ Lake Forest, Ill., facility at about 5 a.m. He hadn’t been sleeping particularly well or long and he was tired, noticeably so. As usual, he began his morning workout, a strenuous program that included 2,000 leg lifts in the whirlpool, heavy weightlifting in a rubber suit and running on a treadmill--at a 6-minutes per mile pace.

He didn’t feel well when he finished. He was dizzy, nauseated and there was a pain in his chest. Despite the warning signs, Ditka insisted that he keep his morning schedule. He was supposed to introduce then-presidential candidate George Bush that day at a campaign function. He couldn’t miss that, he said.

But then his assistant coaches and team trainers intervened. Ditka was taken to the hospital, where it was determined that Iron Mike’s pumper wasn’t so ironclad. There was blockage, caused by a clot located in the lower back area of his heart. He was lucky. And he knows it, too.

“If you’re asking, ‘Is it a calmer Mike Ditka?’ Yeah, it’s a calmer Mike Ditka and it’s one who appreciates life a hell of a lot more than I did 4 weeks ago,” he said. “Other than that, I don’t think I’m too much different. I just promised myself to control the things I can control and not worry about the things I can’t--and not try to mix them up.”

According to Ditka, not even his cardiologist, Jay Alexander, is entirely sure what prompted the heart attack. Stress is a possibility, as are a virus, sudden shock.

“It could have been a lot of things,” Ditka said. “But after they examined me, (they said) my arteries are very clean, that my heart is very clean. I think I’m eating properly. I’m thinking about what I’m doing.

“I’m sleeping a little more than I was. I wasn’t sleeping very much and I thought that had a little bit to do with it because I was quite tired. Hopefully, that will eliminate it, plus the fact that I’ve now become a very jovial guy.”

That sobbing you hear is from network camera operators everywhere, who made careers of zooming in on Ditka’s sideline tantrums. Now there is calm where clipboards once flew, peace where rage once presided and, dare we say it, tranquility?

‘Tis true.

The new Ditka even fancies himself as a marketing and advertising whiz. For instance, remember how his soup commercials used to feature a gruff, demanding Ditka stalking the kitchen in search of the chunky stuff? Yes, well, the new Ditka has a way around that, should this matter of altered image come up.

“We’re going to come up with a new campaign now: I was a mean guy until I started eating Campbell’s soup. Now I’ve become a very likeable guy,” he said earnestly. “I want to present that to them, though they’ll probably reject it.”

Turn down Mr. Mellow? Nah.

The new Ditka also doesn’t smoke stogies the size of kielbasas anymore. He pulls into work at about 7 a.m. instead of 5. The rubber suit is history. So are the 2,000 leg lifts and the Frank Shorter treadmill imitations.

Now he works out only three times a week, and each session is monitored by a cardiologist. And guess what? The new Ditka doesn’t mind a bit.

And, while his life style has changed, Ditka’s desire to win has not. He remains demanding and intense, a study in determination. Nor did the heart attack alter his need to coach. As he prepares his team for a meeting against the Rams Monday night at Anaheim, retirement seems far, far away.

“I’ve thought about it, but then again, I think when I finish what I set out to do, accomplish a few goals for this team, I’ll feel well enough to sit back and talk about retirement realistically,” he said. “Right now, it’s not that time, believe me. This was just a minor setback.”