Nearly a decade after he first had a thought of preserving Tillman’s locker when the time came, Jim Omohundro was at Oregano’s – a local restaurant – in February of 2015 waiting for his salad and slice to arrive at his table.
He checked Twitter. He saw a Tweet that included a photo of the demolition of the facility’s locker room, which was undergoing renovations. After uttering an expletive under his breath, he called vice president of marketing Lisa Manning to see how far the workers had gotten.
“You better hurry up,” was her reply.
Omohundro threw a $20 bill on the table, his food not yet arrived, and scrambled out of the restaurant. He raced back to the facility, which was just down the street, and sprinted through the building toward the locker room. He lost his right shoe after some exposed carpet glue sucked it off his foot, and he hopped his last few feet where he saw one of the workers with the electric saw being used to cut up the old wood lockers.
Fortunately, there were still a handful of lockers left to dismantle – including Tillman’s, which was next to be taken down.
“Wait, wait, wait, hold up,” Omohundro said.
Message received. The locker was carefully cut out and saved, moved to storage until its current display was put together.
“It’s in a perfect area,” Michael Bidwill said. “It’s really a landmark within our building, and serves as an important reminder for (Tillman’s) sacrifice and also his spirit.”
Frank Sanders was a wide receiver who played four seasons with Tillman, one of the few who Tillman told his military aspirations before they unfolded. For Sanders, Tillman’s story is special in part because it underscores that players are more than the game they play.
“There’s another version of your life, and what motivates you and moves you needs to be expressed and learned or followed,” Sanders said. “No one could believe the idea, you will give up the NFL … and go to the army. And then not just go to the army, but go to the army and say, ‘Don’t…