Craig Wolfley stepped off a commercial flight from Charlotte, N.C., on Saturday and knew he needed a COVID test.
The Steelers’ 63-year-old broadcaster had spent the previous few days on the road, covering the team’s final preseason game. He had been in and out of hotels, airports and planes. But the precautionary test, administered Monday morning, wasn’t as much about where he had been as where he was going.
Wolfley spent much of Monday afternoon in the intensive care unit of UPMC Mercy Hospital, where his best friend and former Steelers’ teammate Tunch Ilkin is battling pneumonia. Ilkin’s wife, Karen, drove him to the emergency room on the evening of Aug. 24, and as of late Thursday afternoon, Ilkin, 63, remained hospitalized, although his condition has stabilized, his wife said.
While he wasn’t experiencing any COVID symptoms, Wolfley refused to take any chances in readying for his visit.
“You worry, you just fret,” he said. “If I brought in anything to make him sicker, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. You know what I mean?”
Pneumonia is a serious concern for anyone, but especially for someone with amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), which is a progressive disease of the nervous system that affects nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord, causing loss of muscle control. In fact, pneumonia is among the leading causes of death for ALS patients because of decreased respiratory capacity, weakened diaphragm musculature and an accumulation of phlegm and mucus in the throat and nasal passage.
The man known to Steelers fans as “Wolf” was with Ilkin last September on the day when the former right tackle learned of his ALS diagnosis. Wolfley is among the toughest athletes Pittsburgh has produced, having played 12 NFL seasons, competed in World’s Strongest Man events, boxed and wrestled against sumos.
He cried for seven days — then steadied himself to be his brother’s keeper. Wolfley has dug in for a long fight, tending to the needs of his best friend of 41 years. Not a week passes without a visit to the Ilkin home to buoy the spirits of Tunch, Karen and the kids. The two buddies speak by phone on a daily basis.
“Wolf comes over, sometimes a couple times per week, depending on his schedule,” Karen said. “He truly is a brother. They have been together since 1980 and they have been through everything men possibly could go through. There’s never a time when they aren’t there for each other. This time is no exception. This has been extremely hard on Wolf.”
Wolfley and his wife, Faith, were at Ilkin’s bedside on Monday in the hospital. If laughter is the best medicine, the Ilkins were getting the best care possible as Wolfley lightened the mood with stories about their old summer conditioning routines. He told the family about the time Ilkin persuaded him to run five 350-yard dashes, the first one at full speed.
“By the fifth one, I feel like I’m in that movie 'Alien,' where the critter jumps out of (Sigourney Weaver’s) chest,” Wolfley said. “I remember as we’re staggering across the finish line, I turned to Tunch and said, ‘That’s the stupidest idea you’ve ever had.’ ”
The room filled with smiles. Wolfley knows the strength and character his friend possesses, and he believes Ilkin is trending in the right direction.
“He’s stable and he’s fighting through the infection,” Wolfley said. “He’s right where he needs to be. Sitting up and moving around. I’ve never heard him once say, ‘Why me? or, ‘Woe is me.’ He’s gonna fight it. Like I told him the other day, ‘You’re just too dang Turkish to quit.’ He’s a stubborn Turk.”
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TOM REED / DKPS
A section of a mural dedicated to Pittsburgh football broadcasters at Heinz Field featuring Tunch Ilkin, Bill Hillgrove and Craig Wolfley.
Three days before Ilkin was hospitalized, Wolfley sat in the media dining room of Heinz Field doing what he does best — being Craig Wolfley. He’s a natural-born storyteller blessed with a standup comic’s sense of timing. On this Saturday afternoon before the Steelers hosted the Lions, Wolfley was spinning yarns about his playing days. All the best stories involved Ilkin.
With Steelers’ play-by-play man Bill Hillgrove seated across the table, Wolfley launched into a tale about a game at old Cleveland Municipal Stadium in the 1980s. The Steelers were running out the clock on a victory when a can filled with beer came flying out of the Dawg Pound and nearly struck Wolfley.
“I said to Tunch, ‘What if I cracked that beer open and saluted the crowd?’ ” Wolfley recalled. “Tunch looks at me and says, ‘Well, I think you would start a riot and Chuck (Noll) would make you walk back home.’ ”
Over the course of 30 minutes, at least a half-dozen well-wishers approached the table, all with a variation of the same question: How is Tunch doing? Reporters, former players, a police officer, game-day staff employees. Wolfley greeted each one with a smile and he shared a few encouraging words.
“I’ve stayed away from texting and calling Tunch,” Hillgrove said. “I know his fight and I don’t want him wasting energy on me needlessly. Wolf has done a great job of serving as our liaison and keeping us appraised of what’s going on. He’s almost like a gatekeeper.”
Imagine landing a dream job and wishing it never had to be offered. That’s where Wolfley finds himself a month after being named Ilkin’s replacement as the color analyst in the booth.
Wolfley joined the Steelers’ broadcast team in 2005 only after Ilkin insisted he audition for a position. Ilkin had grown into a respected color analyst, but he missed not having his best friend around during training camps and on trips to road games. Wolfley was running a gym with his wife at the time and he initially balked at the idea, telling Ilkin: “I’m a walking concussion. What do I know about that kind of stuff?”
Ilkin persisted and the radio partnership began. Wolfley became a sideline reporter and co-hosted a radio show with Ilkin during the season. The audience grew to appreciate the chemistry, the analysis and Wolfley’s penchant for making up words on the fly during broadcasts.
They were at their best telling stories about their playing days under Noll.
“We were roommates together as rookies,” Wolfley said. “First night in Latrobe and Tunch is snoring like a locomotive, I mean he’s peeling paint off the walls. I can’t get any sleep. Suddenly, he sits up and starts rambling in Turkish. I’d never heard Turkish in my life. I’m like up against the wall trying to get away from him. Then, he just lays back down and falls asleep.”
In June, Ilkin announced his retirement from broadcasting to focus on his ALS fight. Karen said her husband’s issues with speech had reached a point where it was time to step away after 23 years. Two months later, Wolfley was promoted to the booth while former Steelers offensive lineman Max Starks assumed his sideline duties.
Wolfley was humbled, honored and saddened by the circumstances.
“If I had my druthers, I’d still be on the sideline with my brother up in the booth,” he said. “There is a huge legacy in that chair with Myron (Cope), Merril (Hoge) and Tunch. That’s an incredible heritage.”
He’s prepared for his new gig by talking with the two analysts he admires most — Ilkin and his brother Ron Wolfley, a former Pro Bowl special-teams standout who calls games for the Cardinals. He’s spent the offseason studying film and broadening his scope. Wolfley always has been good at analyzing line play, but he’s immersed himself in coverage schemes and the intricate responsibilities of offensive playmakers.
Hillgrove has been impressed with the transition.
“Coming from the field perspective to the booth, I didn’t expect a bumpy road,” Hillgrove said. “I thought it would be smooth, and it’s been just that. He’s doing a great job.”
Prior to Super Bowl XL, Ilkin and Wolfley called Cope from the press box in Detroit to tell him they were thinking of the retired broadcasting legend. Wolfley is now doing the same with Ilkin. Before each preseason game, he dials up his chum and talks to him for a few minutes before kickoff.
During the fourth quarter of the Lions’ preseason game, Starks told listeners that members of the chain gang were sending along their best wishes to Ilkin. Wolfley grew emotional as he addressed the audience, dropping his nickname for Ilkin on the air.
“Chalooch, we miss you, brother. We love you.”
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KAREN ILKIN
Tunch Ilkin and his wife, Karen.
Ilkin was rudderless in 2012 after his first wife, Sharon, died of breast cancer. His best friend not only picked up his broadcast duties for a spell as Ilkin grieved, but eventually introduced him to his future wife.
“Wolf is our (shadchan), our matchmaker,” Karen said laughing.
Wolfley has become part of the Ilkin family. Through the years, he’s partnered with Ilkin on many of his philanthropic and spiritual endeavors, raising money for numerous Pittsburgh charities and causes.
“He has so greatly affected so many people in this town and the football community,” Wolfley said. “Tunch is truly a leader, an incredibly courageous man.”
That courage has never been more evident than in the past year.
“Throughout this whole thing, he’s been the one experiencing it, but he’s also been the one lifting up our spirits,” Karen said. “The day he got the (ALS) diagnosis, he said, ‘I’m going to fight this thing.’ He quoted Philippians 4:13: ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’ Those were literally the first words out of his mouth.”
Karen has been overwhelmed by the support of the Steelers’ organization and Pittsburgh community. Through a connection with former Steelers offensive tackle Jon Kolb, Ilkin has worked diligently to maintain his strength.
Kolb, a director of physical training at Adventures In Training With A Purpose, has Ilkin walking three miles twice a week on a treadmill in a pool that supplies resistance as he moves forward, backward and sideways. The results are encouraging. Ilkin continues to walk without assistance. The only physical weakness he exhibits is a slight loss in hand strength, Karen said.
“Tunch is a fighter,” she said. “He fought to come to America. He fought to get a scholarship in college. He fought to get drafted. He got cut and he fought to be back to the team. It’s the same now. He doesn’t complain. He just keeps moving.”
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CRAIG WOLFLEY
Army Major Kyle Jacob Wolfley, flanked by two children in Afghanistan holding a Terrible Towel, circa 2011.
For years, Wolfley traveled through airports and witnessed military families saying their goodbyes to loved one headed into the maw of Middle Eastern hot spots. The poignant scenes always caught Wolfley’s attention, but it wasn’t until a decade ago when he fully grasped the emotional weight.
That’s when Army Major Kyle Jacob Wolfley departed on a one-year tour of Afghanistan. Wolfley spent nights wracked with fear knowing his son was on the other side of the world patrolling a region filled with peril.
Every unknown number appearing on his cell phone sparked dread. Each vehicle driving around his neighborhood with government plates created alarm.
“You just think it could be someone about to tell you that you’ve lost your child,” Wolfley recalled. “You hear about the sacrifices military families make, but you can’t truly appreciate it until you are one of them. It breaks my heart thinking about our Gold Star families. When I see soldiers saying goodbye to their families now, I just want to hug every one of them.”
Kyle returned home safely, and he continues to serve his nation stateside.
Wolfley was asked about his fears of the unknown and how they relate to his best friend. Elite athletes are conditioned to face adversity, but dealing with life-and-death matters beyond their control is different than anything most have experienced.
In these times, Wolfley draws strength from his faith.
“It’s a trust in God, man,” he said. “That is the rock-solid foundation of my life. I walk as a follower of Jesus Christ, and so does Tunch.”
LIGHT OF LIFE
Tunch Ilkin and Craig Wolfley at a Light of Light event.
Medication and therapy can slow ALS and reduce discomfort, but there's no cure. While the mean survival time is two to five years, according to the ALS Association website, some patients have lived beyond 10 years. Diagnosed in 2011, former Saints special-teams dynamo Steve Gleason still inspires the ALS community with his fight and willingness to raise awareness and money to combat the disease.
Gleason was awarded the Congressional Gold Medal in 2019.
“Everyone is rallying around Tunch,” Karen said. “Tunch’s mom is still alive, and she’s a prayer warrior. Everyone knows how tough he is and what he’s facing.”
The most immediate concern is conquering the infection and getting Ilkin home, where Wolfley can resume their chats on the back patio. The next step is returning to the pool and his underwater treadmill work.
Ilkin and Kolb are readying for another special walk. They are among four former Steelers — Carnell Lake and Louis Lipps are the others — named to franchise’s 2021 Hall of Honor. The Steelers’ legends are tentatively scheduled to be recognized on the weekend of Nov. 13-14.
One can only imagine Ilkin’s reception as he’s introduced to the Heinz Field crowd.
“I look forward to that day for him,” Wolfley said. “I look forward to him being able to enjoy the fruits of a great career.”
Hillgrove, 80, has watched the relationship of Wolfley and Ilkin unfold from their time as players to broadcast partners to caregivers.
“It’s beyond friendship,” Hillgrove said. “I don’t think anyone in the history of the league has been in that close of a proximity for such a sustained period of time as they have. We’re talking 41 years. It’s a brotherhood, and it’s probably something deeper than that. I can’t explain it.”
Hillgrove and Wolfley will do their first regular-season game together Sept. 12 from Buffalo. There will be nerves and excitement, the familiar feelings that accompany every new season.
And sometime in the hour before kickoff, Wolfley will pick up his cell phone and call back to Pittsburgh. Just to hear a friendly voice.
