Sense of charity is Taylor-made

Aaron Taylor has heeded his life's lessons. Age, experience, successes and struggles have shaped his perspective in tangible ways.

For example, more than a decade after playing offensive tackle for Notre Dame and cowering in Lou Holtz's presence, Taylor understands a fact of life he never fully appreciated back then.

He could take Holtz.

We were all so scared of him as players; he had such an intimidating little way about him," Taylor says, laughing at his youthful fear of a skinny guy who lisped and smoked a pipe.

"But now that we're out, I've kind of awakened. All of us have," he says, building toward the moral of the story, "and realized that we could kick his butt."

Taylor will be in attendance next Saturday for the Blue-Gold Game. Holtz will serve as a guest coach.

While he admits the sight of Holtz on the sideline again might "send chills down my spine," Taylor has the sturdier backbone between them now.

"So if he pops off," Taylor says, "you might see me and Holtz rolling around in the mud and me giving him some noogies."

As if seeing Jimmy Clausen removed from the bubble wrap of hype and speculation hasn't stirred enough anticipation for the spring game already.

An awareness that Taylor could rough up his old coach, as satisfying as that must be, represents only the light-hearted surface of his enlightened sense of himself.

In ways much deeper than the looming physical presence of a former offensive lineman, he is a bigger man now.

Taylor will be recognized for that Thursday in South Bend when he receives the Distinguished American Award from the Moose Krause Chapter of the National Football Foundation. It honors his philanthropic commitment as much as his All-American career at Notre Dame and Super Bowl championship with the Green Bay Packers.

Football gave his life structure and meaning from his high school years at dominant DeLaSalle in Concord, Calif., until he retired from the NFL in 1999.

For a while after that, he felt lost without the defined routine and wandered through some dark days, searching.

"It took me through alcoholism, it took me through bouts of depression," Taylor says, "it took me through redefining what my purpose was."

Now he defines himself in terms of the help he provides. He founded the Aaron Taylor IMPACT Fund to raise money for his varied charitable interests.

"I'm an equal-opportunity philanthropist," he says, although the term "renaissance fundraiser" might be more apt.

His causes have spanned the globe from tsunami-ravaged Sri Lanka to domestic child-care and educational issues to struggling NFL retirees in his hometown of San Diego.

He is the co-founder and CEO of a company called All Star Axess, which donates a percentage of its profits to charity.

Another current project involves establishing a non-profit organization to help offset the health-care costs for former NFL players who do not have the medical benefits he does. For every pre-approved act of community service the players in need perform, Taylor's organization would donate $100 toward their insurance premiums.

And as president of the San Diego Chapter of the NFL Retired Players' Association, his personal experience helps him counsel others making the transition from football.

"There's some pretty staggering statistics about what happens to professional football players once they retire," Taylor says. "Three out of four, within one year of retirement, are at least one of the following: chemically dependent, bankrupt or divorced."

He repeated that, as if sounded unbelievable even to him.

But even Taylor, who earned a sociology degree from Notre Dame in 1994 and had interests far beyond the field, experienced the harsh truth of those statistics.

"It's a crash-and-burn for a lot of guys. And even a guy such as myself that quote-unquote had my stuff together, it was hugely emotionally trying to make that transition," Taylor says. "I didn't know what to do."

That dilemma remains, but only in the sense that he has to choose between so many charitable options.

New ideas occur to him all the time. Each year Taylor evaluates the causes closest to his heart and decides where to devote his time and resources.

"I'm in the business, really, of trying to find solutions where there's needs," he says, a huge undertaking that requires someone of Taylor's stature to tackle.

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