Calling it a career

[Cheesehead]

To say Engel appreciates Burruss’ guidance over the last two decades in general and the last few years in particular would be a glaring understatement.


“The opportunity to teach I think has never been far from him,” Engel said. “To learn from his experiences and for him to freely offer those, and for him to give me a piece of himself in terms of that experience and that knowledge is something I’m forever grateful for.”


Burruss’ impact on the department was felt early, as he modernized the Packers’ medical operation upon arrival. The way he put it, “the only computer in the training room was on a piece of exercise equipment” when he showed up, and Wolf gave him the authority to do what was needed in terms of the physician staff, electronic injury records, supply systems, and the like.


“I knew when I walked into the training room in 1992 that I could help,” he said. “If I walked into a fully oiled, magnificently running machine that was cutting edge, I would have said I don’t know what I can do here. But the Packers had come off a pretty meager 25 years, budgetary considerations were always what they were. Whatever the words, whether they were stuck in the mud or not, I was able to come in and take a ’70s operation immediately into the ’90s.


“I don’t know how you describe the legacy, but the legacy was not to take it to the next level, just get it up to speed, and now as I’m leaving I’m watching these young guys walking into a new GM and a new coach like I did and already putting their fingerprint on what’s going on in this room.”


That fingerprint will always have traces of Burruss’ quest to stay a step ahead and keep the future in mind, whether that involved the Lambeau Field training room’s renovations and changes over the years, or bigger-picture medical advances and league initiatives involving player care and safety.


“The forward thinking, and never being satisfied with the status quo – that thought process and that kind of edict he’s engrained in this department,” Engel said. “He’s always looking for a better way, and he’s always trying to head off problems before they could even be problems, even if that meant they were five years down the road.


“It’s not just Green Bay he’s left a stamp on. I think the league he’s left a stamp on as well.”


Running the gamut


The memories are endless, from the dramatic, intense and highly visible to the simple, light-hearted and never really seen.


He was part of the Jets’ medical team that took care of Dennis Byrd following a horrific on-field collision, and he still remembers Byrd saying, “Peppy, I can’t move my legs. I’ve broken my neck.” Miraculously, Byrd eventually walked again.


Burruss also had Packers receivers coach Gil Haskell at his feet on the sidelines in Dallas at the ’95 NFC title game after Haskell’s head slammed the turf upon getting plowed into by a couple of players. Haskell remained unresponsive for several minutes.


“I’ve got a pulse, I’ve got this, I’ve got breathing, that’s what we were talking about,” Burruss said of the immediate conversation with the doctors. Haskell was in intensive care for three days with a skull fracture and was discharged from the hospital after 11 days total, and he went on to coach 13 more years in the NFL.


“When craziness happens, the stadium shrinks,” Burruss said.


Then there were the friendly quips with Favre during timeouts, like reminding the ultimate risk-taker which color jersey the Packers were wearing that day. And the ritual two-finger handshake with Rodgers right after he’d photobomb the pregame captains’ picture.


It’s all added up to 883 NFL games, counting preseason, regular season, playoffs and Pro Bowls, 567 of them with the Packers, including 38 postseason contests. He’s worked with 56 different Pro Bowl players in his career, 45 of them in Green Bay.


Whether he’s an amateur historian or a pack rat depends on perspective, but he still has the brochure from that athletic training summer camp and the letter Newell wrote him advising against coming to Purdue. His Jets field pass from Nov. 29, 1992, still hangs prominently from an autographed picture of Byrd in his office. There isn’t room to describe everything he kept from his two Super Bowl victories with the Packers, and the list of personal artifacts goes on and on.