The story of Ricky Bell running back isn't just about football. It's about a man who was arguably the best player in the country at one point and then, almost overnight, vanished into a medical nightmare that most people couldn't even pronounce. If you grew up watching the late '70s NFL, you remember him as the workhorse who turned the Tampa Bay Buccaneers from a national punchline into a playoff contender. But if you're younger, his name might only ring a bell because of a tear-jerker TV movie from the early '90s.
Honest truth? He was better than the stats say.
In an era of brutal, ground-and-pound football, Ricky Bell was the hammer. He didn't dance. He didn't look for the sidelines. He ran through people until they didn't want to tackle him anymore. Then, at age 29, he was gone.
From USC Legend to the First Overall Pick
Before he was a pro, Ricky Bell was "the guy" at USC. We're talking about a school that produced Marcus Allen and O.J. Simpson, yet Bell still holds records there. In 1975, he led the entire nation in rushing with 1,875 yards. Think about that for a second. That's nearly 2,000 yards in an 11-game season without the modern training or pass-heavy schemes we see today.
He was a physical specimen. At 6-foot-2 and around 220 pounds, he had the frame of a linebacker—which is actually where he started his college career. When John McKay moved him to tailback, the world changed. He ended up finishing as the Heisman runner-up in 1976, losing out to Tony Dorsett.
When McKay took the head coaching job for the expansion Tampa Bay Buccaneers, he knew exactly who he wanted. He bypassed Dorsett to take Bell with the number one overall pick in 1977. It was a move that sparked endless debate in Florida bars for years. Dorsett went to Dallas and became a superstar immediately. Bell? He went to a team that had lost every single game in its debut season.
The 1979 Season: When Ricky Bell Saved Tampa Bay
For two years, it looked like the critics were right. Bell struggled. The Bucs kept losing. People called him a bust. But 1979 changed everything.
Basically, Bell decided he wasn't going to let them lose anymore. He put up 1,263 rushing yards and caught 25 passes. He was the engine of an offense that finally gave that legendary "Orange Crush" defense some breathing room. The peak of his career—and honestly, one of the gutsiest performances in playoff history—came against the Philadelphia Eagles in the divisional round.
Bell carried the ball 38 times. That is an insane workload. He racked up 142 yards and two touchdowns, literally dragging the Buccaneers to their first-ever playoff win. They were one game away from the Super Bowl.
The Mystery Illness That No One Saw Coming
By 1981, something was wrong. You could see it in his gait. His weight started dropping. Fans who didn't know better—and even some teammates—thought he was just getting "soft" or "lazy."
It was actually dermatomyositis.
This is a rare inflammatory disease that causes skin rashes and, more importantly, severe muscle weakness. For a Ricky Bell running back career built on power and explosion, this was a death sentence. His muscles were literally attacking themselves. He was traded to the San Diego Chargers in 1982 to reunite with Don Coryell, but he wasn't the same man.
He’d go from a 225-pound bruiser to a man who struggled to climb a flight of stairs. He retired in 1983, but he didn't tell the world how sick he was. He kept it private, focusing on his family and a young boy named Ryan Blankenship, a fan with multiple disabilities whom Bell had befriended. Their bond became the heart of the movie A Triumph of the Heart.
The Final Stats (Context is Key)
If you look at his career totals, they don't scream "Hall of Fame."
- Rushing Yards: 3,063
- Touchdowns: 16
- Average per Carry: 3.7
But stats are liars. Bell played on some of the worst offensive lines in the history of the sport during those early Tampa years. He was hit in the backfield more often than most backs are hit at the line of scrimmage. If you put 1979 Ricky Bell on the 1979 Dallas Cowboys, we’re talking about a gold jacket candidate.
What Really Happened in November 1984
On November 28, 1984, the football world stopped. Ricky Bell died of heart failure brought on by dermatomyositis. He was 29.
It felt impossible. How does a man who looked like a Greek god five years earlier just... stop? The disease had caused his heart muscle to weaken to the point of collapse. It was a tragedy that transcended sports.
People often forget that he was a father and a husband, not just a jersey number. He left behind a wife, Natalia, and two young children. His death forced the NFL community to look at the human side of the "gladiators" they watched on Sundays.
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Why His Legacy Still Matters Today
Ricky Bell matters because he represents the "lost" era of the Buccaneers and the sheer fragility of athletic greatness. He wasn't a guy who chased fame. He was a guy who worked.
If you want to truly understand his impact, look at how his teammates spoke of him. Lee Roy Selmon, the hall of fame defensive end, spoke of Bell with a level of reverence usually reserved for royalty. He was the soul of those early Tampa teams.
Actionable Insight for Fans and Historians:
If you want to see what peak Ricky Bell running back play looked like, go find the grainy footage of the 1979 playoff game against the Eagles. Don't look at the score. Look at his 30th carry. Look at how he lowers his shoulder when every bone in his body must have been screaming for him to stop. That’s the real Ricky Bell.
To honor his memory today, many fans support the Myositis Association, which funds research for the very disease that took him. Understanding the symptoms of dermatomyositis—like the "heliotrope" purple rash on eyelids or sudden muscle fatigue—is still the best way to catch this rare condition before it causes irreversible damage.