SE: Miller Fought to the Very End
Jan 11, 2022 | Football, Sports Extra
By: D. Scott Fritchen
In the end, Matt Miller, one of the grittiest quarterbacks in Kansas State history, had one big weakness and one key strength: his toughness. A little more than 18 months ago, he'd begun experiencing pain in his body that he attributed to lingering football injuries. It could've been anything, he reasoned. He would tough it out. When Matt noticed some bruising in his thighs, he finally saw a doctor. The doctor knew it wasn't good. They ran tests.
Matt had stage-four prostate cancer. And it had spread.
Marty Miller, Matt's brother, said that the family is not entirely certain of Matt's original prognosis because Matt always sugar-coated things and didn't want people to worry. One day, Marty, Matt's power-of-attorney, asked doctors at the University of Kansas Medical Center permission to view Matt's original scans. Marty sat aghast. It was unbelievable everywhere the cancer had spread.
"I attribute Matt to making it this long to his toughness," Marty said.
Matt spent Christmas 2020 in KU Med and didn't want to do it again. But he admitted himself on December 22, 2021. On Christmas Eve morning, doctors for the first time said, "We can no longer help you with treatments." The focus now, they said, should be on comfort. They told Matt he had two to four weeks to live. Matt told people it would be four to six weeks. He spent Christmas with his three daughters — Mia 17, Maggie 16, and Dani 6 — and spent the next few days getting everything in place.
The "core four," as they're called — childhood friends Todd Renko, Greg Gurley, Matt Monroe and former K-State baseball teammate Chris Bouchard — visited almost daily. As news spread that time was drawing near, everyone from all parts of Matt's life, many from out of town, visited Matt in his hospital room.
Gallery: (1-10-2022) Matt Miller Through the Years
Matt and Kevin Lockett had known each other for nearly three decades. Since their graduation from K-State in the 1990s, the former quarterback and All-American wide receiver enjoyed dozens of phone calls and hundreds of texts. They just hadn't seen each other in person. Matt was on the K-State football coaching staff for 10 years, first as a student assistant (1996), then graduate assistant (1997-98), and as tight ends coach (1999-2005). Matt also served as head coach at Garden City Community College (2013-14).
Matt and Kevin were reunited on December 26. That's when Kevin visited Matt at KU Med.
Kevin approached Matt's hospital door. He rapped upon it lightly. He had no idea if Matt would be coherent. But he knew he wanted to see his old buddy. He gently knocked again. Then he slowly opened the door.
"Hey, you were knocking for a while," Matt said.
"Yeah," Kevin replied.
"You were knocking really light. I almost couldn't hear."
Kevin nodded.
"Get over here, man," Matt said. "I love you."
"Those were the first words Matt said to me face to face," Kevin recalled. "We embraced. I had prepared myself to walk in and for him not to be able to communicate or understand. It was ignorance on my part. I just didn't know. When I walked in, he looked like Matt, the 20-year-old quarterback who had just transferred from Texas A&M to K-State. He just had a little bruising on his body and was maybe 15 pounds lighter.
"Those first 45 seconds that I was in the room were pretty darned special."
Matt, who transferred from Texas A&M, was a two-sport athlete at K-State. Matt was the first K-State quarterback to win 10 games in a single season and was a finalist for the Davey O'Brien Award his senior season in 1995. Matt hit .318 and earned Second Team All-Big Eight honors for the baseball team in 1994.
Chris Bouchard was starting catcher at K-State. Matt was his backup. The two were roommates in 1995. Chris considered Matt to be his best friend.
"Some people called Matt 'Big Red,' because he always had a little bit of reddish-blonde hair, but Matt had multiple nicknames, and I didn't call him Big Red," Chris said. "He was always 'Matty,' 'Milty,' 'Miller,' 'Mill-Dogg,' or 'Bucky.' He always had nicknames for everyone else. Football was always Matt's priority. Matt didn't really care to catch, he just wanted to hit."
This past March, Matt, Chris and a couple of other friends played golf in Pittsburg, Kansas. Chris said that Matt tried to it the ball as far and as long as he could and was still fiercely competitive.
"Matt was probably one of the strongest and toughest individuals I've ever known," Chris said. "That was the hardest thing."
Friends decorated Matt's hospital room with posters of his family and his playing career. It felt like an 11th-floor loft apartment overlooking Kansas City. For about two weeks, it felt like home. Marty stayed in an adjoining suite. Friends rented a home for visitors to stay at if they were too far from home. Renko, Gurley and Monroe set up a gofundme account. Although friends accumulated enough money to cover Matt's hospital bills and arrangements, the "Matt Miller #6 Care & Legacy Fund" has been established on gofundme for folks to contribute for Matt's daughter's college education.
So far, donations have reached nearly $50,000.
"We want Matt's daughters to be able to go to school," Kevin said.
It truly was a wild two weeks. More and more people visited. Bill Snyder spent time with Matt. Former K-State baseball head coach Mike Clark visited several times. Childhood friends from San Diego, high school friends from Shawnee Mission, former Texas A&M teammates and former K-State teammates visited.
"It was great that I had the opportunity to reconnect with Matt," Kevin said. "It took me back 25 years where we were sitting on the couch playing NCAA College Football and just hanging out. That's what it felt like the moment I walked into the room and saw him. I showed up at the hospital and brought a sleeve of DVDs of every game of the 1995 season. We watched the KU game and the OU game, and he remembered every single detail. Those kinds of moments allowed me and many others who were in the room to experience Matt and our friendship in a way that was reminiscent of 20-plus years ago.
"On a personal level, what it did for me was cause me to really understand and realize how important it is to make sure that those people that you truly care about know without a doubt that you care about them while they're still here."
The lead doctor and two or three associates briefed Matt, Marty and family each morning at around 10 a.m. And every morning, doctors said, "Matt, there's nothing else we can do." Matt always offered two or three suggestions, more tests, anything. Finally, the lead doctor put the situation into football terms. "Matt, you're losing by 30 points and there's 1 minute left in the game…It's time to take a knee."
One day, Marty overheard Matt telling a doctor, "It's over."
"What do you want to do about it?" the doctor asked.
"I don't want my daughters to see me suffer," Matt replied, "and I don't want to go out in pain."
Marty paused at the memory of the discussion.
"Everything up until then was about setting goals," Marty said. "Matt said, 'I'm going to see homecoming with the girls,' and then it was, 'I just want to have time with the family, eat a steak dinner, and watch the K-State bowl game.' All of the sudden, it's Sunday, and his goal is to make it to Tuesday. The days narrowed down. He realized he was down to the very end.
"That was one of the hardest moments for me."
Doctors and family planned everything around the TaxAct Texas Bowl between K-State and LSU.
"Matt told me, 'I know I'm dying. I see my body. I hear what they're saying. But aren't you supposed to feel like you're dying? I just don't feel like I'm dying. You're supposed to feel like you're dying, right? That's the problem. I know what the doctors and scans said, but I don't feel like I'm dying,'" Marty said. "I didn't know what to say. That whole Sunday was gut-wrenching. That was his last great day. He was lucid through most of it even though he was in a great deal of pain. He had a ton of visitors Monday and that was the last free-for-all with ex-teammates and everyone in the room telling stories. It was the last big party."
Doctors and family finally had to allow Matt to get his rest. Matt wanted to make it to see the K-State bowl game on Tuesday. Only a few select few people remained in the room after Tuesday. And he still fought. The nurses said, "That is one tough man." Doctors were going to transition the treatment after the K-State game. Marty said that everyone believed that Matt would go quickly. Doctors gave him 12 hours.
This was on Tuesday. Matt fought until Saturday.
"He kept fighting until the very end," Marty said, "which was amazing."
Matt, 49, passed away shortly before midnight Saturday.
Slowly, family and close friends began trickling out of the hospital room. Marty and Mia said goodbye. Again. They had said goodbye several times before. So many tears. The hospital room transformed from a temporary home into a hospital room again. Once Matt's spirit left his body, Marty and Mia were ready to leave, too.
"We were ready to get out of that room," Marty said.
Now they plan Matt's celebration of life.
"When we talked with my family and my mom, in particular, we didn't know how much she could handle, and with COVID being so rampant right now, Matt wouldn't have wanted a memorial service," Marty said. "We'll just put things on hold and let people process in their own way, and then we'll get together in Manhattan or Kansas City this summer to celebrate Matt's life.
"Matt loved K-State and everything associated with K-State. His older daughter will be going there now. It's a great community of people, no doubt about it."
But there was only one Matt Miller.
And he won't be forgotten.
In the end, Matt Miller, one of the grittiest quarterbacks in Kansas State history, had one big weakness and one key strength: his toughness. A little more than 18 months ago, he'd begun experiencing pain in his body that he attributed to lingering football injuries. It could've been anything, he reasoned. He would tough it out. When Matt noticed some bruising in his thighs, he finally saw a doctor. The doctor knew it wasn't good. They ran tests.
Matt had stage-four prostate cancer. And it had spread.
Marty Miller, Matt's brother, said that the family is not entirely certain of Matt's original prognosis because Matt always sugar-coated things and didn't want people to worry. One day, Marty, Matt's power-of-attorney, asked doctors at the University of Kansas Medical Center permission to view Matt's original scans. Marty sat aghast. It was unbelievable everywhere the cancer had spread.
"I attribute Matt to making it this long to his toughness," Marty said.
Matt spent Christmas 2020 in KU Med and didn't want to do it again. But he admitted himself on December 22, 2021. On Christmas Eve morning, doctors for the first time said, "We can no longer help you with treatments." The focus now, they said, should be on comfort. They told Matt he had two to four weeks to live. Matt told people it would be four to six weeks. He spent Christmas with his three daughters — Mia 17, Maggie 16, and Dani 6 — and spent the next few days getting everything in place.
The "core four," as they're called — childhood friends Todd Renko, Greg Gurley, Matt Monroe and former K-State baseball teammate Chris Bouchard — visited almost daily. As news spread that time was drawing near, everyone from all parts of Matt's life, many from out of town, visited Matt in his hospital room.
Matt and Kevin Lockett had known each other for nearly three decades. Since their graduation from K-State in the 1990s, the former quarterback and All-American wide receiver enjoyed dozens of phone calls and hundreds of texts. They just hadn't seen each other in person. Matt was on the K-State football coaching staff for 10 years, first as a student assistant (1996), then graduate assistant (1997-98), and as tight ends coach (1999-2005). Matt also served as head coach at Garden City Community College (2013-14).
Matt and Kevin were reunited on December 26. That's when Kevin visited Matt at KU Med.
Kevin approached Matt's hospital door. He rapped upon it lightly. He had no idea if Matt would be coherent. But he knew he wanted to see his old buddy. He gently knocked again. Then he slowly opened the door.
"Hey, you were knocking for a while," Matt said.
"Yeah," Kevin replied.
"You were knocking really light. I almost couldn't hear."
Kevin nodded.
"Get over here, man," Matt said. "I love you."
"Those were the first words Matt said to me face to face," Kevin recalled. "We embraced. I had prepared myself to walk in and for him not to be able to communicate or understand. It was ignorance on my part. I just didn't know. When I walked in, he looked like Matt, the 20-year-old quarterback who had just transferred from Texas A&M to K-State. He just had a little bruising on his body and was maybe 15 pounds lighter.
"Those first 45 seconds that I was in the room were pretty darned special."
Matt, who transferred from Texas A&M, was a two-sport athlete at K-State. Matt was the first K-State quarterback to win 10 games in a single season and was a finalist for the Davey O'Brien Award his senior season in 1995. Matt hit .318 and earned Second Team All-Big Eight honors for the baseball team in 1994.
Chris Bouchard was starting catcher at K-State. Matt was his backup. The two were roommates in 1995. Chris considered Matt to be his best friend.
"Some people called Matt 'Big Red,' because he always had a little bit of reddish-blonde hair, but Matt had multiple nicknames, and I didn't call him Big Red," Chris said. "He was always 'Matty,' 'Milty,' 'Miller,' 'Mill-Dogg,' or 'Bucky.' He always had nicknames for everyone else. Football was always Matt's priority. Matt didn't really care to catch, he just wanted to hit."
This past March, Matt, Chris and a couple of other friends played golf in Pittsburg, Kansas. Chris said that Matt tried to it the ball as far and as long as he could and was still fiercely competitive.
"Matt was probably one of the strongest and toughest individuals I've ever known," Chris said. "That was the hardest thing."
Friends decorated Matt's hospital room with posters of his family and his playing career. It felt like an 11th-floor loft apartment overlooking Kansas City. For about two weeks, it felt like home. Marty stayed in an adjoining suite. Friends rented a home for visitors to stay at if they were too far from home. Renko, Gurley and Monroe set up a gofundme account. Although friends accumulated enough money to cover Matt's hospital bills and arrangements, the "Matt Miller #6 Care & Legacy Fund" has been established on gofundme for folks to contribute for Matt's daughter's college education.
So far, donations have reached nearly $50,000.
"We want Matt's daughters to be able to go to school," Kevin said.
It truly was a wild two weeks. More and more people visited. Bill Snyder spent time with Matt. Former K-State baseball head coach Mike Clark visited several times. Childhood friends from San Diego, high school friends from Shawnee Mission, former Texas A&M teammates and former K-State teammates visited.
"It was great that I had the opportunity to reconnect with Matt," Kevin said. "It took me back 25 years where we were sitting on the couch playing NCAA College Football and just hanging out. That's what it felt like the moment I walked into the room and saw him. I showed up at the hospital and brought a sleeve of DVDs of every game of the 1995 season. We watched the KU game and the OU game, and he remembered every single detail. Those kinds of moments allowed me and many others who were in the room to experience Matt and our friendship in a way that was reminiscent of 20-plus years ago.
"On a personal level, what it did for me was cause me to really understand and realize how important it is to make sure that those people that you truly care about know without a doubt that you care about them while they're still here."
The lead doctor and two or three associates briefed Matt, Marty and family each morning at around 10 a.m. And every morning, doctors said, "Matt, there's nothing else we can do." Matt always offered two or three suggestions, more tests, anything. Finally, the lead doctor put the situation into football terms. "Matt, you're losing by 30 points and there's 1 minute left in the game…It's time to take a knee."
One day, Marty overheard Matt telling a doctor, "It's over."
"What do you want to do about it?" the doctor asked.
"I don't want my daughters to see me suffer," Matt replied, "and I don't want to go out in pain."
Marty paused at the memory of the discussion.
"Everything up until then was about setting goals," Marty said. "Matt said, 'I'm going to see homecoming with the girls,' and then it was, 'I just want to have time with the family, eat a steak dinner, and watch the K-State bowl game.' All of the sudden, it's Sunday, and his goal is to make it to Tuesday. The days narrowed down. He realized he was down to the very end.
"That was one of the hardest moments for me."
Doctors and family planned everything around the TaxAct Texas Bowl between K-State and LSU.
"Matt told me, 'I know I'm dying. I see my body. I hear what they're saying. But aren't you supposed to feel like you're dying? I just don't feel like I'm dying. You're supposed to feel like you're dying, right? That's the problem. I know what the doctors and scans said, but I don't feel like I'm dying,'" Marty said. "I didn't know what to say. That whole Sunday was gut-wrenching. That was his last great day. He was lucid through most of it even though he was in a great deal of pain. He had a ton of visitors Monday and that was the last free-for-all with ex-teammates and everyone in the room telling stories. It was the last big party."
Doctors and family finally had to allow Matt to get his rest. Matt wanted to make it to see the K-State bowl game on Tuesday. Only a few select few people remained in the room after Tuesday. And he still fought. The nurses said, "That is one tough man." Doctors were going to transition the treatment after the K-State game. Marty said that everyone believed that Matt would go quickly. Doctors gave him 12 hours.
This was on Tuesday. Matt fought until Saturday.
"He kept fighting until the very end," Marty said, "which was amazing."
Matt, 49, passed away shortly before midnight Saturday.
Slowly, family and close friends began trickling out of the hospital room. Marty and Mia said goodbye. Again. They had said goodbye several times before. So many tears. The hospital room transformed from a temporary home into a hospital room again. Once Matt's spirit left his body, Marty and Mia were ready to leave, too.
"We were ready to get out of that room," Marty said.
Now they plan Matt's celebration of life.
"When we talked with my family and my mom, in particular, we didn't know how much she could handle, and with COVID being so rampant right now, Matt wouldn't have wanted a memorial service," Marty said. "We'll just put things on hold and let people process in their own way, and then we'll get together in Manhattan or Kansas City this summer to celebrate Matt's life.
"Matt loved K-State and everything associated with K-State. His older daughter will be going there now. It's a great community of people, no doubt about it."
But there was only one Matt Miller.
And he won't be forgotten.
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