The profound impact of Dee Riley
Dee Riley passed away over the weekend. The wife of former Husker coach Mike Riley was 70.
On Sunday, sportswriter and author Kerry Eggers tweeted the news I’ve long dreaded to hear:
Dee Riley, the wife of former Husker coach Mike Riley, passed away. She was 70.
We learned on April 16, 2022, that Dee was battling “a mental health condition,” as Mike told his USFL team at the time. Mike said that Dee would be around, because she needed to be around to be with him specifically. He mentioned that she might meet a player, and then need to meet that same player again the next time she sees them.
We later found out that the condition was more specifically Alzheimer’s, a cruel disease that affects far too many. By spring of 2023, Kate — Mike and Dee’s daughter — shared just how difficult the last few years had been for the family.
“I mourned the loss of who I knew to be my mom,” Kate told columnist John Canzano. “I mourned the loss of the relationship. She’s still around physically. There are a lot of glimpses. You appreciate those moments.”
Mike said it was “hard and sad” to watch his wife slip away. The moments where she was her old self had become few and far between.
Dee, an Alabama native, and Mike met through a friend at the University of Alabama. As Mike tells the story — which I heard a couple of times while covering the coach at Nebraska — the two drifted apart after college. Mike moved to California for a graduate assistant role but he thought about her from time-to-time.
On May 22, he remembered it was her birthday. He decided to give her a call.
Dee answered. Mike wished her a happy day.
“Thank you,” she replied, “but my birthday is May 2.”
Whoops.
I asked Dee about it once after hearing the story from Mike. She just laughed.1
I first met Dee on April 16, 2016. I had been in a severe car accident a month and a half prior, and it was my first day back at work. It just happened to be a Saturday spring practice for Nebraska football.
After shaking Mike’s hand — I had thanked him for the kind message he and former athletic director Shawn Eichorst had sent me post-accident — he turned to Dee.
“You should talk with her about her accident,” Mike said. “It’s incredible that she is here.”
For the next 45 minutes, Dee and I stood shoulder-to-shoulder on the sideline of Memorial Stadium. She listened intently as I shared the story of what happened. She reminded me over and over how God clearly had big plans for those of us in the car, since we were here today to tell the story. She then told me stories about her favorite shoes, playing tennis — she and Mike played tennis almost daily — and the silly nicknames she called her husband.
When practice ended, Mike thanked me for keeping Dee company. As the two started to walk off, she turned toward me once more.
“Erin, right? I just want you to know that you have made a profound impression on me,” Dee said. “I can never remember names but I will never forget yours. I look forward to seeing you again.”
That moment kicked off two years of sideline chats and hugs from Dee. We often exchanged information on things to see and do during those chats, highlighting favorite restaurants and stores we’d visited. I recommended the Omaha zoo once when family was visiting, while she gave me a full itinerary of places to see in Oregon when Nebraska ventured west to face the Ducks.
She also had a clever sense of humor. I remember complimenting her once on a puffy black coat she was wearing. She winked at me.
“It’s my favorite Nike coat,” she said with a laugh because Nebraska is an Adidas school. “But don’t tell anyone. I just had the ‘N’ stitched over the logo so I wouldn’t get in trouble. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
When Riley was fired from Nebraska in late November 2017, he held a press conference — something I’m still amazed by today.2 I tweeted about this moment at the time, because I was in disbelief by how incredibly gracious both Mike and Dee were that day. Not many people could have handled that situation the way that they did.
Dee stood toward the back, as she had at many press conferences during Mike’s tenure at Nebraska. As Mike finished at the podium, he shook hands and thanked those in the room one-by-one. When he got to me, he stopped just a moment longer.
“Dee is in the back,” he said. “She’ll want to say goodbye before you go.”
I followed his words and found Dee, who was waiting with a big hug. As she let go, she looked me right in the eye.
“You are special and strong,” she said. “Don’t forget that.”
A couple of months ago I went to text my friend Derek. I accidentally typed D-E-E instead, and Dee Riley’s name popped up in my phone. I hadn’t exchanged messages with her in some time, but seeing her name made me smile.
When I learned on Sunday that Dee had passed, I reflected on those years I spent around her and Mike at Nebraska. I thought about that moment in Memorial Stadium when we first met. She had told me I’d made a profound impression on her, but the truth is that Dee was the one who had made a profound impression on me.
Coaching is a tough business. We all know this. It’s based on results, and those results determine longevity with any organization. It can be a cruel business, because liking someone doesn’t guarantee success.
But Mike and Dee Riley were foundational in how I grew to understand and approach this job. People, after all, have always been at the heart of what I do. If it weren’t for the people, there wouldn’t be much of a point to all of this.
Mike agreed. He told me one time — and I’m paraphrasing from memory — that he wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for the people. That includes his family, of course, who he leans heavily on before making any big decisions.
When the College Football Playoff committee came calling this spring, for example, Riley had to talk with his family first before any decision was made. Taking the job would mean flying to and from Corvallis, Oregon, to Dallas, Texas, for two days every week starting midway through the football season. Mike wanted to be sure that was OK with Dee receiving full-time care.
When the decision was made and the answer was yes, the CFP released a statement.
"We are pleased to have Mike join the committee," Bill Hancock, executive director of the CFP, said. "He has significant experience as a player and coach, and he loves college football. He will bring a unique perspective to the committee.
“Plus, he is a delightful human being."
Yes, Mike Riley is a delightful human being. So was Dee. They really made a great team.
I’ll be thinking about the Rileys, who are now navigating a world without the wife, mother and grandmother that meant so much to them. I’ll also be thinking about Dee, who I’m fortunate to have had the opportunity to know.
There’s never a good way to end something like this, so I’ll leave you with the words I wrote six and a half years ago:
“It may not have worked out for Mike Riley as Nebraska's coach, but I am thankful for the opportunity to have covered his tenure at Nebraska. Both he and Dee have made me a better person by simply knowing them, and I will always be grateful to them for that.”
Mike and Dee were married for 43 years. Forgotten birthday aside, it’s clear the two were very much meant for one another.
If you’re curious how Mike talks about Nebraska, even to this day, here’s a snippet from a story written by Eggers last fall when asked about his time in Lincoln:
“I feel to this day I was a good fit there. With time, we felt confident in what we were doing and where we were headed. I can look back on my time there with a lot of fond memories, and I reaped the benefits of that association.”
Thanks for writing this Erin. We usually don't get the stories about the nice people.
Wonderful story!