Indianapolis running back Addai's bond with paralyzed friend runs deep

MIAMI -- LaJuan Moore was smiling Wednesday, and it wasn't just because he was going to the Super Bowl.

"He's always like this," his mother said. "Been that way since he was a little baby."

The smile wasn't what Colts running back Joseph Addai noticed when the two first met in the ninth grade at their Houston high school.

It was the sight of Moore with his hand out.

"He said we met because I borrowed 50 cents from him and never paid him back," Moore said, laughing at the recollection. "I admit I borrowed the 50 cents, but I did pay him back."

Indianapolis Colts running back Joseph Addai stretched out his jersey as he got dressed for a media event at the team's hotel Wednesday. (MICHAEL CONROY ~ Associated Press)

Out of that, a friendship was born.

In a way, it was just natural. Both were football players, one on defense and the other on offense at Sharpstown High.

Addai was the quarterback, and Moore was the safety stopper. They were inseparable on the field and off.

Both thought they were destined to play in college, maybe even the NFL. Life was good, and the future looked even better.

Then everything changed in a split second on a Thursday night in October.

Moore's mother, Charlotte Beverly, was in the stands cheering as her son made tackle after tackle. The people next to her said it seemed like No. 11 was everywhere.

Late in the game, Moore hit a tight end coming across the middle for another tackle. Beverly turned to the other fans and said, "My baby was on that tackle, too."

The moment she turned back, she knew something was wrong. Moore was on the ground, legs bent. He wasn't getting up.

The paramedics were called and Beverly went with her son to the hospital. On the way, Moore assured her that he was going to be OK, that he had just gotten a stinger.

That night he was lying in his darkened room, hooked up to machines, watching the local news flickering on television. That's how he got word he was paralyzed below the waist.

"Nobody had told me," Moore said, "but I had kind of figured."

Moore had 10 hours of surgery the next day to fuse his broken vertebrae. Kids from his school lined up in the hallway to see him, his mother said, as if they were waiting to see a movie.

Addai was there every day. At night, he would put two chairs together so he could sleep and still be near his friend.

"He would kiss him, tell him, 'I love you. boy,'" Beverly said. "I had never seen boys that close."

Moore's football dream was over. He wouldn't walk again, much less play again.

Beverly was warned by counselors that her son would be angry, that his friends would stop coming by.

Not a chance.

When Addai went off to LSU, the first thing he asked for was a handicapped-accessible dorm room so Moore could come and visit.

When Addai was back home, he would give Moore's mother a break and bathe, shave and dress his friend.

Mostly, they would just hang together, the way they always did.

"We talk every day," Addai said. "And it's more than just everyday conversation. We talk about life."

Life has been good to Addai. He was a first-round pick of the Indianapolis Colts, had a good rookie season, and scored the winning touchdown that put the Colts into the Super Bowl.

On Tuesday, he sat in the stands at Dolphin Stadium and showed a reflective side that few newly wealthy 23-year-olds are able to do.

"Having someone like that as your best friend really makes you keep humble," Addai said. "He just really motivates me, just being around."

Addai has brought Moore to two games this season, and on Friday he'll board an airplane for the Super Bowl. Joining him will be another friend, Mark Boone, the tight end Moore tackled when he was hurt.

The trip is a chance to escape, at least temporarily, the dilapidated house with a leaky roof he shares with his mother in Houston. She rented the place because it was cheap, and because it had wheelchair ramps into both the house and the garage. But it's in a flood zone, and last summer Moore sat on his bed and watched as the waters rose around him.

Things aren't easy for Beverly, who quit her job to be with her son. They live on Social Security disability and $500 a month she gets for being his caretaker.

A trust fund set up in the wake of the injury has run out. Some bills are paid on time, some are not.

Addai is picking up the tab for the Super Bowl trip, and he pays for other things, too. But the family values his friendship more than the money he offers.

"We're barely making it," Beverly said. "I penny pinch here and there to keep the bills paid. Periodically, people send money and I pay other bills."

Moore tried to go to college, but he and his mother were quickly worn down by the daily chore of getting him ready and transporting him. He talks about going back to school, though, and dreams of someday having a career in football as either a coach or an agent.

"It's not hard at all. Some people they don't even get a chance like I have," Moore said. "I still have my family and friends behind me. I don't see any reason to be down."

Addai can only marvel at the spirit his best friend shows.

"If he's down, you can't tell. He doesn't show it and he's always smiling," Addai said. "He's shown me one thing for sure: You can't get mad at life."