Pat Tillman

Pat Tillman, unlikely football hero and unlikelier warrior, went to Afghanistan and got accidentally wasted by the men in his own Ranger platoon. It happens. Among the many shadows Jon Krakauer illuminates in his compelling and dispiriting book, "Where Men Win Glory," is the commonness of fratricide in high-tech warfare. Thus the military's bleak poetry of misadventure: FUBAR, SNAFU, Charlie-Fox. But the story here isn't Tillman's unexceptional death, or exceptional life for that matter, but what Krakauer sees as a political crime committed by the Bush administration's propaganda machine as it tried to make Tillman a martyr in the global war on terror.

Clayton Sellers'voice echoes off the sheer rock walls that rise from his vantage point along the Colorado River in Black Canyon, just downstream from the base of Hoover Dam. "[The dam] was started in 1931 and completed in 1935, about two years ahead of schedule and under budget," he says as he maneuvers a pontoon raft across the water. Sellers' passengers, mostly tourists staying in nearby Las Vegas, are awed by that fact, and even more so by the massive engineering marvel standing before them.

I have never quite gotten the Pat Tillman story out of my system. Only now am I understanding why. It has been six years and two days since he died, his head blown off amid a pile of rocks on the side of a hill in Afghanistan, murdered by guys on his own team, other U.S. soldiers. After lying about it, the military eventually called it friendly fire and treated it as a mistake. Horrible, yes, they said. But a mistake. I have never quite gotten the Pat Tillman story out of my system.

"The Tillman Story" is a story that won't go away, won't leave you alone, won't let you feel at ease. Intensely dramatic, filled with elevated heroism, crass self-interest and blatant stupidity, it's a paradigmatic narrative of our tendentious, turbulent times. It's also a mark of how remarkable the tale of Pat Tillman is that no amount of retellings of its sequence of events — how an NFL star turned Army Ranger turned Afghan war casualty turned unwilling and untrue national symbol — can wear out the story's power or dilute its essential mystery.

It was an inspiring story of selfless heroism: A stubbornly patriotic football player walked away from fame and a multimillion-dollar contract when he joined the Army immediately after Sept. 11, 2001. It was also a story whose tragic ending brought a nation to tears and inflamed wartime passions: Spc. Pat Tillman had charged up a hill in Afghanistan under "devastating enemy fire," according to his Silver Star citation, and was killed defending his fellow Rangers. The problem with the story was that much of it just wasn't true.

It is a day of barbecues and water-skiing, a day when our Fourth of July independence is medium rare and glassy smooth. That's why Pat Tillman went to Afghanistan. His life was nicely marinated and mostly free of ripples. His freedom was a given, his future and that of his family unthreatened -- until two planes flew into the World Trade Center and another into the Pentagon. The rest of us gasped and fretted. Tillman acted. The story is not new. Nor is it any less amazing.

He plays angry, and with good reason. He is angry. Still. Even after three years. Pat Tillman, Arizona State's mercurial, irreverent, volatile, long-haired outside linebacker, had a phenomenal prep football career at San Jose's Leland High. On defense, he had 110 tackles his senior season. On offense, he accounted for 31 touchdowns, 14 rushing and 12 passing, two on kickoff returns, two on punt returns and one on an interception return.

Former Arizona Cardinals safety Pat Tillman was posthumously awarded the Silver Star for leading his Army Rangers unit to the rescue of comrades caught in an ambush. Tillman was shot and killed in Afghanistan while fighting "without regard for his personal safety," the Army said Friday in announcing the award. The Silver Star, awarded for gallantry on the battlefield, is one of the most distinguished military honors. On Thursday the Army promoted Tillman from specialist to corporal.

"The Tillman Story" is a story that won't go away, won't leave you alone, won't let you feel at ease. Intensely dramatic, filled with elevated heroism, crass self-interest and blatant stupidity, it's a paradigmatic narrative of our tendentious, turbulent times. It's also a mark of how remarkable the tale of Pat Tillman is that no amount of retellings of its sequence of events — how an NFL star turned Army Ranger turned Afghan war casualty turned unwilling and untrue national symbol — can wear out the story's power or dilute its essential mystery.

Lost: Dog tags. Name: Pat Tillman. If anyone knows of the whereabouts of two dog tags that once adorned the neck of a former NFL star who was killed while fighting for his country in Afghanistan, please come forward. His former team, the Arizona Cardinals, play Sunday in the Super Bowl His former Cardinals roommate, Zack Walz, is desperate to wear them again. Walz was given the tags by Tillman as a gift shortly before his death.

It was an inspiring story of selfless heroism: A stubbornly patriotic football player walked away from fame and a multimillion-dollar contract when he joined the Army immediately after Sept. 11, 2001. It was also a story whose tragic ending brought a nation to tears and inflamed wartime passions: Spc. Pat Tillman had charged up a hill in Afghanistan under "devastating enemy fire," according to his Silver Star citation, and was killed defending his fellow Rangers. The problem with the story was that much of it just wasn't true.

Army Gen. Stanley A. McChrystal was forced to retire because of remarks he made to a Rolling Stone reporter. Having read the article that led to his departure, I feel strangely validated. "The Runaway General" described by journalist Michael Hastings is exactly the arrogant individual I believed him to be. McChrystal was in charge of Joint Special Operations Command in 2004, when my son, Pat, was killed in Afghanistan. But I didn't become aware of him until March 2007. That's when someone anonymously sent an Associated Press reporter a copy of a high-priority correspondence.

It's just a coincidence that Amir Bar-Lev, whose Afghanistan documentary "The Tillman Story" plays the Los Angeles Film Festival Saturday and Sunday, once lived in the New York apartment of Sebastian Junger, the co-director of the Afghanistan documentary "Restrepo," which opens in Los Angeles on Friday. But one can't help feeling that there was a little bit of cinematic karma at work in the fact that, as a struggling filmmaker, Bar-Lev happened to move into the 350-square-foot studio previously occupied by Junger.

I have never quite gotten the Pat Tillman story out of my system. Only now am I understanding why. It has been six years and two days since he died, his head blown off amid a pile of rocks on the side of a hill in Afghanistan, murdered by guys on his own team, other U.S. soldiers. After lying about it, the military eventually called it friendly fire and treated it as a mistake. Horrible, yes, they said. But a mistake. I have never quite gotten the Pat Tillman story out of my system.

Fiction weeks on list 1. The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown (Doubleday: $25.99) Harvard professor Robert Langdon uses his symbology skills to find a missing Freemason in Washington, D.C. 5 2. The Help by Kathryn Stockett (Putnam: $24.95) The lives of a maid, a cook and a college graduate become intertwined while changing a Mississippi town. 20 3. Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby (Riverhead: $25.95) A woman acquaints herself with the songwriter whose album caused the breakup of her recent relationship.

Rankings are based on a Times poll of Southland bookstores. -- Fiction weeks on list 1. The Lost Symbol by Dan Brown (Doubleday: $25.99) Harvard 4 professor Robert Langdon uses his symbology skills to find a missing Freemason in Washington, D.C. 2. The Help by Kathryn Stockett (Putnam: $24.95) The lives 19 of a maid, a cook and a college graduate become intertwined while changing a Mississippi town. 3. Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby (Riverhead: $25.95) A woman 1 acquaints herself with the songwriter whose album caused the breakup of her relationship.

"Tillman Is Sent to Middle East" [March 15] should be mandatory reading for every American citizen. Pat Tillman is the antitheses of every pampered, overpaid, whining, spoiled professional athlete who complains about anything. Pat Tillman is the antithesis of Toni Smith, who chooses to hold in contempt American values and the American flag. We all too frequently hear sports announcers using the adjective "courageous" as they describe a player's action, and we realize it is nothing more than a sensationalistic misnomer.

Many have said that the death of Pat Tillman put a large helping of reality on everyone's plate, reminding us, at the same time, of the unreality, the frivolity of organized sport. Let us note, however, that frivolity is the point of sport. Sport serves as an entertainment and a distraction from the reality of everyday life. Those who are slapped hardest in the face by Tillman's death are those who lose themselves in sport's inanities and confuse its issues with those of any real importance.

Pat Tillman, unlikely football hero and unlikelier warrior, went to Afghanistan and got accidentally wasted by the men in his own Ranger platoon. It happens. Among the many shadows Jon Krakauer illuminates in his compelling and dispiriting book, "Where Men Win Glory," is the commonness of fratricide in high-tech warfare. Thus the military's bleak poetry of misadventure: FUBAR, SNAFU, Charlie-Fox. But the story here isn't Tillman's unexceptional death, or exceptional life for that matter, but what Krakauer sees as a political crime committed by the Bush administration's propaganda machine as it tried to make Tillman a martyr in the global war on terror.