Through ALS, Brian Burhenn keeps showing up at Purdue games for son George

Brian Burhenn calls for his wife. He needs help.

“Jenny,” he says.

Nothing to be alarmed about. She’s used to this. Brian just needs his airway cleared. He’s too weak to do it himself.

Jenny pushes on Brian’s stomach.

“You have to push hard,” she says. She’s done this a lot.

After several robust thrusts, Jenny inserts a mini-vacuum into Brian’s mouth to extract phlegm and saliva.

“I’m sorry about this,” says Brian, as Jenny wipes his nose. “It happens every once in a while.”

ALS sucks.

Brian Burhenn is a 6-foot-5 mountain of a man who tore through life helping others—disadvantaged children, youth football players, family, neighbors …

Now, Brian needs help. He’s in his fifth year battling ALS, which has robbed his ability to move–at all.

Brian Burhenn’s personality is still the biggest in the room. He loves to tell stories, which often can be long and rambling. Jenny has heard them all. She smiles.

But most of all during a visit with Brian, he wants to know all about YOU.

And, being a proud dad, Brian also likes to brag about his youngest son: George. Or, Georgie, as Brian often calls him. Who can blame Brian? George Burhenn is a glistening 6-5 athlete, a long-legged pass-catcher who has been touched by the football gods. Could he be one of the Big Ten’s best tight ends in 2026?

“I think so,” said Brian. That’s not just dad talk.

This is a story about a father’s love for his son. And it’s a story about a son’s love for his father.

“My dad will FaceTime me every day,” says George. “He’ll just call me out of the blue with a random question.”

Sounds like Brian.

Brian’s eyes get wide when he talks about Georgie and his older brother, Max, an equally fine athlete who played at the University of Findlay in Ohio.

“My boys got their athletic ability from their mom,” says Brian. “We’re divorced but still get along well.”

Hang around Brian Burhenn long enough, and you find out everyone gets along with him. It’s impossible not to be sucked into his orbit of positivity.

“He doesn’t really ever show me a bad mood when he’s talking about (ALS) stuff,” says George.

Brian Burhenn has always been like this. Positive. Upbeat. Gregarious. ALS may have seized his muscles, but it hasn’t stolen his spirit. And it won’t.

“When I first got diagnosed, I honestly thought that was it,” said Brian. “I thought maybe I had a year left. At first, all I wanted was to see George run out of the tunnel at Purdue. Then it became, ‘I want to see him score a touchdown.’ And he did that as a freshman against Indiana.

“Now, the next thing is, I want to see George get drafted.”

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DAY BY DAY

Walk up a metal ramp and into Brian Burhenn’s house. There, you’ll be greeted by Roscoe, an 11-year old Great Pyrnees/boxer mix who looks and moves like he’s 22. Oscar stares and softly growls at visitors. He wants a Milk-Bone.

“You be good, Roscoe,” says Brian.

“I’ll go get a treat,” says Jenny.

Wearing an Indianapolis 500 T-shirt and shorts, Brian Burhenn sits in an electric wheelchair perched in the front room of his house on State Road 234 in McCordsville, Ind. His size 16 black slip-on sneakers extend beyond the foot rests. And his lifeless hands, the same big hands that used to carry an axe and tote a hose as an Indianapolis fireman, rest on a wood board that sits in his lap.

ALS has trapped Brian Burhenn in his 61-year old body.

“I am on the S – – – train to Sucksville,” he says, a quote Brian heard Michael J. Fox say as he deals with Parkinson’s disease.

He has a big, deep voice that fills the room. All the better for the stories he loves to tell. (Remember?) And, he’s got a million of them. Pull up a seat.

But he needs to take frequent puffs from a straw-like mouthpiece connected to a non-invasive portable ventilator to help him breathe. His diaphragm is too weak.

“I didn’t want to get a trach,” he says. “They tried to talk me into one. Even said it would extend my life.”

Brian already has beaten the odds battling an ALS diagnosis he received in 2022. There’s a lot of fight in him. Anyone who knows him isn’t surprised. Brian is still doing a Platelet Rich Plasma treatment where his bone marrow is extracted, spun down into stem cells and platelets and injected into his spine.

He won’t stop the battle.

On his left wrist, Brian wears a bright red plastic wristband. One side reads “Big Brian.” The other: “ALS SUCKS.”

“George wears one, but his is black,” says Brian. “The coaching staff doesn’t want any red in the football building.”

Understood.

Make no mistake about it: There are tough days. There are long days. Routine helps. And it starts early each day.

“I usually start about 45 minutes to an hour before our help arrives,” says Jenny. “We do range-of-motion exercises first. People come each morning to move Brian from the bed into a shower chair because he’s such a big guy. After that, we get him cleaned up, shaved and ready for the day.”

Brian retorts: “It takes a lot to make me look this good.”

Brian and Jenny also lean into faith.

“We pray every morning,” she says.

The couple recites a prayer that was passed on from one of Brian’s college roommate’s mothers. It’s called “Heavenly Father” and starts thusly: “I call on You right now in a special way. It is through Your power that (name) was created. Every breath he/she takes, every morning he/she wakes and every moment of every hour, (name) lives under Your power.”

“She’s a very devout Catholic and gave us this prayer focused on healing,” says Jenny. “That hope—believing something can still work out—is what keeps us going.”

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SOMETHING ISN’T RIGHT

It all started back in 2019.

Brian Burhenn was having trouble with his left foot. Seemed harmless. He was getting older. Things happen. Then, he began having issues with a shoulder.

“I had problems picking up my fire equipment,” he says.

This is a man who played competitive rugby at an elite level and bench-pressed 225 pounds 33 times.

A procession of doctor appointments ensued, including trips to an ALS clinic and the Mayo Clinic until the grim diagnosis in 2022: ALS.

“They originally thought it was CIDP—chronic inflammatory demyelinating polyneuropathy,” says Brian. “They treated me for that for about nine months.”

Says George: “I didn’t even know what to think at the time because I didn’t really know what it was or anything like that. But after going to Google and looking it up, it was pretty devastating.”

A robust man of 250-plus pounds withered to under 200 at one point. Brian checks in at about 220 these days, fed through an intravenous tube in his abdomen. He’s able to eat “normal” food, which makes trips to Purdue and McAlister’s Deli in West Lafayette with Jenny and George special. Brian likes the grilled cheese.

“I like to give Georgie his space,” says Brian. “But it is nice to visit him.”

It’s something that keeps him going.

“I think he’s the best dad anybody could have,” says George. “He’s good mix of hard on you for the stuff he needs to be. But he tries to not count on me about sports too much. I think that helped me playing sports.”

George Burhenn has had his own trials, time and again having his Purdue career paused by injury. He’s played in just 19 of a possible 33 career games–just eight the last two seasons. But Burhenn’s raw ability and talent is apparent. As he enters his fourth season, hopes are high for No. 81, arguably the most talented player on the Purdue roster.

“I feel great,” says George. “This is kind of what I said last year, but it’s the best I’ve felt in a long time, which is good. I’m really excited.”

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EVERYONE KNOWS BRIAN

There’s a knock on Brian Burhenn’s door.

“Come in.”

It’s 2026 Indiana Mr. Basketball Luke Ertel, whose father Mike arrived earlier to visit. Luke has some T-shirts for Brian.

Luke is headed to West Lafayette soon to begin his basketball career, a freshly minted state champion for nearby Mount Vernon High. In March, Luke stopped by Brian’s house on the way to the biggest game of his career—just to check in for 30 minutes and catch up. Luke then said “good-bye” and led Mount Vernon past Crown Point for the 4A title, scoring 26 points with 10 rebounds and six assists.

“He’s a special young man from a good family,” says Brian.

The ties between the Ertels and Burhenns run deep. Get this: Luke Ertel was Mount Vernon’s QB as a true freshman when George Burhenn was a senior. Luke eventually gave up football after an ankle injury as a sophomore. Smart move.

“He was kind of a grown man when I showed up,” says Luke. “Compared to me as a freshman, he was big, tall, fast–he had everything. In practice, you could tell.”

George Burhenn became a hot commodity in the Class of 2023, a star hurdler who was courted by many to catch passes: Iowa, Michigan State, Virginia Tech, Vandersbilt, Duke, Iowa State, Louisville. Burhenn committed to Purdue and Jeff Brohm—but then it happened: The Louisville job opened. Would Brohm return to his alma mater?

“Jeff Brohm was here visiting at that table with some assistants,” says Brian. “We fed them pizza from Kinsey’s, asked if he was gonna still be the coach at Purdue. He was.”

The next day, news broke: Brohm was headed to U of L.

“I texted Jeff right away the next day,” says Brian. “I asked him: ‘Was it the pizza?’ “

Brian Burhenn loves to tell that story.

BATMAN, ANDY GRIFFITH AND MEATBALLS

One of the first things you notice while walking through the Brian Burhenn house: the photos. They cover almost every inch wall space. Many are family pics, and some are of celebrities—with autographs.

“Here is one Bill Murray signed,” said Brian. He loves Bill Murray.

“Meatballs” is his favorite movie, which tells you what you need to know about Brian. And Batman is his No. 1 superhero. No other cape crusaders are even close.

“Michael Keaton was the best one,” he said.

And Brian has a favorite TV show, too.

“I gotta tell you, I learned a lot about being a dad from watching “The Andy Griffith Show,” says Brian. “I just love the messages you get from it.”

The wholesome show dishes timeless tomes that Brian still clings to. And there is this, too: Andy, Barney, Aunt Bee and Opie help get Brian through days—which can be long at times.

His sons help him, too.

“I know every dad thinks their kids are great, but based on what coaches and people around the program say, if George stays healthy, there’s a real chance for him to have a big season,” says Brian.

Brian will be there, making the 90-minute trek like he has so many times the last three years. You can find him tailgating in a lot adjacent to the Kozuch Football Complex.

“It’s awesome,” says George, who stops by the festivities. “They have my dad watch from the press box.”

“They take good care of me,” says Brian.

As Brian Burhenn has done–and continues to do so–for so many over the years.