White played for Tennessee from 1992-95. He was selected by the Philadelphia Eagles in the sixth round of the 1996 NFL draft (No. 194 overall).
White played defensive end for Tampa Bay from 1996-2001 and the New York Jets in 2002.
“We mourn the loss of VFL Steve White, who passed away at the age of 48,” the University of Tennessee announced Wednesday. “White played for the Vols from 1992-95 before embarking on a seven-year NFL career.”
White appeared in 94 games during his NFL career, recording 119 tackles, 14 tackles for a loss, 11.5 sacks, forced three fumbles and recovered two fumbles.
Below are photos of White through the years in the NFL.
A tribute to former Tampa Bay Buccaneers defensive end Steve White, who died Tuesday at the age of 48
It was opening night for “The Fellowship of the Ring.”
If you know my family at all, you know how big of a night that was.
I grew up hearing the epic tales of Middle Earth from the indelible J.R.R. Tolkien, stories that drove home the timeless truth that the most important things in life are often carried in the most unsuspecting of parcels.
It’s fitting then, that the one thing I still remember most from that night has nothing to do with the film I’ve seen eleventyone times since (extended versions only, nothing else counts).
My family took up an entire row at the AMC Regency 24 in Brandon that night: Parents, siblings, grandparents and all.
Well, all except for one seat.
As I glanced down at the end of the row, right next to where my grandfather was about to plop down in his usual denim overalls, was Tampa Bay Buccaneers defensive end Steve White.
(AP Photo/Mike Roemer)
See, it was 2001, and I was halfway through my sophomore year of high school. I had already started covering high school games for The Tampa Tribune, and was three years into my first football blog. A lifelong, die-hard Bucs fan with deep, Creamsicle roots, I knew exactly who occupied that seat next to my Pop.
White was at the tail end of his last of six seasons with the Bucs, but it was his most productive, as he finished the year with a career-high five sacks, despite not starting a single game. Our nerd night at the movies was just before White and the Bucs would win two of their last three games (including a 48-21 blowout win over the New Orleans Saints that next Sunday) on their way to making the playoffs, and the year before they would go on to win their first Lombardi Trophy.
While I tried to keep my cool sitting a few too-sticky steps away, Pop was none the wiser. He just stuck out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Jeff!”
“I’m Steve! Nice to meet you.”
“Oh, wow! My son’s name is Steve.”
I’m not sure what else was said, but Steve and Pop chatted for the rest of the time we sat in the theatre waiting for that first theatrical foray into Hobbiton and Rivendell and Gondor and Rohan and Mordor to begin (y’all know how early we arrive for those midnight releases).
I don’t know why that moment has always stuck with me ever since.
Maybe it’s as simple as recognizing the humanity in every person, from the SEC-turned-NFL pass rusher in his prime, to the retired Navy veteran who spent 30 years working the printing presses at the same newspaper that gave me my first bylines.
The Bucs family lost wide receiver Vincent Jackson last February, at just 38. Running back Lars Tate was 56 years old when he passed away earlier this month. Former linebacker Keith McCants was 53 when he died last September. Another running back, Reggie Cobb, passed in 2019 at the age of 50.
We even lost one of our own in the Bucs media ranks, when my dear friend Mark Cook died last August, also just 50.
So young, so many.
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Some years (and many more Peter Jackson adaptations) after that costume-heavy premiere night, Steve and I would cross paths again, this time as fellow football writers. We would talk about the Bucs, and he would lend his expertise when I reached out about EDGE prospects and pass-rushing technique. He was a fantastic writer with an unmistakable voice and style, who didn’t suffer the foolishness of trolls.
The last few times we spoke, it was about the more important things in life. I’m glad for that.
When I think of Steve, the first thing I’ll see won’t be him chasing down Brett Favre. It’ll be sitting next to Pop, who we lost in March of 2020, sharing a moment of human kindness, and kinship over a shared appreciation of a great story.
If we’ve learned anything over these last few years, I would hope it’s to be kind, to value our shared humanity, and to appreciate the little things.
