It was commonplace for Chicago Bears players in the 1980s and 1990s to have nicknames. There was Walter "Sweetness" Payton, William "The Fridge" Perry and Steve "Mongo" McMichael. Even head coach Mike Ditka was sometimes known as "The Doctor." Rivera was called "Chico" because he reminded defensive coordinator Buddy Ryan of actor Freddy Prince from his favorite television show, "Chico and The Man."

His teammates knew him as something much more than an actor's doppelganger, though.

Rivera was known for his toughness on a tenacious defense. He could play any of the three linebacker positions and often did so before becoming a permanent starter in 1988. He would do anything for his teammates with no desire for any special recognition.

And, of course, there was his intelligence.

"He was one of the smartest players I ever coached," said former Bears' linebackers coach Dave McGinnis.

Rivera has always been the same person, but his start towards earning that stellar league-wide reputation began more than three decades ago in Chicago. In many ways, the Riverboat of today was molded out of the player of seasons past.

Ryan was not one to mince words, so when the media asked him about his two new linebackers, he was blunt.

"Well, Will could be a superstar. Rivera is one of those kids who would make a great son-in-law, but he can't run."

If that bothered Rivera, he never showed it. In fact, it motivated him. Instead of getting angry, Rivera worked even harder.

"He obviously didn't start, but he became a very integral part of our special teams, and hey, that's great," Hampton said. "Not everybody can start. Not everybody can go to the Pro Bowl."

Rivera's mental and physical toughness did not stick out to Hampton, if only because many of his teammates possessed the same qualities.

But for those in Rivera's position group like Jim "Smails" Morrissey, he certainly fit the bill.

"He was definitely tough," Morrissey said. "He was always in the right place at the right time. We took pride in not having too many mistakes on the football field, [whether that was] mental mistakes or just getting beat physically. We were very competitive in that regard."

Morrissey likely wouldn't have been on the team had it not been for Rivera. Rivera was only in his second year when Morrissey was drafted, and both of them ended up on special teams. Morrissey was released before the season, but Rivera's feet got accidentally tangled up with another linebacker -- Brian Kabral -- on one of the kickoffs in the season opener.

Kabral blew out his knee and was done for the year, so the Bears brought Morrissey back the next day.

The two bonded quickly with Rivera at strongside linebacker and Morrissey playing on the weak side. They mostly were on special teams in the beginning of their careers, although Rivera did get some playing time during the Bears' Super Bowl run in 1985. They played together for eight seasons before Rivera retired in 1992.

Hampton was the ringleader of the group. He would often tell stories to large crowds at local bars; he called it "holding court." If there were 100 people at the bar, 90 of them would be crowded around Hampton. As a result, he earned the nickname, "The King," and since Rivera and Morrissey were always around him, those two were called his court jesters.

"We followed him around like a couple of puppies," Rivera said. "We just had a great time. It was a great relationship."

Rivera started playing more during his third season in 1986. He also got a new linebackers coach in McGinnis, who made his NFL coaching debut after spending 12 seasons in college.

And when McGinnis finally met Rivera, he noticed everything his teammates had already seen: an intelligent, obedient player with a strong work ethic.

There was also that toughness that was impossible to ignore.

"He was a very physical player," McGinnis said. "He was a relentless player. You couldn't fit into that Bears' locker room or that football team without being a tough, physical player. You can't fake physical toughness in the National Football League. You either are, or you aren't."

Rivera didn't become a consistent starter until later in his career, but he still became a valuable piece on defense, especially in practice. There weren't as many players on NFL rosters back then as there are today, so he often played on the scout team where he lined up against Payton and Jim "Punky QB" McMahon.

"He was giving it his best shot and working just as hard as anybody out there," Morrissey said. "He definitely stood out whenever it came time to talk football strategy."

Rivera was always accountable, always doing his job and always ready to jump in with the starting defense, both when players didn't want to practice or missed games due to injury.

"It was almost an easy segway to say, 'Hey, big deal. You don't want to play? I got guys that do,'" Hampton said.

That's what happened in 1986 when Singletary missed two games. And as crazy as it sounds, Singletary was afraid Rivera might take his job.

Singletary had pulled his hamstring earlier in the season, but Rivera didn't believe Singletary would miss any time. After all, Singletary took all the starting reps in practice with Rivera backing him up.

But then Ditka approached Rivera at his locker as he was getting ready for special teams.

"Hey kid, you're starting at Mike [linebacker]. Don't screw up."

Then Ditka walked away.

"I always looked to [Rivera] as well as Singletary," Morrissey said. "I looked for his leadership as well as [Singletary's]. Ron was always one of the guys that was high character."

Rivera led the team in tackles against the Detroit Lions and was nominated for the NFC Defensive Player of the Week. He even got a game ball from Ditka.

"[Rivera] says we were so good up front that nobody even blocked him," Hampton chuckled. "He just went out there and made the tackle."

Then the playful chirping came Singletary's way.

"Well, maybe it's not the linebacker, but the defensive line in front of him," Rivera remembers Steven McMichael saying.

"Yeah, maybe we'll make ole' Chico an All-Pro instead of Singletary this year," Hampton said.

The fact that Rivera was playing so well didn't help things, either. He made 22 tackles the next week, which earned him another nomination and game ball from Ditka.

Singletary was supposed to miss another two weeks, but he had seen enough. He was coming back the next week against the Rams.

That was fine with Rivera.

"He was kind of the glue, the fiber that keeps everything together," Hampton said. "He was just a damn good football player."

Rivera's teammates said he was never what they referred to as a "political guy." He was never a player who had an agenda or trying to make everything about him.

"The person that [he] is, he's been that person his whole life," McGinnis said. "He's going to be his own man, but he's a guy that would listen and learn."

McGinnis is sure that winning those awards for his character meant something to Rivera, but he was never a player who wanted individual accolades.

"He was always all about the team and that's why he was respected so much."

Hampton remembers Rivera as a man who would always go out of his way to help his teammates. The two were part of a group that helped Morrissey lay down sod at his new house during the season on their only day off of the week.

"That's just the guy he is," Hampton said.

Another story came around the time Hampton had retired in 1990. By his own admission, Hampton had become real "cantankerous" in his final season and even compared himself to John Wayne's character in the 1948 movie "Red River" He was all about "finishing the job" and would give everyone a hard time.

No one really wanted anything to do with Hampton, but it was known that he had taken up golf. He was always stealing Ditka's golf cart.

So, while Hampton spent most of the year in a bad mood, Rivera started raising money to give him a surprise retirement gift.

"He was like my plea agent," Hampton said. "He was the one that got everybody to pony up."

By the end, Rivera had raised enough to get Hampton a golf cart of his own. It was painted in the Bears' colors of orange and blue with his name, number and nickname on it. It even had a stereo and a built-in cooler.

The team waited until after practice for the final home game of his career to give it to him. Once practice was over, Ditka drove the cart out of a storage shed while Hampton's back was turned.

"'I don't know if we should give this to you,'" Rivera remembers McMichael saying to Hampton in jest. "'But Chico and the boys felt you deserved this, so this is for you."