Erik Kramer, a former quarterback for the Detroit Lions, was once a replacement quarterback during the 1987 strike. He later returned to the NFL following a three-year stint in the CFL, serving as Rodney Peete’s backup and the apparent successor to Andre Ware.

But after inefficiency and injuries struck, Kramer was the one who guided the 1991 Lions to their final playoff triumph.

After four seasons in Detroit, including two NFC Central Division titles, Kramer signed with the Bears and later the Chargers.

After his playing career, Kramer struggled with depression and even made an attempt on his life in 2016. In his new book, “The Ultimate Comeback,” Kramer details how he has survived since trying to kill himself.

Here is an excerpt from that book, which is available in bookstores and online now:

I hadn’t set a date to kill myself. But after several intense weeks of planning, it struck me one Tuesday morning that the only task left was to pull the trigger.

I approached my imminent death like I would a football game: I meticulously studied an Internet “playbook” on suicide, plotted an effective strategy to execute it, and envisioned potential obstacles that might force me to call an audible. My process was emotionless, like a business transaction.

The eight goodbye letters I’d written were the exceptions. Even then, when I penned a few sentences from the heart, I felt compelled to follow with a but to justify my exit.

I wrote the letters alone one evening in the silence of my den, including one to my beloved younger son:

Dear Dillon,

I’m sorry for having to leave you. You’re the only reason I have been pushing on as long as I have.

My priority in life has always been to be a good father to you and Griffen. As I look back through the years, I put everything I had into it. But I also realize I was more flawed than I was probably ever aware.

I was born on November 6, 1964, and was an NFL quarterback for eleven years in the 1980s and ’90s, an implausible feat given my lackluster résumé: I was second string on my high school varsity teams.

No colleges recruited me. Nineteen quarterbacks were among the 335 picks in the 1987 NFL draft — I wasn’t one of them.

Yet, during the 1991 season, I helped lead the Detroit Lions to the league’s third-best record and the franchise’s first playoff win in thirty-four years.

We were one victory shy of Super Bowl XXVI. With the Chicago Bears in 1995, I set single-season passing records that still stand.

But behind the accomplishments and accolades, nobody knew the turmoil plaguing my brain.

Suicidal thoughts initially surfaced after I jumped to the Bears as a free agent in 1994. Though I bled silver and blue for four years in Detroit, the Lions didn’t re-sign me.

Meanwhile, Chicago pursued me like I was the next Joe Montana, offering a lucrative three-year deal. I took it but lost the starting job after four mediocre games and a separated shoulder. Depression, perceiving the crack in my spirit, slithered in and seized control.

I fought relentlessly to reclaim the starting role in 1995 and conquer depression for good. On the surface, it appeared that I’d succeeded.

I started every game that season and finished with the league’s fourth-highest quarterback rating behind Jim Harbaugh, Brett Favre, and Troy Aikman.

One night out on the town, a friend and I entered a Chicago restaurant and heard someone shout, “Hey, EK! Over here!” It was basketball legend Michael Jordan waving me to his table. I had every reason to believe that my darkest days were behind me.

When spring practice started in 1996, depression—which has its own set of rules—came back stronger than ever.

Looking back on myself as a kid, what stands out now, Dillon, is how much of a loner I was. And how uncomfortable I could be around peers and friends.

Eventually, I was able to find some acceptance by accomplishing something through sports. But I was never able to feel 100 percent comfortable in my own skin. And now it feels like those feelings have just intensified and have no way of ever going away.