Friday October 3
COACH HOPE HAD WARNED us that Lakeview would be ready for us. We hadn’t believed him. They’d lost to Eastside, and we had owned Eastside last week. By the end of the first half, I had done some firsts this year: I had thrown my first interception; I had fumbled; and I’d been sacked four times, one of which put me out of the game. The fumble had occurred when two Lakeview linebackers had run past Bert, who wasn’t sure which one to block, and they had both hit me a fraction of a second apart. I’d been facing the other way and hadn’t seen them. I swear my helmet touched my butt as they tried to snap me in half.
Bert was a blubbering idiot when he saw me writhing in pain. He ignored the ball lying on the ground, so one of the Lakeview linemen picked it up and jogged in for the only score at that point. Moose had to keep Coach Hope from killing him, once he heard Bert’s excuse for not blocking. I liked coach’s suggestion of just picking one if he wasn’t sure.
As I was lying on the ground, trying to figure out if I was seriously hurt or not, the training staff from both benches came swarming out. I guess the play looked as bad as it felt. I was a little upset when they told me not to move, and brought an ambulance onto the field. Six of them rolled me onto a backboard and then taped my head in place. The crowd was dead silent as they loaded me into the ambulance and took me to the hospital.
They did a quick ultrasound on my back and then x-rays. I was telling them that I was fine when suddenly back spasms about made me pass out. They were so painful that I then got scared that something was wrong.
Our training staff had my medical records with them, which helped them avoid giving me the muscle relaxants that made me chatty. Personally, I think they gave me a horse tranquilizer. I was out before my parents could even check on me.
Saturday October 4
I WOKE UP AT FIVE IN the morning and felt great. The night nurse came in when I pushed the buzzer.
“How’s our star patient doing?” she asked.
“Like I’m about to wet the bed. Is it okay if I take care of that?”
She walked me to the bathroom and kept an eye on me. She said the doctor would be in at six to check on me. All indications were that nothing serious was wrong. It just looked like I’d been in a car accident. The only saving grace was my overall physical conditioning.
“Did we win?” I asked.
“You missed a heck of a game. My boy plays for Lakeview and we beat you last night. That Herndon kid came in and had a heck of a game for you guys. At first, your team fell apart after you were taken off the field. We scored twice more in the second quarter to go up 21–0.
“When Lincoln came out after halftime they were a different team. They fought back in the fourth quarter. If it hadn’t been for a missed extra point and field goal, in less than three minutes at the end of the game, we would’ve lost. The final score was 28–27. Your guys took it a little hard. I was almost cheering for them by the end. They showed a lot of class, and we were lucky to win.”
I felt bad for the guys. But nobody said we were going to win them all.
AT SIX O’CLOCK THE doctor came and checked me out. Everything indicated that I had blunt force trauma and had strained my back when I had been almost bent in two the wrong way. Not really, but that’s what it felt like. I wasn’t allowed to throw or run for a few days. He told me to take my muscle relaxants and pain pills, and to take it easy. I was on board with all of that. I was going to live, and they were letting me check out.
I was surprised when Mom, Dad and Teddy Wesleyan showed up at seven. I had thought Teddy had left last night for Lexington. Mom and Dad took all my equipment. The hospital was going to cut everything off until I told them that if they did, I was getting up and walking out. We compromised on replaceable items like strings to lace up the shoulder pads and the straps.
Mom and Dad were going to say no to my trip to Kentucky until I told them how much it cost. The flight plus the charity event was not going to be cheap. Plus, I managed not to flinch when Mom hugged me. Dad was watching me closely, though. I felt like I’d been hit with a baseball bat, twice. My nurse suggested that when I got to Lexington I should get a therapeutic massage. I had to agree that sounded good, in theory. Greg had taught me how to do one, and they were not always gentle.
By eight-thirty, we were at the airport, and I was boarded on Teddy’s plane. I had some good meds that allowed me to take a nap during the flight.
TEDDY DROPPED ME OFF at the Nutter Center where I met John Phillips. John was one of the main reasons I was here this weekend; I wanted to catch up with my friend. He took me into the locker room to change. He gave me some of his Kentucky gear to wear since we were about the same size. He took one look at my back and made a face.
“I thought your momma taught you not to play in traffic.”
“I wish I’d taken her advice. I plan to kick my fullback’s butt when I get home. He watched as two of them ran around him and tried to kill me,” I told him.
“Let me guess, he didn’t even warn you.”
“Nope. One moment I’m looking for a receiver since my primary was covered, and the next moment I’m lying on the field, trying to decide how bad it was. I was scared at first that it was really bad. I’ve been hit a lot, but that one stung.”
“Have you tried throwing?” John asked.
“NO! I’d be crying after the first throw. Is it really okay for your trainer to work on me?” I asked.
“I talked to him and he said to send you over. Let’s go meet him and get you fixed up.”
He introduced me to Stan. John had to get ready for the game, so he left me.
“We’re going to check you out completely. I called your trainers when John said you were coming in and had them send me your charts. Luckily, your parents signed a release at the beginning of the year so they could distribute them to us. It looks like you just need time to heal. If it’s okay with you, I want some of my student trainers to check you out also, so they can learn. Backs are delicate, and I want them to feel and see what I’ve been describing.”
“As long as they don’t try to kill me, I’ll be okay with it,” I told Stan.
He brought in six student trainers. Stan had one of the students write up my chart of injuries. He noted some past bruises, and then he got to my back. Stan read them the chart the trainers had sent over and explained to them what it meant. He also told them what meds I was on and what they did for me.
“You can see two separate impact points due to the discoloration, and it’s darker at the points where David was hit. These contusions seem to be slightly staggered. By the shape of the bruising, it’s obvious that it was done by shoulder pads,” Stan explained to his charges.
“How can you tell if it was pads or a helmet?” one of them asked him.
He went and got shoulder pads and a helmet.
“As you can see, the outline matches better with the shape of the pads. That’s actually good because if a helmet had done this, the damage would have been much worse. Of course, you can never be a hundred percent sure, because blood will go where it will while causing the bruising.”
Then there was a lot of poking and prodding as the students practiced on me. Then the students had to leave to go to Commonwealth Stadium to start taping the team for the game. A therapeutic massage sounded good, but as I predicted, the reality was quite different. My back tried to spasm again, but Stan knew what he was doing and worked it out. By the time he was done my tears had dried, and I could tell he’d helped me quite a bit.
Stan had me lie on my side, slightly bend my bottom leg, and bend my top leg to the point my foot could hook behind my knee.
“I noticed your back spasm when I was massaging you. If I hadn’t been here that could have been quite painful,” Stan said.