Slinging bullets, p.2
Slinging Bullets, page 2
I was just turning to head toward our sideline when I glimpsed the maize and blue jersey still on the field next to me. The player that I had just tackled was lying motionless. I honestly couldn’t tell if he was breathing, the number nine on his chest showing no movement. He was so very still. I frantically waved to our sideline to get the medical staff out here. They were closest and raced over followed shortly by the Northwestern trainers and docs.
All I could do was watch helplessly as staff from both teams worked together to assess and treat the player. He wasn’t breathing and his skin was turning a bluish color. They began to resuscitate as carefully as possible, not knowing what injuries he had incurred.
Ryan Field’s 35,000 spectators were silent. Anguished players from both teams gathered off to the side on their knees, many in prayer. This is the part of football that every player and every parent fears most. We expect injuries. It is a risk that we have all accepted for the love of the game, but this is a different kind of gut-wrenching. Damar Hamlin of the Bills going down comes to mind. The medical staff had to restore his heartbeat on the field. It stops being a game and becomes something much bigger.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour but was only minutes, breathing was restored. The ambulance drove onto the field. Doctors worked to brace the player for transfer. It was an urgent situation calling for patience at the same time. They lifted the backboard onto the gurney and rolled Jace Williams toward the ambulance.
This is when the fans want to cheer for the injured player. They want to show support and know that everything will be okay. We have all seen the dramatic thumbs-up from players in this situation bringing even louder cheers from fans of both teams. The fans at Ryan Field that day did not know how to act. There was no thumbs-up. There was still no movement at all.
Tears fell from my eyes. Many other players and fans had them too. There is no shame in a display of emotion and compassion but I was different from every other person in the stadium that day. I was the person responsible; I had made that tackle.
Chapter 3
Luke
I shift my focus back to the meeting. The players are getting restless. The practice field awaits us so we were eager to finish the meeting and get out of this room. Assistant Coach Freeman continues to point out the new staff. We have a receivers coach who was previously in Dallas, a new guy in charge of equipment, a different nutritionist and a few other various support staff. But the one that made my head pop up and stare is the new lead trainer. He is staring right back at me. As the coach goes on to describe some of the trainer’s background information my mind drifts elsewhere. I already knew the first part of the story because I had lived it. The new trainer was Jace Williams, previously #9 of the Wolverines.
I had certainly followed the story of Jace Williams to a point. I knew that he had a major spinal injury and multiple surgeries. What was at first full paralysis thankfully turned into some signs of motion as the swelling slowly went down. I was in touch with Jace’s parents shortly after the injury. Although his mother said they understood it was an accident, I got the sense that they were not at all interested in talking to me further. The emotions were too new and the grief too much. Jace’s sister, Aaliyah, took over and sent me texts every day or so for the first few weeks. Once those fizzled I was left with doing occasional Google searches for local news stories.
It was a long road for Jace but he fought hard. The situation was very bleak for the first week but then he slowly started recovering. He was hospitalized for almost five months and went through painful physical therapy but miraculously relearned how to walk.
I never visited Jace in the hospital, a fact that I regret. I did write a letter to Jace apologizing for the injury and wishing him well. I don’t know how many drafts I went through but it is incredibly difficult to put into words how sorry you are for turning such a promising life into a near death situation. I had the perspective to understand what a potential NFL career meant to him, yet his career was so much more promising than mine; his talent was far superior. I sent the letter two weeks after the game. I did not get a reply, not that I felt deserving of one.
Chapter 4
Jace
I meet the eyes of Luke Bradford as soon as I am introduced as the new trainer. His face expresses a mix of emotions. I had been watching him off and on since entering the room but his attention was focused where it should be, on the people speaking up front.
Of course I knew Luke was the backup QB on the team when I applied for the job. It wasn’t a factor for or against my decision. I worked hard to become an NFL worthy trainer and this was the team in the city where I wanted to work. My family lives just about one mile from the stadium although my apartment is farther away in Livonia. My parents were not so pleased to have “that guy” and I working for the Wheels together, but the fact that I got the job and was close to home made them excited for me.
As the room clears, Luke and I maintain eye contact. He tentatively walks over to me and extends his hand. “Jace, I am so happy to see you and want to welcome you to the Wheels. I am not really sure what the right thing to say is. I know this isn’t the way you wanted to join this team, or any team, but I am glad you are here.”
“Thanks, Luke. I knew this reunion of ours would be awkward but don’t sweat it. I don’t blame you for what happened. My coaches told me it was a clean play. You made a proper tackle and bad things happened. That is football. It took me about two years but eventually I watched the video myself, repeatedly. There was nothing wrong with what either of us did. I am a little mad that you hit me before I reached the goal line though. Wouldn’t it have been a better story if I had scored the touchdown while getting injured?”
Luke appears surprised by my comments. “Wow, I am a little shocked. I was expecting something different when I saw you. I appreciate your attitude. I will never fully forgive myself. I know it was a clean hit but I can’t wipe away the guilt. I think I wrote that letter a hundred times before I sent it and even then didn’t think it conveyed my feelings well. I am deeply sorry.”
“Hold on. What letter?”
“I sent a letter to the hospital probably a few weeks after the game. It was just before Christmas,” Luke explains. “Aaliyah had been texting me daily about your condition but that cut off right around that time too.”
It doesn’t take long for me to assume what happened. “Well, I am guessing that my parents saw the letter and didn’t give it to me. They probably put an end to Aaliyah’s communications too. I can honestly say that I forgive you, Luke. My parents, particularly Dad, do not share that feeling. I wish they did. I have tried to convince them over and over that it was nobody’s fault except perhaps my own for choosing a sport that involves bodies crashing together.
“I have given Dad’s anger plenty of thought and I understand part of the reason why he is not letting go of it. Pops was a Marine who fully intended to move up the ranks and make a life-long career in the armed services. He attended school with the help of the military, pulling himself out of a very poor upbringing. I loved my grandparents but they never saved more than one paycheck in the bank. They did just enough to get by until poor health took them both from us. Dad vowed to my mom that things would be different. He achieved a rank of Master Sergeant but fully planned to work his way up more steps into higher command positions. During the Gulf War, a missile hit the Marine base where he was stationed. Dad and several others were severely injured. The result was a medical discharge and the end of Dad’s career plans.
“The road to recovery was long but eventually Dad started his own carpentry business. Grandpa had shared those skills somewhere along the line. So, you can see some parallels in my story and his. We both had career dreams but injuries got in the way. I can forgive you but, for Dad, this is churning up a lot of feelings that extend beyond my experiences. Adding in the normal anguish of seeing your kid hurt so badly makes him really struggle with this situation.”
Luke says, “I really appreciate knowing that. I am not a parent yet but I have heard that watching your kids get hurt is harder than being hurt. I am not sure that is completely true. My broken arm in the fourth grade made me think the world was ending. Still, I know I have put my parents through incredible stress and Mom prays hard before and after every game. Fortunately for her, my current status gets me through games without even needing to take a shower. I am reasonably safe holding a clipboard and listening to the coaches on my headset.
I chuckle a bit at that and then Luke continues, “You know, if you hadn't intercepted my perfectly thrown bomb I wouldn’t have had to tackle you. Mario was so ready to haul that in for a TD.”
I have to laugh again, “I am sorry I ruined your plans. It was a decent pass.”
“So, Jace, I still have a few minutes before I have to get out on the field. The coaches are spending some ‘quality time’ bonding with the rookies. They will probably be puking soon enough. Tell me more about your recovery and what brought you to this job?”
I sigh, “It was tough. I will save the details for another day. Suffice it to say, there was a lot of hospital time and my physical therapist was not high on my list of likeable people for a while. I understand what she was doing and respect her for it now but at the time I had a hard time holding in words that were not exactly honoring her. A few slipped out from time to time but she pretended not to hear them.
“In one way, things worked out. My college plan had always been to major in sports medicine. The injury sidelined that of course but U of M really cooperated with me to finish my degree. I spent a lot of time frustrated in a hospital bed so finding time to study was easy. The dean set me up with time extensions to complete the classes I was already taking when I got hurt. Fortunately, we were just around final exams anyway. Then I did the next semester using video and all of the other online stuff. I had a friend in the program who came to the hospital fairly often to help me.
“Eventually I passed my classes to earn my degree but was a little behind on the practical sort of things. The following fall I was reasonably mobile although I will never walk perfectly. The university gave me an internship working with various sports teams. I stayed away from football at first. It hurt too much to be around that, especially watching my teammates playing without me. Eventually I got past that and they hired me full time as a trainer for the football team. I guess all of my experience with being injured and in doing physical therapy proved that I had unique qualifications. I quickly became their head trainer which I loved, but when I heard about the opening in Detroit I had to apply. The team doctors at U of M gave me very strong letters of recommendation. So, here I am.”
Luke nods and says, “I am glad that Michigan came through for you so well. Their medical team is top-notch so I trust you to help me with all of my aches and pains, when I do get to play of course. Well, I had better get moving. I definitely owe you a beer and dinner sometime.”
I shake Luke’s hand again and head to my office. I am so glad that we finally connected. I suppose closure is the word for what we both needed. I go next door to the supply room to check on our stock of materials. We will soon be taping a lot of ankles and doing other preventative measures to keep everyone healthy when contact practice starts up.
Maddy, one of my assistants, sticks her head in the doorway. “Hey Jace, someone who is older but otherwise looks exactly like you is looking around the training room.”
I chuckle, “That will be my dad. I knew he couldn’t stay away long but coming on my first day? Really? He is both proud and overprotective. Could you tell him I will be out in just a minute?”
“Sure thing.”
One minute turns into seven or eight as I really want to finish up my inventory notes. Dad is probably happy to snoop around anyway. When I enter the training room he is apparently lecturing Maddy about how to use some equipment more effectively. I hurry over to save her.
“Pops, it is nice to see you but I am pretty sure Maddy can do that without your advice.”
Dad looks a bit offended at first but then quickly smiles and gives me a hug. “I was mostly just telling Maddy how lucky she is to have you head up the training staff.”
I pull Dad aside as Maddy wisely makes her escape. “I know that you are excited about my new job but did you really have to come in on the first day? Did you bring a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off and a note for my teacher too?”
“Well, your mother did actually want to pack a lunch for you. I am not sure about the PB and J part. I convinced her that it would be more professional for me to take you out for lunch instead. Besides that, I have been craving Buddy’s Pizza and your mom won’t let me eat it because of the cholesterol. We don’t have to reveal our lunch location to her though.”
Buddy’s does sound tempting. “Okay, Dad. Let’s go. Lunch is on me.”
As we make our way to the restaurant, Dad shares his thoughts. “I am proud of what you have become but being at the Wheels’ facility just makes me upset about what you never had the chance to be. It should be you out on the field winning games and making millions. I can’t believe that Bradford guy is on the team and you aren’t. Why would they want him? He should have been kicked off the team at Northwestern and never been allowed to play again.”
Here we go again. I respond in frustration, “We have been over this a hundred times. It was a clean tackle. It was not his fault. Of course I wish we could reverse time and avoid that collision but don’t blame him. Speaking of that, why did I not see the letter he sent to the hospital? I would have really liked to know what he said. He spent all these years thinking I was too mad to reply.”
Dad looks away before responding, “I didn’t think Bradford was worthy of asking for your forgiveness. I still don’t. Your mom thought I should give the letter to you but there was no way that was happening. I also told Aaliyah to stop communicating with that boy. You were suffering so he could suffer a bit too.”
I let the topic end there. There is no point in rehashing the same conversation. This is supposed to be a happy day. We arrive at Buddy’s as I say, “Let go enjoy that pizza. It is my favorite too.”
Chapter 5
Luke
The team finishes our workouts for the day. A group of us decide to reward ourselves with a beer at our favorite bar, Harry’s. We don’t invite the rookies. The old guys need some time to ourselves. We order a few sets of wings, fries and two plates of hillbilly nachos to share. Richie chooses a Detroit Greek salad without dressing. Of course he does.
Nate Donovan wanders in as well. We all glance around the table and give the same “I didn’t invite him” look. He stops at the bar for a beer and then heads our way. He sits down in the one remaining empty chair. So, I guess we have extra company.
I offer the first greeting, “Hi, Nate. We are glad you can join us. How was your summer?” He hadn’t attended the BBQ yesterday.
“It was nice getting a break from all of you assholes,” he mumbles.
Hmm. Cheery much?
He continues, “Luke, are you sure you want to come back for another season? You were looking pretty slow last year. I heard they are searching for a quarterback coach at CMU. Maybe you should check into that.”
So, Nate’s attitude didn’t exactly become all rainbows and unicorns during the offseason. I choose to ignore him and bring my attention back to Richie and his version of lunch. “Although that does look pretty good, for a salad, you could at least splurge with a little dressing. They make it here and it is delicious.”
Richie shakes his head as he responds, “This is why Detroit pays me the big money. I’ve got to keep this machine in perfect condition. Maybe if you ordered the salad too, your pasty, white dad-bod would start to show a little tone.”
A few french fries are launched at Richie as his forkful of greenery makes its way into his mouth. I don’t think Richie’s assessment of my physical status was on target but I let him have his chuckle at my expense. We all share lots of laughs for an hour as we each sip our single beer (we are in season after all) and munch on the apps. Nate downs four beers and pretty much keeps to himself. I am not sure why he joined us but I am okay with making an effort at team camaraderie. I do have to work very closely with the guy.
We keep happy hour light and are just about to leave when Skylar Grey and a few of her friends suddenly appear next to our table. Skylar is the epitome of a sports groupie. If you were on a professional team in Detroit, you knew who Skylar was. Players on the Tigers, Red Wings and Pistons all had experiences to share about her exploits. She was an equal opportunity sports groupie so the particular sport was not a concern. Veteran players knew enough to steer clear. Some of her “relationships” with players got kind of scary. She tends to find a player each year to set her hook into and then becomes laser focused on everything to do with him. She is drop dead gorgeous so the rookies usually fall all over themselves if they are approached. It starts out as a lot of fun. I have heard that sex with Skylar is spectacular and creative. Eventually her obsessive personality and limitless jealousy become too much to handle. She doesn’t let go easily. Sometimes the guys are happy when the end of the season arrives just so they have an excuse to get the hell away from Skylar.
“Hello everyone. Welcome back. I think this is going to be the year for the Wheels,” she says all bubbly and bright. I avoid eye contact but Skylar directs her next comment at me. How lucky. “Lucas, what did you do over the offseason? You look extra strong. Are your biceps bigger than last season?”
