One More Play

As I lay in bed, I recalled my earlier life, hitting home runs to win the game… about my girlfriend… about pitching a no-hitter… about my girlfriend… about riding around at midnight with some friends… that song on the radio is on again, King of Pain by the Police… about cheating on my girlfriend… about my father dying when I was 16… and about the time I got kicked out of the game for covering up home plate because I was mad at the umpire. As I lay in bed, I thought a lot about the good times and the bad times. As was trying to think about my future, I knew it was not going to be what I had planned, but a future that was handed to me by someone else. We are all accountable for our actions, and we must either suffer from the consequences of our actions, or rejoice from the decisions that we make. But sometimes we have to suffer or rejoice from consequences of someone else’s actions. I lay in bed and hear that song by Anne Murray called A Little Good News Today. I have the radio on 24 hours a day. At night time when I can’t sleep, I lie here listening to the radio, reminiscing about my life. Did I mention that I think about my girlfriend? Two weeks before I went off to college I went four-wheeling with some friends, and I tried to stand on top of the roll bar. We hit a bump or hole, and I went flying over the jeep and hit my left arm across the top of the windshield where I sustained a major gash. As I was cleaning my arm at home, my mother came in and helped. She told me, “If you don’t straighten up and stop doing some of the risky things you’re doing, I will be taking care of you the rest of your life, or you will be in a nursing home.” I replied, “Mom, you worry too much.” This was two weeks before my destiny, my baseball career, changed for the rest of my life due to someone else’s irresponsible action. After one week of college, I went home for the Labor Day weekend. I was in the neighborhood playing softball with friends and family. Andy got mad at me and tried to attack me by swinging his fist, trying to start a fight. He was 12 at the time, and I was 19. He didn’t have the strength that I had, being older and an athlete. He came rushing toward me, and I grabbed him. While he was stopped, I was telling him, “The only way you would be able to beat me up would be if I was in a wheelchair or lying in bed and can’t defend myself.” After looking back, this was the second sign that was given to me that I needed to stop taking life for granted. Remember, my mother said she would be taking care of me the rest of my life if I didn’t stop doing the things I was doing. Two days before my first college baseball game, I met a girl, and I was telling her that one day there would be too much pressure put on me, and something serious was going to happen to me. I was 16 when my father died and I became the man of the family. My older brother, Tim (we called him Bear) wasn’t mechanically inclined, and my younger brother was too young to do the labor that would be required to repair things. We were an average family. We were making it month by month financially. But when the roof leaked, and it did, I had to be the roofer. When the water pipes burst, and they did, I had to become the plumber. When the automobiles broke down, and they did, I had to become the mechanic. While still in high school, I had to keep my grades up, keep the house up and do other chores, and keep playing baseball. I had a lot of responsibilities. The new girl told me, “You will need to lean on other people for help.” My response was, “There are too many people depended on me.” I couldn’t let any of them down. I got to play one college game of baseball. I was the designated hitter. I had a pretty good game. I went one for two, scoring one run, one walk, one stolen base and one strikeout. I was on top of the world. Mother came to me wanting to take me home for the weekend and then bring me back to college on Sunday. I declined going home and again expressed how invincible I was. I told her that the way things are going now, nothing is going to stop me. This was like the remark about the Titanic. It was said that God himself couldn’t sink this ship. We know what happened, don’t we. God didn’t have to sink the ship; the iceberg did it for him. I rode back to the college with the rest of the team. Sunday, the final day of my college baseball career, I was playing football with other college students and friends. We were playing tackle, but we were not using pads or helmets. We had been playing for about two hours. I noticed one guy hit another person high in the neck and head area, and I yelled to him, “The way you’re playing, you’re going to break someone’s neck!” About five plays later, I told my team I was through playing. I told them I was hungry, my leg and toe were hurting, and I was going to get some things together for classes in the morning. My teammates said they needed someone to run the ball. So, I decided to come back for one more play. Just one more play. The football was handed off to me. I saw the hole open up, and I scored a touchdown, untouched. As I was turning around and laying the ball down, I saw from the corner of my eyes, something diving or coming toward me. The play was over I had already put the ball on the ground from scoring a touchdown, but for some reason this person kept playing. Then, I heard a pop. How hard a hit, I don’t remember, but I do remember hearing a pop. A loud pop. I remember going down. I heard someone yelling that he tackled me. I thought from the hit and the loud pop that my right clavicle, collarbone, was broken. I tried to get up, and nothing followed. I was only able to lift my head off the ground. I tried a second time, but still my head was the only thing moving, not my arms, not my legs. I couldn’t move or feel from my neck down. I knew then something was seriously wrong. I realized that I was paralyzed from a broken neck.