Football was my love, my passion, my mistress in life. I played for a long time and collected some wonderful injuries along the way, I've torn both my patella tendons and every ligament in my knees except my ACL, I've picked up about 7-8 concussions, broken my knuckles, bruised my ribs, had high ankle sprains, been rendered temporarily paralyzed, dislocated and separated my shoulders but these were all things that I wore as badges of honor, I was a football player and these were the "spoils" of war.
In recent years while I wouldn't change anything that I have done in my life, I worry and I mean I worry a lot. I see former players taking their lives, not being able to walk, forgetting things and having horrible and violent thoughts. I don't really talk about it with Yaunna because she doesn't understand the fear that comes along with it, the fact that I had a CT scan a few years ago and all the doctor ask is "You've had a few concussions haven't you?" And my thought is "Holy shit, what does my brain look like?". Sometimes when I talk it turns into mindless auditory dribble for about 10 seconds because I can't seem to get the words out, my brain replaces letters in words at times, I don't always remember things the way I used to, my knees and shoulders always hurt and sometimes I just want to lay in the bed cause it feels better than having to get up and walk to face the world.
I'm passing a broken down car down to my son, it hurts when I think about the fact that he and I may never be able to run around a park together. He is the reason I second guess what I called fun only about 10 years ago, hindsight is truly 20/20 but would I give it all up for him knowing what I know now? It's not regret just a father wondering if he cheated his own son out of joy.
