When Kids Become Men

To bring you up to speed, I'll need to refer to an earlier post regarding the basketball game I missed as a result of my injury earlier that day.  UCLA vs UW, second row behind the visitors bench, Senior Night.  I entrusted the tickets to my nephew (and team manager assistant, who got me the tix in the first place) in hope that they would find a good home.

Feb 22, 2010:  "As a side note, I told Matt he could give my tickets to Quincy Pondexter, the sole Husky senior that was playing his last home game before entering the NBA draft (expected to be a first round pick).  On my way home, I was listening to his post game interview, and the radio announcer asked Quincy what was the most memorable part of his final home game experience.  Without hesitation he replied, "Not only did my mom and dad get to see me in my final game, it turned out my brother and sister got to come too."  Since those were my tickets, I had to smile to myself knowing that in the greater scope of things, I may have missed out on the largest margin of victory any Husky team has ever hung on UCLA (97-68), but for the Pondexter family, the memories of Quincy's final game will last a lifetime."

So there you go.  I miss the game, but this kid's siblings get to watch their brother say goodbye to Husky Nation.  As silver linings go, that's a good one.

So you can imagine my surprise when my nephew sent me a text message four weeks later.  "Yer not goin 2 beliv wht I hve", he wrote. "What?", I replied.  He wrote back, "Yul hv to c it 2 beliv it."

A week later my sister dropped off a package on her way to Ashland.  I opened it up and just as Matt said, I cdnt beliv it.  A framed 8 X 10 photo of the young Pondexter, flying towards the rim, ready to send the ball packing.  Inscribed with a gold Sharpie, read the following:

"To John,  Thanks a lot for the tickets.  It really meant a ton.  (signed) QP #20,  Go Dawgs"

Say what you want about these kids -- that is one decent young man.  Thanks Q!  You too, Matt ;-)

 My man, Quincy.  He's a good one.


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Coulda Been A Heckuva Lot Worse

The good news:  No surgery!

The bad news:  Partial tear confirmed, 3-6 weeks in a cast, out at least four months.

Hey, it's not a rupture

I met with the Orthopedist this morning and got the word; surgery not required but get ready for a long Spring.  Could of been worse.  The final diagnosis is that I have a partial tear in my left achilles tendon, but there's enough still attached to expect a reasonable chance of a near-full recovery.  "90% use" anyway.  I'll take it.

 My man, Ivan, keeping it light (watch the toes, dude!)

This injury didn't come as a complete surprise.  Last year I had to turn back at the top of Palmer Snowfield on Hood due to intense pain in my leg (Jess went on to summit solo.  Humpf.  Stinkin' kid).  Later in the year I spent two self imposed weeks on the shelf when I overworked my achilles while training for the Portland Marathon.  Naturally, I didn't consider these episodes injuries.  I merely chalked it up to the price I had to pay in order to reach my specific goals.  It comes with the territory.  However, soreness is one thing, while a tear is definitely another.  I knew as soon as it happened that this was the latter.

 Purple, naturally.  Now if I could just find a gold sock....

On the positive side, my entire body probably needs a break anyway.  I fell like the staff at Kaiser Permanente knows what they're doing, so my outlook is good.  I work with a young lady that is making some major changes in her life, and it's inspiring.  Her mantra - it's not what happens to you that matters, it's how you handle it - seems apropos in my case as well.  Right now I'm just trying to handle the thought of crutches for the next six weeks.

Ivan The (not so) Horrible

Finally, since we're on the subject of cliches and famous sayings, how about this one from the Chinese philosopher Lao-tzu: "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step."

Hmm.  As soon as I'm cleared to take a single step, my journey to recovery will begin.

 Was there ever any doubt?

 

Great Start, Bad Middle, Outcome TBD

What started out as a promising long weekend in Seattle, ultimately turned into an unexpected not-so-promising setback.

First I have to thank my nephew, Matt, (UW basketball manager) for an awesome trip to U-Dub last Saturday.  I love the Huskies!  Meeting all the basketball players, hanging out in the players' lounge, walking out the tunnel leading to the football stadium, checking out the National Championship Football Trophy -- all very cool experiences.  I was in "Husky Heaven", and had no idea of the events forthcoming.

 












National Championship Trophy




It all started during the pre-game shoot-around Saturday afternoon.  While Matt was off doing his managerial duties, I grabbed a seat down near the floor of Hec Ed Pavilion and watched head coach Lorenzo Romar and his assistants put the players through the paces.  It brought back great memories of my days as a college basketball player (albeit on a much smaller scale).  I was getting pumped.  In only a few hours, I'd be watching the guys from the second row, right behind the visitors' bench, as they put their lessons to the test against UCLA in a nationally televised game on ESPN.

After most of the players left the floor, I asked Matt if we could take a few shots.  After all, Justin Holiday (starting Husky forward and brother of Jrue Holiday, NBA rookie) was still shooting around at one end, and the other end was free.  Plus, this is Hec Ed!

 Feelin' the flow in Hec Edmundson Pavilion

  
At this point, I'm liking my chances






"As long as we're not here all afternoon I guess it's ok," he replied.  Good man.  "I only need a quick second to drain a 'tre' (a shot from beyond the three point arch) and we're outa here".  Little did I know there would be nothing quick about it.  First shot, "Clang!"  Second shot, "Clang!"  Did I mention I was a three point specialist in college?  The excuses were already starting.  "Dang, Matt, I guess I need to warm up," I whispered. After shooting a free throw I grabbed the ball and shot from the wing.  Again, "Clang!"  Ugh!   

Curiously, there was a university administrator sitting on the visitors bench watching me with a big smile on her face.  She was obviously enjoying my pitiful display.  I walked over to her and gave her a big confident grin (just like I used to do when I could actually play this game) and picked up the loose ball.

"Ok," I told her, "This is it.  Hero or zero.  One more shot to live the dream.  One more or that's it." "Do it!" she said with a laugh.  I took the ball to the deep corner of the baseline, squared up, and let fly the most perfect 25 ft jumper of my career.  Suddenly, "Snap!"  "Aaarrrrgh!" I shouted.  It felt like that lady hit me on the back of my leg with a leather strap.  "Hey, lady!", I squawked.  I turned around and realized she was several feet away from me, and by the look on her face that things weren't good.  I tried to take a step and realized that the "Snap" I heard was my achilles tendon going for a ride.

Really?  I'm going to injure myself on this floor?  Right here?  Right now?  Shooting baskets?  Are you kidding me?  Sigh.


Four hours later, the ER doc finally checks me out.  The initial diagnosis is a partial tear, to what extent she didn't know.  Maybe surgery.  Definitely rehab.  She applied a 3/4 leg splint, threw a pair of crutches at me, some Vicodin, and I was on my way.  By on my way, I mean the five hour drive back to Salem.  No game.  No dinner.  No ESPN.  Just me and my aching leg.

 

 Me and my leg

Thanks, Sis, Christopher, and Dad for hanging out at the Steven's Hospital ER.  Thank you, my dear wife, for taking care of me all day Sunday.  You made a big difference the past two days.

 Sitting pretty?  Not.

I see the orthopedist tomorrow morning (Tuesday).  Here's hoping I won't be on the shelf for the next twelve months.

As a side note, I told Matt he could give my tickets to Quincy Pondexter, the sole Husky senior that was playing his last home game before entering the NBA draft (expected to be a first round pick).  On my way home, I was listening to his post game interview, and the radio announcer asked Quincy what was the most memorable part of his final home game experience.  Without hesitation he replied, "Not only did my mom and dad get to see me in my final game, it turned out my brother and sister got to come too."  Since those were my tickets, I had to smile to myself knowing that in the greater scope of things, I may have missed out on the largest margin of victory any Husky team has ever hung on UCLA (97-68), but for the Pondexter family, the memories of Quincy's final game will last a lifetime.

That, and I made my free throw.  Which is nice.

And Then It Was Gone

As we go through life, events occur that define our place in the world.  Sometimes these events are small, seemingly insignificant and hardly noticed.  Yet other times, reality hits us square in the chin.  This was one of those times.

"Men of a Certain Age" enjoy a summit w/ the girls

I am 47 years old.  Ok, so my 48th birthday is coming up Jan 3.  Whatever.  Aside from the occasional Terminator Stout, I take pretty good care of my body.  Climbing mountains, running marathons.... the "ususal" stuff middle aged men do while trying to cling to their fleeting youth.  Fortunately for me, it seems to work most of the time.

A weak moment at the local watering hole

Consequently, the LAST thing I suspected when I walked into the small, Kingston, WA convenience store was the ego-busting missle launched from the 30-something checker.  Oh, it started out innocently enough.  I had found a whole box of "Rhino Bars", a rare commodity that I like to give to my clients when they visit the office (if you don't know about my penchant for rhinos by now, I don't know what to tell ya).  I excitedly approached the checkout line and made my purchase.  A slight smile from the checker, a nod from me, and nothing more.  I was off to Mom's for Thanksgiving dinner.  Pretty routine stuff.

Sure, until the day I pulled the receipt out of my wallet and gave it to Glo for month-end filing.  I looked down at the piece of paper and there, there on the receipt, in the middle of the receipt, away from everything else on the receipt, in parenthesis, capital letters, quotated, read the following words:

"Kid, have you looked in the mirror lately?"

What?  I rubbed my eyes and read the receipt again.

Bzzzt.  "Sir, missle impact confirmed.  A direct hit!"

Balance Due:  $38.87

5% Senior Discount
$38.87 @ 5.000%:  -$1.94

BALANCE DUE:  $36.93

And in one, brief millisecond, the final chapter of my youth was closed.