First of Many

The only memory I have of the whole event was looking up and seeing my mom, my completely un-athletic mom, running as fast as she could toward me. Then it was all black from there. The next time I woke up, I was in the hospital totally confused and desperately wanting some Advil. As I laid in the emergency room I began to piece together all the events that led up to my terrible headache.

The Hornets was the first soccer team I ever played on. I started at the age of seven and I was still playing for them when my first real injury occurred. I said my “first” injury because it was far from the last. My beloved soccer coach of many years would later say “you spent your entire career throwing yourself in front of a bus” and that was no understatement. I had a way of always ending up on the wrong side of the battle. As a result, unfortunately I would get used to lying in a hospital bed, confused, and wanting some Advil. So to get back to where it all began, my “first” was when I played for the Hornets. I was ten years old and just finished playing in a routine soccer game. Who knows what the score was, or who we played, all I know is after the game my team was responsible for cleaning up the field. That usually involves picking up cones, gathering the soccer balls, and loading up the back of my coaches’ car. On this particular day however, we had one more task from the City of Bellevue. The parks department decided they wanted us to flip the goals after the game so that they were lying face down and could not be used. Now remember, this was a team of 10 year old girls selected to this task. It was a great idea from the start.

Once all the gear was gathered my coach rounded us all together and we headed for a goal. He explained we were to grab the bottom crossbar that was resting on the ground, lift it up, and then push the goal onto its face. Simple task, no excitement, and the day would soon be over. However, I decided I would use the opportunity to my advantage and do what I have always done best: completely terrify my mother. So I did what everyone else did, but instead of letting go and pushing, I decided to hang on. In my mind I thought I would simply get a free ride to the top, hang from what would soon be the top crossbar, then jump down with no problems. Unfortunately the plan did not go as I imagined and like I said, the only memory I have is of my mother sprinting toward me. From what I would learn later, the impact of the goal hitting the ground created such a force that my grip was loosened and I was thrown backwards. But I wasn’t just thrown down; I was tossed 20 feet in the air, did one and a half back flips, and landed directly onto the back of my head. I was lying there, unconscious until I woke up and saw my mom running. I remember smiling at the image but that was all because I would go back into my coma. Now it all begins to make sense of why I was in the desperate need of some Advil. And like I mentioned before, it would only be the “first” out of the countless unfortunate events that were to come.