Tough Guy

A few years back I played football for a small division 1 college in Utah. Ok, let's not pretend. It's been more than a few years....like 16 years. - Damn I'm getting old. Anyway. My freshmen year starts and I quickly realize that college football is on whole other level than High School. You know this going in, but you don't REALLY know it until you are there. Everyone is faster, everyone hits harder, and EVERYONE wants that starting position. There is an environment of toughness. We are in college – we are men now. Grrr!

I embrace this environment with enthusiasm. I play through the pain. I don’t take plays off. I’m tough……..so I think.

 

I get my first chance to show how tough I am in one of the pre-season practices. During one of the drills, my pinky gets caught in a facemask and is practically torn off. It is literally hanging by a flap of skin and a ligament. I shake it off. This turns out to be a bad idea since it sends blood flying everywhere and hurts like hell.

 

I am sent jogging into the medical facility (right next to the practice field) where the doc stitches me up. Now he does this before the local anesthetic even has a chance to kick in. But I’m tough, and I suck it up and sit there without flinching, hoping that nobody notices my turning a slight shade of green. After a few minutes and 20+ stitches, I’m back out there at practice with my pinky taped to the finger next to it. After no more than 10 minutes, I have ripped half of the stitches out and have to go back to see the doc.

  

This is the first time I realize that I’m not so tough. I don’t jog in, I walk. I dread them having to stitch me up again. I decide needles hurt. My hand is throbbing and I don’t want to play through the pain. Oh well, I can pretend I’m tough.

  

Now halfway through my first season I see what it REALLY means to be tough.

 

Enter Rob. Rob played the same position as I did - outside linebacker. He mainly kept to himself, and never seemed to get hurt. I realized later that he probably had the same bumps and bruises the rest of us had, the only difference was, Rob really was tough.

 

My freshmen year I played special teams only, and warmed the bench during the rest of the game. During one of these games Rob had make a spectacular hit on the running back sweeping toward the opposing team’s sideline. He and the running back flew out of bounds landing awkwardly on the player bench. The opposing team’s running back was down, and was staying down.

 

Rob popped up and headed over to our sideline. As he got close his position coach told him to get his ass back out on the field, it was only second down. His response was, “Coach, I need to go see the trainer real quick. I might be out a few plays”. From the tone is his voice you’d think he needed a tape job on his ankle.

  

That’s when we noticed the bone sticking out the side of his arm. He calmly trotted over to one of the trainers and asked if they could tape him up. When the trainer saw what he was referring to, he freaked. He didn’t know what to make of it – he started hyperventilating and soon fainted. Puss. Not being deterred, Rob walked over to another trainer and asked the same thing. To her credit, she didn’t freak. She simply told Rob to quit being a dumbass, and walked him off the field.

 

Now I’ve seen many guys injured on the “battlefield”, but never since have I seen with a broken bone sticking out of their body and a smile on their face.

 

My hat is off to you Rob. You’re one tough bastard!