Each time you enter the field of play, there is always that nagging thought at the back of your mind. The one that reminds you that there is a real chance of you being seriously injured. Riding my bike through the streets in peak hour, that thought is there as well. For the most part, it is possible to successfully avoid injury. Experience is very helpful in understanding situations and how best to protect yourself in a variety of circumstances. When I say to people that I play football, some are horrified that I would take such a risk. But I am much more frightened of playing sports that I don't have experience in. For example, I am much more scared of the hard ball and sticks in hockey than I am of a similar ball and bat in cricket. Even with experience, however, the chance still remains that you won't be able to walk from the field when the game ends.
In my lifetime I have been mostly fortunate with injury. Much of this comes down to chance, but it also relies on body composition and actions. When I have been injured, it is not the pain that informs me of the severity. Pain also occurs when you are not injured badly and can continue to play. The couple of times serious injury has struck, it is the feeling that something is not right. Proprioception informs you that a limb is not quite in the position that it is supposed to be. In short, you know immediately that you are hurt and badly.
Sometimes injury can come from an action that you know is dangerous. I was once accidentally knocked unconscious by a team-mate as I ran backwards with the flight of the ball and my head collided with his arm. Due to being unconscious, I didn't know that anything was wrong when I came to. Somebody asked me what the date was and I couldn't remember. I knew it was an important date, but it wouldn't come to me. It was my birthday and when I realised, I knew that I shouldn't continue to play. Sometimes an injury comes from something you are supposed to do. Once I tackled an opponent and as I pulled him to the ground, I dislocated my acromioclavicular joint. As soon as my elbow hit the ground and our collective weight forced my ligaments to tear, I knew that I wouldn't be playing on. But sometimes injury comes from an action that seems entirely innocuous. While sliding on my knees to collect a loose ball on a dewy ground, I felt my lower leg twist and all of my weight went through the inside of my right knee.
I lay on the field and writhed around, holding my injured knee. I tried to stand, but the pain was too great and I returned to lying on the grass. When the injury occurred, I heard a sound like the clicking of fingers and in that split-second, I knew my footballing career could quite possible be finished. As I get older, I am very aware that I will not be able to play football forever. Being repeatedly questioned about why I continue adds to the sense that I don't have much longer left to play. So as I lay on the ground and thought about that click, I thought that this could be it. A couple of team-mates came to ask if I was alright, and I told them no. The umpire asked if I needed a stretcher and I said yes, knowing that this would halt the game and I would no longer be in the way. The stretcher came, but, not wanting to be too irritating, I waved it away and chose to hop off the field with the assistance of our runner and water boy. The strange feeling in my knee told me that I wouldn't be playing football in the near future.
When injury occurs, people often decide that it is a message that they should no longer play that sport. Although this is a realistic position, and one that doctors often support, it is not one that I was ever prepared to entertain. It may be the case that the last action I ever performed in a football game was sliding on my knees for a loose ball, but I want to be able to choose if this is so. I don't want to be able to excuse myself from something because my body is not physically able. I want to choose whether I am involved based purely on my enjoyment of the activity.
The strangest thing about being injured is that missing the game is not the hardest part. I think that I was prepared for that. Injury always stops people from playing sport. The hardest part is the impact on your everyday life. Stairs become a major obstacle. Getting in and out of cars, an exercise in mitigating pain. Putting socks on, a yogic balancing act. And sleeping, a pain-interrupted doze. Boredom quickly sets in. One of the great things about sport is that you are out with others, doing something enjoyable. When you can't do that, you start to pray for the next season of television shows to watch. You read aged magazines in waiting rooms to kill time. Every conversation focuses on your limp and what it means. Your condition and how it occurred are on repeat in your mind. The injury envelopes your every experience and alters it to make it more frustrating, mundane and painful.
Despite all of this, injury has not been depressing. I did anticipate that it would be and still anticipate it could be, but it hasn't been yet. I look forward to my next appointment and to my rehabilitation exercises. Each of these gives me something to focus on so that I can return to health. I look forward to being able to ride again, to being able to go to the gym, to being able to run. The goals are clear and achievable. The dangers of sport are ever-present but there is a reason why people continue to be involved. For me, the enjoyment and pleasure that are inherent in sporting activities will remain and are not permanently dulled by the pain of injury. I look forward to taking my next mark and kicking my next goal, because sometimes rewards are worth the risk.
