Worse Than Riding the Bench

Normally, at this time of night, I’m listening to ESPN podcasts, catching up on my sports news of the day while I finish my design work for the day.  Not tonight.
In the summer doldrums of sports news—when ESPN personalities tend to take their vacation breaks—I know what the headline will be: the unprecedented number of season-ending injuries at NFL training camps.
And every single one of the panelists will focus their conversations on how the teams that lost a key player will adapt this coming season to their respective losses.
Queue obvious, time-filling prognostication like:
“Starters are starters for a reason,”
“So much of championship football is just staying healthy,”
“This gives one more guy in training camp a chance to make the team,” and
“There are 52 more men on that roster that have to step up.”
What I don’t expect to hear—because you almost never hear it until the E:60 or Sporting Life well after the fact—is any discussion of what the months ahead will look like for the injured.
I root for the Baltimore Ravens; and they lost one of their most potent offensive weapons, Dennis Pitta, for the season.  Pitta fractured his hip in a collision with a teammate during practice this weekend.  When I Googled his exact injury, almost every story in the search results headlined about the former VIkings’ tight end that the Ravens signed to a one-year contract to replace Pitta’s spot on the field.
Tonight, though, Pitta’s probably squirming in some serious pain.  After he gets over the nausea from orthopedic surgery, soreness will throb past the medications to which he’s limited.  He won’t be able to sleep deeply for days or weeks.  Trips to the bathroom will follow strategic planning, and showering will probably be out of the question for at least a few days.  He’ll lose weight and then get “fluffy.”
I went through all of that after my shoulder surgery in 2005; but Pitta’s situation resonates with me right now because I’m currently sidelined with a pelvis-area injury, too.  I severely pulled a groin muscle four months ago.  I was told back then that, due to its location and severity, I could expect a six-to-twelve month recovery time.  A month or two later, I got a second opinion; and my physician said I could slowly ease back into exercise with pre-heating and post-icing.
I tried to go back to basketball but couldn’t limit myself.  Because my unskilled game is predicated on hustle plays, and I couldn’t hustle—and because I reinjured that area—I benched myself again a couple weeks ago.  I’m probably looking at another two months away from the game that has gotten me out of bed three mornings a week for the past five years.
Fortunately for me—as difficult as it is—I can stay out of the basketball gym altogether. I can avoid the temptation to force things. I can skirt the peer pressure from my buddies who’ve told me, “Hey, I play hurt.”
Injured NFL players, though, still attend their teams’ games, even some road games. Some injured athletes even attend team functions during the week.  They want the reputation of a team player, and they live in a culture that equates manhood with pain tolerance and self-sacrifice.  I can’t imagine the pressure they face—and the worry that they’ll be able to return at 100% capability and durability to an already-short career lifespan.  The smaller the stats are on their resume, the smaller their next contract (if they even get one).
James Brady wrote on SBNation.com this weekend, “Hip injuries are particularly debilitating for athletes and taking all the necessary time to rehabilitate and recover is the most important thing for Pitta going forward.”
So, tonight, I’m choosing not to think about the Ravens’ new playoff chances or their altered offense’s chemistry.  Tonight, I’m not going to feel sorry for Peyton Manning working with a third-string center or Chip Kelley coaching without a full stable of dynamic receivers for the NFL version of his Oregon offense.
Tonight, I’m hoping these limping players can get back to the game they love—simply because I can’t wait to get back to mine.
 
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