CONCUSSIONS POSSIBLY LEADING TO PREMATURE DEATH? MANIFESTING OTHER HEALTH PROBLEMS? WE SHOULD HAVE KNOWN THAT BEATING THE BODY HAS LOTS OF CONSEQUENCES
IN THE NEXT FEW WEEKS, ONCE A REPORT ON THE HEALTH PROBLEMS THAT MAY ARISE, BEYOND THE DAMAGE CAUSED BY MULTIPLE AND SERIOUS CONCUSSIONS, THE MANAGEMENT OF FULL CONTACT SPORTS, PARTICULARLY, WILL HAVE SOME REASON FOR CONCERN ABOUT HOW TO MOVE FORWARD. THERE IS A NEW REPORT, I'VE JUST NOW HEARD ABOUT, THAT RELATES OTHER DYSFUNCTIONS AND PREMATURE DEATH, TO THOSE WHO HAVE SUFFERED NUMEROUS MAJOR CONCUSSIONS. THEY ARE LOOKING AT FOOTBALL AND THE QUARTERBACKS, WHO APPARENTLY TAKE THE MOST BODY JOLTING, HIGH SPEED HITS OVER A LIFETIME IN THEIR SPORT. SO WHAT HAS BEEN LEARNED IN THE PAST HALF-DECADE, ABOUT THE CONSEQUENCES OF REPEATED BRAIN INJURY, ESPECIALLY IN SPORT, HAS ENLIGHTENED THE SPORTS' WORLD, AND PARENTS FEEDING THE SYSTEM WITH THEIR YOUNGSTERS…..HOPING FOR EVENTUAL PROFESSIONAL CAREERS. THE MEDICAL EXAMINATION OF INJURED BRAINS, BELONGING TO DECEASED FORMER ATHLETES, FROM WRESTLING, FOOTBALL AND HOCKEY, IS NOW DRAWING CRITICALLY IMPORTANT CONNECTIONS TO SOME ATHLETES' PREMATURE DEATHS. IN A PRELIMINARY STUDY, THEY HAVE FOUND OTHER TROUBLING DYSFUNCTIONS RELATED TO BRAIN INJURY, THAT COULD BE A GAME CHANGER TO SPORTS MANAGEMENT…….AND CERTAINLY, FOR PARENTS, WHO NOW ARE FINDING MORE REASONS TO BELIEVE THIS CONTACT SPORTS THING, MAY HAVE A LONG TERM DISADVANTAGE TO THEIR YOUNGSTERS. BOY OH BOY. IF WE KNEW THEN, WHAT WE KNOW TODAY. IT BEGS THE QUESTION, HOW MANY FORMER ATHLETES, PROFESSIONAL OR OTHERWISE, HAVE LIVED IN THE HORROR OF MAJOR HEALTH ISSUES, IN PART, THE CONSEQUENCE OF BRAIN INJURY. THIS IS THE SHARP TIP OF THE ICEBERG. THERE'S A LOT MORE TO FIND OUT, AND I THINK THERE WILL BE A NECESSITY TO RE-THINK HOW WE TREAT THE HUMAN BODY, IN THE PURSUIT OF CHAMPIONSHIP TROPHIES, AND BIG, BIG PAYCHECKS. WILL IT BE WORTH IT, TO SUFFER THESE NEWLY IDENTIFIED MALADIES, JUST TO MAKE A BUCK…..OR TO ENJOY A LITTLE AFTER WORK RECREATION?
WE ALL HAD TO GET BACK IN THE GAME
There were a few mentors, way back when, like all-star netminder Roger Crozier, of the Detroit Red Wings, who believed I had a crack at the big leagues. He told me so when we met back in the mid 1990's in Wilmington, Delaware, when I was down there to cover an award he was receiving for exceptional community service. Roger, at the time, was working for the American bank, MBNA, as a corporate executive with Facilities Management. When I was a kid, he had extended an invitation to me, as a local goaltender, from a modest income family, to attend his Red Wing Hockey School, at the Bracebridge arena. I know it was the time of the race riots in Detroit, because we had a lot of city kids at the camp as well, and he and staff kept them in Muskoka longer, because of what was happening at home.
He told me at our luncheon, in front of witnesses, that I was considered one of the best minor hockey goalies at the time, but I think he used the words "showing promise," but from a former original six ace goaltender, my old heart nearly flipped out onto the floor. I couldn't believe I was considered above average as a goalie. Roger wasn't the kind of guy to embellish, so I know he was giving me an honest appraisal of the way it was……at least on the local hockey scene. I really enjoyed the camp. I do have a problem with my hip now, and I've always wondered if it had anything to do with the exercise drops with my heavy pads, that I had to do over and over and over, to get it right. I had to stand against the boards and drop until I couldn't get up again. Every day of the camp, it was the same exercise. I didn't like that part of it, because all I thought about was the scrimmage. I just wanted to play the sport I loved…..not train for it. This may explain why, after numerous injuries, including pucks in the throat, I'd had enough by my twenties to hang up the pads for good.
Roger by the way, suffered many injuries, including a shattered cheekbone, from a shot taken by Frank Mahovolich of the Toronto Maple Leafs. It was Roger's first professional game, at Maple Leaf Gardens, with family in attendance. He wasn't wearing any face protection. He knew what it was like to suffer for his craft.
When I was playing minor hockey, the intensity of training depended on the coach we had, and the league we were playing in at the time. I was given the opportunity, in the early ranks, to play both "Town League," or "House League," as they call it today, and "Allstar" which meant traveling throughout the region, with the potential of going on to provincial playoffs if we were good enough. I was the first string goalie on my town league team, because we didn't have a back up. I was it. In the ranks of all star, I "rode the pine" a lot, and I got the call when the starter got beaten to a pulp. After a succession of six or seven goals, they called on me to play. There were times when the ace goalie decided not to show up, and usually against the toughest opponents. I can't tell you how worrisome it was, to look over at the bench, and know there was no replacement if I got injured, or the goals against started to look like a football game. So I lived with both. Lots of goals against and many injuries. Unless I was suffering from the loss of a leg or arm, I was staying in the net. It didn't matter how I felt, because it would have been much worse, if I had insisted on pulling myself from the game. My team-mates would not have taken this well at all, and it would have meant that one of them would have had to become a make-shift goalie. You did what the coach, and even my parents advised. "Suck it up! It's just a little blood…..get over it!" "Shake it off Currie," my coach would yell, as I tried to get my breath back, after taking a slap-shot to the throat.
I remember playing in Baysville, during playoff rounds one year, when one of their forwards got tight in my crease, and wouldn't move. So my defense came to the rescue, but in the altercation in my goal crease, the Baysville player's stick came up fast, and the blade splintered on impact with my mask. Believe it or not, four shards of hockey stick, lined around my eye socket, but nothing actually hit the tissue of my eye-ball. I couldn't take my mask off. I looked like I ran face first into a porcupine. I went to the bench, and the coach plucked out the splinters, applied some antiseptic to the cuts, and sent me back to the net. There was no back up goalie, and we only had enough manpower for two complete player changes. When my sweat hit those cuts, boy did that smart. But this is the way it was, right through much of my minor to junior hockey days. The only justification for leaving the game, was sudden death. I mean that. I can remember taking a slapshot to the inside knee (my pads didn't have inside leg protection that they do now), and basically being unable to stand on the leg. Even my parents were yelling from the stands…."Come on Ted, shake it off." Even if I'd taken a crack to the head, the cheap seats where my parents sat, were going to erupt in typical yelling and screaming. "Come on, it was just a bump on the head. Get back in the game." I asked my parents to stop coming to the games. They complied. They never understood why I asked them to miss my games, but it had everything to do with insensitivity. These were just two parents out of millions, dear friends, who acted the same way. It wasn't manly to cry, or ask for medical assistance, unless you were tripping in your own blood.
Even as a photographer, covering major hockey events over the years for the community press, I saw fights and injuries, that impacted the head, and despite a player being knocked out cold, they'd be back in the game as soon as they came to, and could hold a stick. They probably didn't know who they were, or whether they were playing golf or hockey, but the argument was, you have to be tough to survive in hockey. That was fine for a coach and manager to say. They weren't the ones getting sticks over the head, or pucks in the throat. I saw players struggle to their feet, after getting pummeled in a hockey fight, who should have been taken directly to the hospital. I got into a lot of scraps with coaches back then, for writing columns about things like, "went to a fight last night and a hockey game broke out." I detested the level of violence I was having to watch, as a reporter, and it did manifest when I got a chance to write an opinion piece. Most of these players had no idea the potential damage they were causing themselves, getting medical advice from coaches and ill prepared trainers. You'd just watch and want to cry, studying some poor bastard trying to pick up the teeth that had just been beaten out of his mouth. I've had this happen right in front of my goal crease. Each time, in my opinion, it was the result of excessive and retaliatory force. Not an accidental hit with a high stick. There were a lot of anger issues I saw up close and personal. Yet the kids felt compelled to stay in the game, to please the coach and parents, and potentially the hockey scout team management always claimed would be in the bleachers watching the game. A lot of kids were duped in this fashion. "Hey you guys. If you want to make a name for yourself….tonight's the night. There'll be scouts in the stands." It was b.s. one hundred percent of the time for our team. It got kids to play aggressive and that was what the coach intended to happen.
The point is, that I had so many hits to the head, wearing totally inadequate equipment (as a goalie), that my brain is probably a lot like swiss cheese today. We did what we were asked. We'd take a hit, shake our heads to clear our vision (which worked sometimes), and got back into the game. I can remember a goaltender, during practice, taking a wicked slapshot in the family jewels. The kid was doubled over. Now in the 1960's and early 70's, most up and coming goalies used ordinary cups for protection. The reality was, these tin and cloth affairs wouldn't help much, if there was a rising, direct hit. So this guy is gagging, doubled-up on the ice, and the coach tells him that the way to stop the pain, is to get up on the skates, and jump up and down to ease the pressure from the injury. So here is this poor sap jumping up and down and getting sick to his stomach. I heard the coach laughing with one of the players, that he was having fun with the netminder, and that it certainly wasn't a cure for what was ailing him. It was in fact, probably the worse thing to do under the circumstances. And when coaches like this guy, told us to "shake off" our injuries, pretty much with the same disinterest, we wanted to please our coaches and our fans so much, we staggered back to our positions, tearful but willing to help the team win another game. I hated it then and I despise it now. It still goes on. I can't even imagine how many young lads had major concussions in minor hockey, and were never treated for the injury. Like I say, if you didn't have a body part severed on the ice, you were given a few minutes on the bench, maybe some smelling salts, and readied for the next shift.
I have a hard time containing my anger about this, because I remember some pretty rough cases, where a hospital visit was needed for injured players. The definition of injured was the pivotal question, and the evasive definition. With what we know today, about the ravages of traumatic brain injury, especially left untreated, we must wonder as a sports loving country, just how much lifelong suffering, has been caused by shortsightedness and outright neglect……based on, "We didn't know we were doing anything wrong."
There will be those macho folks who will claim…."what a pussy that guy is…….geez, he probably gets nose bleeds when he farts." Truth is, we could do with a lot less tools like this calling the shots. Hey, my parents were tools in this regard, and they had this belief, that if I was a cry-baby, I might just turn out left of centre-ice.
Watch your kids and grandkids and take injuries seriously, so they don't need a machine to breathe for them, or a cane at twenty.
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