For Part 1 of the story click here.
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The details of the second game of the tournament are lost to me. The only thing I remember is all the shit talking that took place prior to the game. All the talk centered around how it would be 8-4 vs 8-5 in the finals, an honors class final.
It turns out that 8-4 lost their semifinal game so there would only be one honors class in the finals, either 8-5 or 8-3. The only detail that I recall was the outcome of our semifinal game. My class won the game. I vaguely recall it being a close game. 8-5 had their chances but they threw too many deep balls and executed poorly when it mattered most.
Now my class, 8-3, was in the finals. We were the least likely of all the honors classes to make it. You could go so far as to call us the Cinderella story of this tournament. We even had guys from other honors classes asking if they can be ringers on our team. Clearly, we made it this far without them and I wasn't about to go into the finals with a new team full of egos. We were going to win or lose on our own!
It was the morning of the final game. It was also the last day of classes before the winter break. I woke up and it seemed like any other school morning: I was slow to get up. I kept asking my mom to come back in 5 minutes so I can squeeze in a little extra sleep. I finally decided to get up, not because of any sense of responsibility: I had to pee pretty badly. I swung my legs out of bed and tried to stand up. I had a tremendous shooting pain throughout both my feet and part of the way up my shin. I couldn't walk.
I would have asked for help from my mom but I didn't hear her nearby. We lived in a duplex apartment and I suspect she was upstairs, though I don't actually know where she was at the time. I figured the pain would pass the same way the pins-and-needles sensation goes away when your leg falls asleep. I dragged myself across the floor and down the hall to the bathroom commando-style, forearm over forearm. I slowly propped my body to an upright position first using the knob on the bathroom door, then the sink, and finally with the towel rack on the wall. I was doing some strange form of dips using the sink and towel rack to hold my body up while I pivoted to try and sit on the toilet to relieve myself. I was not only humiliated for having to go to such extremes to get to the bathroom but I was also really scared. When I finished, I called out for my mom and I remember feeling like it took her forever to come over to the bathroom. I didn't have the will to drag myself back to bed.
She came over and helped me back to my bedroom. It was clear I wouldn't make it to school that day. Normally, I wouldn't care about missing a day of school, especially when it meant an extended vacation, but this time it was different. I felt like I was letting my guys down. At the same time, I was concerned about what was afflicting me. My father, who woke up hours after my sister and I left for school, was surprised to see me in the house that morning. He tried soothing my feet by soaking them in a warm Epsom salt bath. It didn't help but at least he tried something (one of the few things I give him credit for in our life together).
My only course of action now was to go see the doctor. By the time I went to see the doctor, my feet felt better and I no longer had any pain. I was able to put my weight on my feet once again ans walk normally. Whether this was due to the bed rest or some other stroke of luck is unknown but we took no chances. My mother called a cab for us to go to the doctor's office.
I was embarrassed to be in the doctor's office explaining to him the pain I felt in the morning only to have him question my ability to walk into his office unassisted. It turns out he had a strong hunch as to what was wrong with me and insisted I see a cardiologist as soon as possible. He scheduled an appointment for me with one of his colleagues (and friend) a day or two later.
I was out of the doctor's office and home by 3 o'clock. I was feeling better and I was only a short walk away from school. If I left the house around 3PM, I knew I could make it in time. I seriously considered going to school to play in that final game. In the end, I decided against it. It was partly due the fear of the pain returning while I was on the schoolyard. I also didn't want to explain to my math teacher why I wasn't in school for class but was there for the game. To this day, Mr. Kralick is my all time favorite teacher and he was also the referee for the football games. He was an intimidating SOB and I honestly didn't want to deal with him after the morning I had. All I could do was hope that my guys did well.
After seeing the cardiologist, I was diagnosed with rheumatic fever (if you want more info, click here). My doctor told me that had I waited a few more days I could have had severe damage to my heart. Had I waited a few more days, I could have died from this. It's hard for me to put myself in that position again. As a 13 year old, it was almost impossible to imagine what dying truly meant. I knew enough to know it was serious but every time I think back on that diagnosis it chills me to the bone. I could have died! All my experiences since then would be unknown to me. The people whose paths I've crossed would have been altered forever, for better or worse.
Consider what you are doing at this very moment. This would never be happening since there would be no RaUM, no Alan, and I suspect neither one of us can imagine what our lives would be like had I not gone to the doctor, had I gone to play that last game, had things been different on that fateful December morning.
Fast forward to my return to school in January. It was a new year, I had been treated for the pain and was taking daily doses of penicillin. I'd be required to get a shot of penicillin every month of my life until I turned 18. It was preventive treatment to stop any recurrence of the disease. I don't recall ever catching a cold or being sick in any way shape or form from that moment until I became an adult. It was awesome!!
I had no idea what happened in the final game of the football tournament. I was eager to find out how it went. When I walked into homeroom at the start of the day, I was greeted by several of my classmates. They then immediately started peppering me with questions. Where was I that last day of class before the break? How could I abandon them? Why did I leave them on their own? What was so important that I missed the ONE GAME that mattered? I didn't quite understand why I was forced to answer all these questions until someone finally told me what happened in the game I missed. We got massacred. Destroyed. Humiliated. Outclassed. Run over. You're welcome to continue inserting relevant adjectives here.
They were venting their frustration at losing and blaming the loss on my absence. I must admit I was flattered, a bit upset they were saying it was my fault, but it definitely made me feel good since they felt I was important enough to be considered the primary reason we lost. Never mind the fact that we weren't even the best team in the tournament. I often think back to that time of my life and wonder what would have happened had I played in that game. I'll never know. But it's nice to imagine us finishing what we started and become the 8th grade football champs that year.
Once I explained to my classmates why I missed class that day they all fell silent and started apologizing for blaming me. After a few minutes, all the talk of the game and my illness was forgotten and we moved on. But for me, the memory lingers. Occasionally it creeps back into my consciousness and brings a smile to my face.
We played our hearts out and, whatever my influence may have been in our two wins, we won as a team. More importantly, I'm now in good health and I'm alive to tell the tale. I don't mean to over-dramatize that point but I have always been one who has taken my health for granted. That experience I had in the 8th grade always humbles me and reminds me how lucky I am to be where I am now.
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For years, this was one of my favorite stories to tell. This was my "Al Bundy" football story. I hadn't told it in years and I don't even know why it came back into my consciousness recently. Hope you liked it.
And for those of you who are wondering... YES! It really did happen to me. =)
Until next time, faithful reader......
