Robofootball: Doublespin

“Ouch!” Exclaimed Jess.

“What’s the matter?”

“Can we maybe switch places Carly?”

“Sure, but what’s the matter?”

“Just a bruise, you were at the Mt. Pleasant game last Friday night, right?”

“Of course I was silly, you know I play the clarinet in the band. I did get there a little late, had a debate club meeting followed by some Quiz Bowl practice.”

“We got killed 37-10, I had no touchdown passes, but did manage to run one in. I got sacked 5 times, and hit pretty hard, right there.” He pointed to the right side of his rib cage where Carly had leaned into him.

“Oh, is it still sore?”

“Like I said, just a bruise, took a helmet into the ribs”.

“Let me see.” She started pulling up his shirt.

“Whoa there, ouch!”

“We’ve been swimming before Nancy Boy! I’ve seen you with your shirt off.”

“No, that’s not it; it’s a bit, a bit, just sore is all. Oh yeah, what’s a Nancy Boy?”

“My mom is Irish, I think it’s what they call a boy who’s kind of girly, you know, a sissy. Dang, look at that, I can see why you’re hurting,” Carly’s grin morphed into a much more concerned look. “It’s purplish-red, quite a few blood vessels burst, are you sure you didn’t break a rib?” She started feeling gingerly….

“Ow!”

“They seem intact, but I’m not a doctor. It is awfully tender isn’t it?”

“Trainer said it was just a bruise, a good one.” Jess pulled his shirt back down.

“How’s your ankle from the game the previous week with Clare?”

“It’s okay, I can run on it.”

“Just because you can run doesn’t necessarily mean that it’s okay.”

“It’s better.”

The back seat of the extended cab pickup was about the size of that in a typical midsize car, but when Carly squeezed past him, she raked her back side unpurposefully across his rib cage.

“Ah,” Jess stifled a more vocal groan by biting his lower lip. The team was now 3-3 with 3 games left. They probably needed to win at least 2 if not all 3 to make the regional playoffs. Six games in he felt awfully battered and bruised, far more so than his last couple of years at the junior varsity level. The juniors and seniors at the varsity level, especially from some of the bigger Class A or Division 1 schools like Mt. Pleasant, hit harder, a lot harder, like bread trucks.

“Sorry,” Carly said as she caught the grimace on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It’s Sunday afternoon….”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“You didn’t let me finish.”

“Oh sorry, bad habit of mine.”

“I meant to say that it’s only been 2 days, less than that since it is afternoon, and the game was just Friday night.”

“Yes, but a big bruise like that will probably take more than a week to heal. My god Jess, it’s as big as a saucer. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Just don’t lean on it and I’ll be fine.”

She nestled closer and placed her head cautiously on his left side, careful to leave several inches between her head and the purple markings. She reached out with her left hand, but then retracted it. It would have been natural to reach up to his face, but she feared that her arm or elbow would rake across his right rib cage, particularly where the bruise was located.

“Don’t you wear padding for just these occasions?”

“Sure.”

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Isn’t it supposed to prevent you from getting injured?”

“I suppose.”

“It doesn’t appear to be doing a very good job.”

“Some of that stuff is kind of old.”

“How often do they replace it?”

“I have no idea.”

“Can you buy your own?”

“I suppose we could. I’d have no idea where to get it.”

“Meijer and Wal-Mart don’t sell that stuff?”

“Not that I know of.”

“What about the sporting goods stores like Dunham’s, MC, Or Dick’s or something? Hell, you can find anything online too.”

“Maybe, but I don’t know if would make much of a difference.”

“Why?”

“When you get blindsided, it’s going to hurt. The guy did get a 15-yard penalty for a spear.”

“Is that an illegal play?”

“Yes, you’re not supposed to tackle or hit directly with your helmet.”

“All he got was a penalty?”

“Yeah, but it did put us in a position to score.”

“So, was it worth it?”

“What do you mean?”

“To get a big ass bruise just so you could score some points in a game?”

“Take one for the team,” Jess said lightly as his rib cage hurt when he laughed.

“It’s not funny Jess, what happens if you get hit in the head like that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Any idea what a saucer-size bruise might do to your head?”

“I wear a helmet.”

“You said that your equipment might not always make much of a difference.”

“Well, the helmet is the strongest piece, the plastic is really hard.”

“Is it old too?”

“I suppose.”

“You ever look at it?”

“What?”

“You know, examine it.”

“Why?”

“For cracks or damage.”

“I don’t know, seems okay to me.”

“What happens if your helmet breaks?”

“I don’t know, I’ve seen a few cracks I guess. I assume they throw them out.”

“Yours is probably okay, but what about some back-ups or bench players, don’t they get the second hand crappy stuff?”

“Yeah,” Jess laughed at the thought and then clutched his ribs. “Now that I think of it, some of the older stuff can be a bit rough. There’s this one guy Danny, he’s like 3rd string, defensive back, fast, but he’s little, 5 foot 3 or 4 inches, doesn’t play much. One of his shoulder caps over the shoulder pad is broken and held together by super glue, it’s….,” he tailed off when he noticed that Carly was giving him that hands on your hips high and mighty look.

“I see,” she said knowingly and whipped out her phone to do some quick Google searches on football injuries. What came back in a split second were tens of thousands of hits. She started scanning some of the CDC reports at the top of the first Google page on such things as violence, injury, lack of proper safety equipment, weight problems, and an entire host of damaging information concerning the negative effects of football. Her eyes widened.

“What is it?” Jess inquired.

“From what I can see, that football should be outlawed, and some at the CDC are arguing for just that.”

“No kidding,” Jess snickered.

“It’s not that funny. You should see the injury and death rates of pro football players, in some cases, they’re 20 times more likely to suffer strokes, concussions, heart attacks, and all sorts of things compared to the general population. There is a doctor at the CDC named Mendoza, and it looks like she’s done a lot of research on football injuries.”

“Hell, you can get injured walking on the sidewalk. Are we supposed to stay indoors our entire lives?”

“No, but there doesn’t seem to be much out there like football, except maybe boxing, and some of that cage fighting stuff you watch.”

“I don’t know, I like sports.”

“I know and you told me before, football is your favorite, right?”

“I guess so.”

Carly sighed, “I worry about you is all.”

“Thanks.”

“I’m going to read up on this stuff some more later,” she said as she closed her phone with a quick flick of her forefinger.

“Uh oh.”

“Uh oh is right! Bur for now, we’ve got to leave here in a half an hour or so, do you think you could kiss me once or twice, or are your lips damaged too?”

“No, they’re fine.”

“Show me.”

“Do not consort with bad men or women, but always hold to the good. Eat and drink with them, whose power is great, sit with them and please them. You will learn good from good men and women, but if you mingle with the bad you will lose such wisdom as you already have. Therefore consort with the good and one day you will say that I give good advice to my friends.”

Theognis of Megara, Advice to a Young Aristocrat