DRIVE: PROGRESS MUST CONTINUE
Sophomore year of high school. Football. I worked to be the best. It was week two against Chadwick High School.
The emphasis of practice leading to this matchup was gain tackling and ball pursuit. Every player must be 3-5 yards near the ball every play.
Gameday. Chadwick drove to our 10-yard-line. They ran a power play up the gut. The runner fought for yards. I pursued the pile to stop him from gaining any more of my yardage. I did and immediately felt an explosion in my hand, “Ah Dang that hurts!”
I didn’t want them to score so I stayed in the game. If I kept playing the pain would go away, usually. Not this time. I couldn’t do much with it. I was a liability with a compromised hand.
I checked myself out, “My hand hurts,” I said as the trainer gingerly rested it on her hands, “Ooo you felt that?” as she poked on the tinder spot of my hand, “It’s broken.”
I got examined the next day, “This is a clean break of the fourth metacarpal,” He exclaimed staring at my X-Ray, “This takes six to eight weeks — possibly but unlikely four weeks — to fully heal. But the good news is it heals nearly twice as strong.”
All I heard was four weeks. I told Coach G, my head coach, I’d be back in four weeks.
How can progress continue while eliminated from competition?
I couldn’t run or lift for the first few weeks. Sit-ups sufficed. I started with 300 a night after practice. Incrementally, I increased to 400 and 500. After 350 the remaining reps were more about patience than pain.
After a couple of weeks, I set my eyes on doing 1000 sit-ups. Why not?
My 4-week checkup, “How do you feel?” The Doctor asked.
“Good enough to play,” I replied, eager to return. My hand was still noticeably stiff.
He put me through a few exercises, “It isn’t ready yet. You may be able to return in a week or two.”
It was time to hit my goal of 1000 situps. I left the doctor's office, arrived home, marched to my room, hooked my toes underneath my dresser, and crunched. 100, 200, 300, 400, 500. I was tired. It was time for the Mamba Mentality. I knew it wouldn’t get any worse. If it did, Oh well. I pushed through. 600, 700, 800, 900, and 1000!
It took 37 minutes and 53 seconds. I was driven to find victory in the defeat of a broken hand. Progress must continue.
By Christian John Bradley
