The Story of John Tuggle

John Tuggle was a New York Giants football player that was the last player taken in the 1983 NFL draft.   With that last spot goes the unfortunate moniker "Mr. Irrelevant."  You see, very few last picks ever make a team anywhere.

John Tuggle was neither ordinary nor irrelevant.  Against all odds, he made the team and at the end of his rookie year, was named the Giants' Special Teams Player of the Year.

That's when things went downhill for him.  He and his college sweetheart divorced and a knee injury required surgery.  Then he was in an automobile accident and it was discovered that  he had an aggressive form of cancer. 

His diagnosis: Angiosarcoma, that had settled in his lungs.  He was given six months to live.

Not only did that not stop him, it didn't even slow him down.  His response to the diagnosis? ''Well, am I gonna sit around and cry about this or am I gonna take this as day one of beating it?''

So instead of rest and recuperation, Tuggle did what he knew best--work even harder.  Already a legend in the weight room, he put even more energy and dedication into his fitness level in a battle against his cancer.

And despite his cancer, he continued to play football in 1984 and 1985.  

Think about that for a moment....he was getting chemotherapy and radiation, went through several surgeries, had a cancer diagnosis that was terminal, and yet he continued to play professional football. 

Teammates with things as insignificant (in comparison)as an ankle sprain were reluctant to complain.   How could they? 

After the 1985 season, his contract was up and he was not re-signed to the Giants.  Physically, he just wasn't able to compete any more.  The cancer had taken too much from him.

I knew the basics of the story but only after watching ESPN's 30 for 30 Shorts did I know the rest of the story.  If you haven't seen it, you can probably find it on the internet.  It's worth watching but make sure you have a handkerchief handy.

 
For Coach Bill Parcells, cutting Tuggle was just about the hardest thing that he ever did.  And although he was no longer a member of the team, the Giants continued to pay for his health insurance (and would do so for the rest of his life).

He died the very next year, in 1986.  At age 25. 

Watching video of Tuggle play football and talk about his life can only inspire you.  Inspire you to work harder, to live life to its fullest, to dedicate yourself to something bigger than yourself.  

Of course he didn't want to die--didn't expect to die.  Until the last moments, he thought that he could beat the cancer.   But he did give it his everything, lived the life he imagined, and knew where he was going after that last breath.

What more can we ask.

The Problem with Backpacks

Without violating all sorts of federal and state laws about privacy and all that (if you know what HIPPA means, then you know what I'm talking about), let me tell you today that I am currently treating four high school-age teenagers for neck and back problems that I believe are due to the heavy backpacks that they have to carry at school every day.

Four patients in physical therapy at one time by one physical therapist.   And there are a lot more physical therapists around here than just me.  Figure that in and over the course of the year, the number of kids hurting from backpacks becomes staggering.

I've written about this topic before and goodness knows I've preached that sermon anytime anyone would listen but something has got to be done.

Just last week, I picked up the backpack of one of my student athletic trainers just to move it out of the way.  I thought I had dislocated my shoulder as I lifted it up.

My goodness, I once backpacked the length of the Appalachian Trail that lies within the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, from Fontana to Davenport Gap with a backpack that weighed less than the one this 15 year old girl was carrying.

I think a lot of it is the backpack itself.  They just aren't made for these kinds of weight.   For the same weight, I would want a trekking pack with a padded hip belt, an internal frame, and much better shoulder straps. In other words, a backpack made for carrying heavy loads.   But that's only part of the problem.

The posture that they have to assume to carry this load is awful.  No wonder they hurt.

You see them walk by and they are all hunched forward, with their shoulders rolled in tugging on the straps, bent forward at the waist as though they were facing a mighty wind, with their head straining forward to help balance the load.

It is positively obscene.  

And here's what most people don't understand:  they do this every day.   Sometimes it is between classes.  More than once, I've heard the complaint from one of these teens that they have to carry ALL of their books ALL day, since their locker is too far away for them to visit it between classes.  

So what happens?  They end up with neck and back problems and in physical therapy for treatment and rehabilitation.  And goodness knows what is in store for them as they get older.

Better backpacks would help.  I've tried making the suggestion that they switch to one of those cases that roll along behind you, pulled by a handle (like you would see in an airport).  No way!   That would most definitely not be cool.

I understand budget constraints and the constant pressure on our schools to do more with less but in the computer age is there not an electronic option?   I got another degree in 2008 where I didn't have a single textbook, where most of the work was done on my laptop from any place I could get on the internet.  

I don't have all the answers but I'm pretty sure I've got a handle on what the problem is.

Attention to the Details

I see it every day--dreams in the making.

Maybe it's an athlete working out at the fitness center that serves as the view from my desk or maybe it's somebody on my football team.   It could be somebody in the batting cage next door or one of the many outside at Maryville Little League.

Exercising, working, sweating, and yes, hurting...all in the pursuit of an athlete's dream.

Sometimes the dream is a big picture like the running back that dreams about scoring the winning touchdown or the basketball player that leads their team to victory.  

We never dream of failure--always success.   Always driving in the winning run or getting the last strikeout.  Of kicking a field goal as time expires.   But before you get to that point, there is a lot of work to be done.  

You've first got to learn the basics that provide the foundation for further skill acquisition.   Nobody goes out and high jumps 6 feet on the first try.  Speed, technique, and practice have got to come first.

It is the little things like perfecting the gymnastics dismount or the handspring roundoff.   At some point, it might have been just getting to the end of the balance beam without falling off.  Or hitting free throws consistently.

Those small pieces that make up athletic success.  I guess my point today is pretty simple:  That focusing on those little parts is what ultimately leads to the bigger success.   Some coaches call it "attention to the details."

I know I see that every day too.   Coaches running the same play again and again until it is perfect and then running it some more so that it becomes automatic.   That is often what separates those that persistently succeed from those that too often fail.

Let's look the progression of a successful running back.  At first you run.   Then you learn to run faster.   Then you learn how to start fast at the snap of the ball.  Along the way you learn to change directions and evade a tackler.  Then you learn how to read a defense and hit the seams open to you.

The good ones seem to have an innate sense about when they are about to be tackled.  More than once, I've seen a good runner accelerate once they are in the open. 

Or take tennis.   First you learn the forehand, then maybe the backhand.   The overhead comes in there sometime and the volley.   Next you start to put the game together and can actually begin to play the game. 

Maybe all this is why I have no interest in league championships and that sort of things for children.   Save that stuff for when it means much more.   In my opinion, the perfect little league season is when all teams hover around .500 (winning about half of their games).   That means that working on the basics-giving kids the skills to later put together winning performances-is the most important thing.

Giving children opportunities to build that foundation is the best thing that you can do for them.   In other words, the most important thing you can do for your budding superstar is to have them learn how to move and use their bodies.  That means that they play different sports and try new things.

As I've said here before, my son's first sport was gymnastics where the balance beam was his favorite activity.  I'm willing to bet that the balance he learned at 3 under the tutelage of Pat Dial made him a better athlete later on. 

His first team sport was baseball, where you do lots of different things (throw, run, catch, hit a moving object) and then soccer, where you learn to use your feet.  His final sport, football, was where he was most successful.

I think those basic movement skills served him pretty well.

People Watching

I've got a confession to make:  I'm a people-watcher.  Pretty much always have been.

In some ways, it's part of my job.  In physical therapy school, we were tasked with watching someone walk across the room and then deciding what was wrong with them from the way they walked.

I still do that.  If I see someone with a limp, I will automatically try and figure out why they are limping.  Getting over a sprained ankle?  Had knee surgery?   An amputee?   I've gotten pretty good at it.

I do it on the football field all the time.  I usually have a good idea from body language what is wrong with one of my athletes.   Holding their arm and bent forward as they walk toward me?  Possible clavicle (collar bone) fracture. 

I'm not always right.  In the Maryville-Alcoa game, I had a player down on the field and I thought from the way they were laying that there was something seriously wrong.   I think I broke the 50 yard sprint time (geezer version) on Goddard Field that night.

Turns out it wasn't quite so bad.  But I do it all the time anyway.  

I do it away from sports too.  I'll watch the people around me all the time.  What kind of person are they?   What kind of work do they do?

I remember a Mechanics Illustrated article that must have been in the mid-60's that talked about physical characteristics that would reveal what kind of work someone would do.

Like chipped teeth--the person was probably a carpenter or carpet layer who held nails or tacks in their teeth.   For some reason, that one has stayed with me all these years.

I was in a restaurant just the other day when I watched  an older fellow walk in.  I suspect he was a regular at this particular place because he paused for a nice chat with our waitress, a personable young lady that seemed genuine in her interest in this fellow.

And then he sat alone and had his meal.  I admit that I've thought at times that having to dine alone would be incredibly lonely.   Maybe he chose to be alone.  Maybe he doesn't have anyone to share the meal with.  

This fellow really didn't seem lonely.  And why should he?   He had just had real human contact and was now sitting down to a nice meal in a pleasant place, surrounded by people.

It helped me realize that people just want a connection.   A real connection with a real person.

Can you imagine how difficult it must be for someone with autism, where their condition really won't allow them to connect with another person?   Or someone who just doesn't have anybody in their life like that gives them that human touch that we all need?

I hope I taught my kids that when they greet someone, that their handshake is firm but firm in a secure way--they're not out to prove how strong their grip is.   I'm never impressed with that.

When they talk to someone, that they make eye contact.   In my opinion, those that can't make eye contact have something to hide. 

So if you catch me watching you across the room, remember that it is part of my job but probably more of who I am.

Diet and Exercise Fads

Philosopher Marcel Proust's most quoted dictum is that we should "cherish those who seek after truth.  But beware  of those who say they have found it."  I've always like that one.  Repeated it many times. 

I think it applies really well to diet and exercise too.  

Let's take dieting.   Beginning in the 80's, it seemed like every day some "expert" came up with a new diet that was THE THING and was going to change the way we eat forever.  Oh, there have always been diets but most of them up to that point were simply food restrictive.  

Watermelon diet one day, purple diet (only eat things purple) the next.   Then came the next wave, all leading up to Adkins and South Beach and now Paleo.  

Accompanying every new fad was someone who had finally figured it all out--who had found the dietary truth (and just so happened to be selling a book about it).   I'm still waiting for one of those experts to decide that bacon is good for you.  I'll promptly jump on that bandwagon.

What I think we know with relative certainty is that we should minimize fat, sodium, refined sugar, and refined flour in our diet.   We all should eat more fruits and vegetables and if it comes in a can it doesn't count.  All that other stuff is for book sales.

And then came the exercise experts. 

For many years, Ben Plotnicki was a UT professor of physical education that was definitely old school.   In his fitness class, he taught us how to jump rope and emphasized getting our heart rate up to a point where we actually got something out of it.

In that era, in the 70's, if you wanted to get better at a sport, you played that sport.  I can remember when I heard that Pete Rose was lifting weights and playing professional baseball. It was definitely radical for the day.

Jack LaLanne was the original exercise guru.  But then everybody figured out that you had to exercise like Jack Lalane and wear a jumpsuit to look like Jack LaLanne.

In the late 70's, along came Jim Fixx and everybody became a distance runner.  Only problem was that Fixx died of a heart attack in his 40's.  Richard Simmons tried to make America into a spandex-wearing, dancing-as-calisthentics country.   Didn't work and now Simmons is the butt of a lot of jokes.

There's the one guy on TV that will sell you a video that promises to make you look like him but the guy has had so much plastic surgery that I can't imagine there are too many people that truly want to look like him.  I know I certainly don't.

I may sound at times like I've found the exercise truth (and I sure do talk about biking and CrossFit a lot) but I can tell you that I'm still searching for the best way to exercise.  Through generations of exercise guru's, there has remained only one truth:  That there is no substitute for hard work.  

 

50th Anniversary of the Freedom March on Washington

Here's the way these things start:   An idea, a quote, a phrase from a song (last week), a sermon, a comment from someone who gave no thought to the possibility that their words could end up as the source for this column. 

Week before last, I was talking to a friend about his new job.   He was excited about the possibilities but expressed disappointment that he had to go out of town to find this job, that maybe job opportunities here weren't as good as they should be because of the color of his skin. 

My first thought was "in Blount County?"  Surely we are beyond prejudices and allowing race determine opportunity here.   Surely.

But I know this guy and I trust him and he is in a position to see that side of us all and maybe he really has experienced all this.   Even in 2013 with the White House occupied by a mixed race individual.

Tuesday is the 50th anniversary of the March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom, which featured Martin Luther King, Jr's "I Have a Dream" speech.   

So last Sunday morning, I was thinking about a column about race relations and persistent prejudice even in a place like Maryville, Tennessee.   But I wasn't sure where it would go.  It was just some random group of thoughts running around inside my head, not knowing where to land but knowing that this was a topic that could generate some measure of controversy.

And then my wife and I go out for a movie that she and I both wanted to see, "Lee Daniels' The Butler."

Oh, my.   It's about Cecil Gaines, a butler in the White House that served 8 Presidents, from Eisenhower to Reagan.   Along the way, he faces trials and tribulations that most of us can't even imagine. 

Although based on a real person, the movie folks took a lot of liberties with the story.  Still it is historically accurate, from the post-Reconstruction south to the civil rights movement to Obama in the White House.  

The movie is now on my short list of favorites but at the same time be warned:  It can be deeply disturbing.  It commands us to face the dark side of race relations and it doesn't take much to see the prejudice in the world not just to the black man but to the red man and the yellow man and to everything in between. 

Prejudice in sports.  Prejudice in the work place.  Prejudice where we think there is none. 

Go back 50 years, when I was but a boy and we did have "separate facilities" for blacks and whites.  From Martin Luther King, Junior's speech on that day in Washington, DC:

"I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed  'we hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal....'"

"I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character."

"It's My Job"

Back when I was in high school (just after the Dark Ages), I thought the world revolved around the local high school, particularly around the high school football season.

For sure, the biggest collection of folks in my hometown was Friday night football, especially if the team was good, but growing up, I didn't realize there was a larger world out there even in that small community, a community that did have quite a few folks whose life most definitely did not revolve around it.

At one time, I thought most surely that everyone was also in church on Sunday morning.   I found out differently about that one too.

But still, it is a wonderful time of year as the weather moves steadily toward winter and the sounds and sights and smells are all at their peak in this part of the country.  It's my favorite time of year.

For me, it is also the busiest time of the year.  My work days start early, with the 7 AM clinic for student-athletes at Cherokee followed by a day in the clinic or meetings and administrative time.  Afternoons find me at football practice from just before school is out until everyone is taken care of.

Once the season starts, the days just get longer.   Mondays might find me at a Freshman/JV football double header.  Thursdays, it is usually a middle school game.  Friday night, of course, is varsity football, which usually lasts until after 10 PM, unless there is an injured athlete that I need to follow to the Emergency Room.  Then it can be midnight or later.

Athletic Trainer Jen Winbigler covers everything except football at MHS but when she can't be two places at once, I will attend a volleyball game or a soccer match. 

Before you offer me some cheese to go with the whine, let me make it clear that I'm not complaining at all.  In fact, I love it.

Can there be a better place than sidelines at a high school football game?  Not for me.  The opportunity to be a part of the team and able to enjoy the thrill of victory alongside the coaches and players?  More than a few folks would trade places with me in a heartbeat.

And it's not just my games.  I enjoy them all.   I've watched kids grow up at all our local schools.

I look forward to seeing The Daily Times the next morning to read what Marcus or Grant or John wrote about the games.   Heck, if I get home early enough, I like to watch the 11 o'clock news to see what they have to say too.

And when my day job is over, I can often be found in Nashville or Washington, advocating for my professions and my patients, attending meetings and teaching seminars in a constant attempt to learn and grow, or on my bike.

But I do get tired and I am getting old so I do complain occasionally about the hours.  Right now, I'm putting in 50-60 hours a week.  My family is quick to remind me that I chose this job and this life.   To remind me that I could just as easily choose an easier path and a 40 hour work week.  That I could say "no" occasionally.

But that just wouldn't be me.  

One of my favorite Jimmy Buffett songs is called "It's My Job."  In it, Jimmy sings that "it's my job--without it, I'd be less than what I expect from me."

That probably sums it up pretty well.