Preventing ACL Injuries

 

I’ve got some good news and some bad news.  Which do you want first?

OK. The bad news. Anterior Cruciate Ligament (ACL) injuries continue to occur—at an alarming rate. The statistics just don’t seem to get any better.  There are over 250,000 ACL injuries ever year.

Athletes are at a much higher risk, being involved in over 10 times more ACL injuries than non-athletes.  And even among non-athletes, the person injured is likely to be participating in some sort of physical activity.

Females are between 7 and 9 times more frequent with ACL injuries.  Factors affecting that include physical differences between males and females with females having a wider pelvis and a greater Q-angle at the knee, different hormonal changes, maybe a later start in sports and definitely a later start in weight training.

There are just a few of the possible factors and there is definitely no consensus.  I list these things because that is my opinion—an opinion based on 48 years of clinical practice and a lifetime of clinical research.

The most common mechanism is when you plant your foot and suddenly change directions.  Football, basketball, and soccer are generally the biggest culprits, but part of that may be due to the higher participation rates in those sports in this country.

More bad news—research tells us that if you have one ACL injury, you are 15 times more likely to develop a second ACL injury, in that knee or the other one.

By now, you’re probably asking what the good news might be.

Ah…the good news.  The good news is that there are a lot of things that you can do to prevent ACL injuries.  Nothing is a sure thing but studies have shown that effective intervention programs can cut that incident rate by as much as half. 

That might not seem too profound, but if you’re in the good half, you like those odds.

So, what can you do? First, encourage all children to be physically active from an early age.  Encourage weight training once they reach puberty. Eat healthy and sleep well.

And see a Sports Physical Therapist. You see, those biomechanical issues can be addressed.  Weak hip musculature, particularly for external rotation, can be a huge factor. Foot biomechanics, or the way the foot hits the ground, can be massive.

The Sports PT is trained in biomechanics and is the movement experts, and those two arenas are where you can make the biggest impact in preventing ACL injuries.

An analysis by the Sports PT can serve as the foundation for training and moving forward. Areas that can be addressed include jump landing, core strength, and resolution of other mechanical issues that can contribute to a breakdown in the kinetic chain, too often manifesting as that dreaded ACL injury.

Prevention isn’t easy and it requires dedication and a commitment to ongoing attention to all the details, but doing so might help you avoid an ACL tear. 

And that’s definitely a good thing. 

Tell them today...

 

I’ve attended too many funerals lately. No…that’s not right. Funerals are something that we do to honor those that have died. It’s not an obligation. It’s a sign of respect.

If you live long enough, you’re going to find that this is something you do more and more. I know I fight the notion, but I am old and, hopefully, getting older, so I find myself attending those things.

Each of us grieve in our own way. Some public, some private. Funerals, to me, are more about those left behind. The family. The spouse.

I counted up recently how many times I’ve been back to my hometown.  Of the 10 or so times I could remember, only a couple were for anything but a funeral.

I missed the funeral of my high school football coach, Coach Bert “Chig” Ratledge. I was traveling. Same thing for Dr. Gary Dutton, another football coach and mentor.

I was able to see both of them not long before they died, and they knew very clearly how important they were to my life and my successes.  They both always told me they were proud of me. I don’t think they could understand how important that was to me. 

And that’s lesson number one for today. Tell those that have been important to you, at whatever stage in life they were present, what that meant to you.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again—teachers and coaches have a profound influence on who we are, who we become, even how we see the world.  I was blessed to have many of those in my life.

Always, those coaches.  Mrs. Smith, my physics and chemistry teacher. Dr. Barrett, English teacher at UT.  Dr. Ed Headlee, senior English teacher at my high school and Explore Post director. Ruth Mulvaney, my favorite teacher in PT school.

My little Daddy.  Quiet. Uneducated. Hard working. He taught me to love education.  He taught me to aspire to be a better man. He instilled in me integrity, trustworthiness, and dependability.

Those Boy Scout leaders, too many to mention. I wish I could remember which one of them selected me at 12 to be a Patrol Leader of a new patrol, because that is what set me on my path of leadership.

That opportunity taught me the value of teamwork, that you lead from the front, that the team is greater than its parts.  It taught me that leadership was all about service to others, even though we never expressed it that way. The concept of “servant leader” was to come along much later.

The Boy Scout motto: Be prepared. The Boy Scout slogan—Do a good turn daily.  I can still recite the Boy Scout Law. A Boy Scout is trustworthy, loyal, helpful, friendly, courteous kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean, reverent.

The Boy Scout oath: “On my honor, I will do my best….” If you know, you know.

Tell somebody today that you love them. Tell those that have made a difference in your life how much you appreciate them and what they did for you. It might be your last chance.

The Demise of the Team

 

You might have figured out that I’m a sports fan. Not like, always watching it on TV or knowing the statistics of favorite players. Like, I believe in the value of sports and how important they can be in personal development.

Oh, I’ll watch my Clemson Tigers when they’re on TV and I like to keep up with how my friend Alan Hardin’s Texas Longhorns are doing. Or Randall Cobb’s team when he was playing.

I can’t tell you who all the players are on any team and goodness knows I’m not going to be listening to sports radio shows.  But I believe in the value of sports. 

I wanted my kids to be athletes yet I never cared much what games they played—they just had to play something.  That’s pretty much the same thing with their kids. 

You’ve heard it before—lessons learned on the fields of strife and all that.  Life lessons.  Lessons about how to be coached.  Lessons learned from seeing the results of good effort.

Lessons learned from being on a team.

Anybody that knows me knows that I’m an especially huge fan of high school sports, particularly football.  There is really nothing like it.  Playing for the love of the game. Representing your school, your community.

At a lot of places, your high school team is made up of kids that you grew up with.  Friends that you’ve had since t-ball or biddy league.  That sort of thing.

That makes it extra special. There is a different kind of love in the love for your teammates.  I still have friends from high school football. Lonnie Hawkins. Mike Bivens. Greg Cagle. Ricky Alexander. Gordo Watson. I visited with JL Millsaps the Tuesday before he died on Saturday of ALS.  People that I might not see often but that I still feel a closeness, a brotherhood if you will.

But sports are changing. NIL money. The portal. The money seems to be driving everything.  The best team money can buy.

Yeah, that’s the college game right now, but it’s just a matter of time until it hits the high schools (and yes, I do know that some high school athletes get NIL money).

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m not against college players getting paid something. I can remember one of my son’s teammates at Clemson. We saw him coming out of a store empty handed once and asked him if everything was OK.  He said he was just inside paying on the lay-away on a computer.

I remember lay-away. That was what you did when you wanted to buy something but didn’t have enough to pay for it. You would pay a bit at a time until you had paid enough in that they let you take it home.

Nick had it better than most. I always made sure he had spending money. Many of his teammates didn’t have that kind of support system. They couldn’t afford to go out to eat with their buddies.

So yes, pay them.

But millions?  And the opportunity to leave a school at any time and transfer to the highest bidder? It’s gonna kill the game as we know it. 

And one of the things that is suffering?  The team. When TV announcers need a scoresheet to list all the places somebody has played, it’s sad to me. No loyalty. No team. A sad day indeed.

I did a thing...

 

I have a confession to make. I did a thing recently that will draw criticism from some folks. I bought an e-bike. That’s a regular bicycle with an electric motor to help with the pedaling.

Now, bike purists might look down their noses at those on an e-bike. I’m sure I have some biking buddies that might think less of me because of that. I can live with that.

This particular e-bike is a mountain bike. Most of my biking these days is on a mountain bike. I still ride my road bike from time to time and a gravel bike trip across Rich Mountain is a Wednesday standard.

But now I own an e-bike.  That decision to buy an e-bike was based on several factors.

First, I’m getting older. 72, as a matter of fact. And the only person that I ride with that’s older than me is Ken Bell, who happens to be (and has always been) a beast on the bicycle. Any bicycle.

So, other than riding with Dr. Bell, I’m always chasing younger people.

The thing about mountain biking is that there is always climbing. Always. What goes down must first go up.  There are no exceptions to this rule. And these old legs don’t climb like they used to.

This bike won’t pedal for me—I still have to do my part—but it will help me do this longer and better. That’s a good thing. But here’s the problem—there are e-bikes out there that are basically electric motorcycles. If it has a throttle, it isn’t a bicycle anymore. And that’s what put me down the path for today’s column.

A friend just sent me a note complaining about all these types of vehicles on the Greenbelt.  It seems that he was nearly hit on several occasions, as he walked along what has to be one of the nicest features of our communities. Almost hit by cycles that you basically don’t have to pedal. Essentially electric motorcycles.

Then last weekend, my grandson and I had a kid on a mini-bike (remember those things) buzz by us on the Greenbelt near Alcoa High School. He passed us on the bridge and then we followed him as he took off up the path that follows along the creek.

That’s got to be illegal.  And it’s for sure dangerous for those using the Greenbelt for running, walking, and cycling. And I would estimate that half the people on bicycles on the Greenbelt weren’t wearing helmets.  That’s just not smart.

One of the more serious injuries that I know of was on the Greenbelt.  A seasoned rider, hit some loose dirt under a bridge, went down, and knocked himself unconscious.  Had he not been wearing a helmet, that injury might have killed him.

The e-bikes on the same trail are a different matter, although again, if it has a throttle and you don’t have to pedal much, it’s not a bicycle.  My wife reminds me often that even if the effort is minimal, at least people are getting out and doing something. 

That's true.  Even if it doesn't take much effort, it's better than sitting on the couch binging on TV.  There are benefits to green therapy--getting outside for whatever the reason.  

I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that I think they should be working harder but I would be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that I do the same thing. Sort of.

Anyway. Be safe out there. Don’t ruin the Greenbelt for the rest of us.

Cup of Joe: Stop and smell the roses?

 

I did something quite unusual this week. For me, anyway. I took the week off, without plans. No travels. No notes to write. Saturday thru Thursday without specific plans for anything.

Before I continue, let me state for the record that I love my home, my family, my work, my small farm, and the life I’ve built. Not bad for a country boy from Loudon whose only ambitions growing up were football and hauling hay.

And Boy Scouts. It was there that I started my leadership journey. It was there that I was first prompted to step out of my comfort zone. Boundary Waters canoe trips. Eagle Scout. Order of the Arrow.  All those helped shape the person I am today. 

But this week really forced me to slow down. Observe. Listen. Do all those things that my busy, hectic life doesn’t really allow.

Breakfast was the same. Every morning. Two eggs, half a piece of Benton’s bacon, a slice of sourdough bread that I made myself.

After that, I often retired to my basement art studio, where I painted. Yes, I paint. Often, during this time of year. Some call me an artist. I think of myself as a painter. I don’t create as much as I mimic. I love big splashes of color and am constantly on the lookout for things that others have created that I like.

Just like my blueberries, I give my paintings away. Never sell them. I grow my blueberries for the joy I get from…well…growing blueberries.  I paint for me—the stress relief is immense.

I found a way to exercise every day. It isn’t in me to miss.  I went mountain biking a couple of times. The stationary bike is there for bad weather. I hit a yoga class or two.

I ran into Meghan Cobble at one of those. She’s the wife of the new Maryville High Head Football Coach Kenny Cobble. That reminded me of how proud I am of Kenny, who is truly one of the best men I’ve known. I’m no longer on the sidelines of MHS football, that ship has sailed, but it still warms my heart to see a good man in a position to do even more good things.

I enjoyed my time with my wife. A whole week and nary a cross word. Oh, there was the one time when I though she was talking on the phone with our daughter and she was really talking to me. She came into the room and asked if I was “grumpy” because I didn’t answer. We later laughed about that one.

I cooked burnt ends according to the recipe provided by Sammy Sweetland. I took down the Christmas decorations. I cleaned up my asparagus beds. I started a really good book called Theo of Golden, recommended by my friend Patty Bell. Mundane tasks that I relished by week’s end. I reached out to a friend in Lanett, Alabama fighting cancer.  I hope to go see him soon.

And then I went back to work.  Yesterday.  Doing what I consider a privilege to do every day—help people overcome injury and deal with pain.   (And no, I’m not retiring.)                                                         

The bottom line is that nothing I did during this strange week was monumental. Maybe none of it was memorable. But as we enter this new year, maybe it’s not the epic trips, the awards and accomplishments that are important. Maybe it’s OK to slow down and appreciate the little things that make truly make a life. Happy New Year.

Thanks for the Memories

 

I was reminded recently by a former athlete how special youth sports teams can be.  He told me about some of those positive experiences and how they impacted the rest of his life.

It opened up the floodgates of memories for me.  Through the years, I coached a little bit of everything. Baseball, softball, soccer, football, basketball. If my kids were involved, I was helping in some way.

The first real soccer game I ever saw, I coached. I didn’t know much about it, but I learned. I only coached one year of t-ball baseball, with the late great Tommy Wilson, but I stayed on in the administrative side for little league baseball for several more years.

I coached softball until my daughter moved on. To this day, I stay in touch with many of those players, and always send birthday greetings to my favorite second-base player, Abbie Mitchell Rector.

I was stopped in a funeral receiving line by one of those not too long ago.  She remembers those days fondly. I hope they all do (although I think Summer Maciel Webb’s mom still holds it against me for the time I put some kind of goop in Summer’s hair).

Football was fun for me. I hope it was for the players on the team. I helped Ricky Maples with the Cubs and Bears until my son got too big for the Parks & Rec league. His first year, he played quarterback, but soon figured out that his future in football had his hand in the dirt (ask a football player).

Coach Maples and Nick even had a system of hand signals to call the plays from the sidelines. Formation, play, and snapcount…all transmitted through hand signals. Pretty cool for a 9 year old.

But basketball was where I spent most of my coaching years. In about 1990, I restarted the dormant Blount Stars program, originally created by coaching legends Charlie Finley and Tom Ware.

I coached both a boys team and a girls team.  I supplied the uniforms, recruited the coaches, and handled most of the logistics.  What I got in return was a lifetime of memories and relationships. 

But do I remember the games and all that?  Not so much.

What I remember are the road trips.  Going to downtown Memphis with the Bright family, looking at the sights that had changed so much since the 70’s when I lived there.

Loading up to head for an AAU basketball tournament somewhere.  Bill Hammon had this big red Suburban and I had my family van so we would load up the boys team and head somewhere for a tournament. Everyone had to ride in one of the two team vehicles.  Everyone roomed together, ate together, and hung out together.

We got stuck in Middlesboro, Kentucky one time by a snow storm. They cancelled the games but wouldn’t let us in the gym so we just hung out in the hotel until we could get home.

My assistant coaches for much of this time were Big Larry (Jones) and Little Larry (Sankey), the latter of which wasn’t really little at all.  We had a thing called “Prime Time Pine,” for those that didn’t follow the rules.

Yeah, we won some games along the way but that’s not what I remember. I remember the kids making friends, being kids, and playing together. I’d like to think that they became better adults because of those experiences.  I don’t think anybody became better adults because of the games we won or lost.

But maybe that’s just me.

Are you willing to pay the price?

 

Are you?  Are you willing to get up at 5 AM in order to get to the gym and get a workout in before anyone you know is even up?

When your friends are all going out, but you need to catch up on some things so that you can concentrate on taking care of the things that will help you succeed, will you go out or will you finish the needed tasks?

Are you willing to put in the effort?  When the going gets tough, are you going to push harder? Are you going to work harder than you ever have? Are you willing to follow a nutritional path that is better for you? Will you pass on that cheeseburger and fries, even though all those around you are not?

Are you willing to be coachable?  Will you listen?  Will you trust? Are you willing to go to bed early enough to get a good night’s sleep? Are you willing to tolerate the pain and suffering?  When it hurts, will you say “one more?”

Are you willing to let the team come first?  Will you ignore all those around you that are telling you that you are the best ever, and simply go out and prove that you’re the best you?

I had the distinct pleasure recently of attending the retirement reception for Dawn Marsh.  Dr. Ken Bell and I decided to surprise her at the reception at Duluth High School in Duluth, Georgia.

If you have been around here for long, you should remember Dawn.  If not, you surely recognize the Marsh name, part of the winning legacy at Alcoa High School.

Dawn was one of the best ever.  In high school, she led her basketball team to the state tournament.  As a Lady Vol, she led the 1987 team to Pat Summit’s first national championship.

She still holds several Lady Vol records, including most assists in a game (18), most assists in a season (243), and most assists in a career (755). In other words, she made everyone around her better. 

She just concluded a storied career at Duluth High School, where she was a teacher and a coach.  Along the way, she coached basketball, golf, and softball, winning a state championship in softball in 1999, finishing with a perfect 23-0 record.  She continues being a highly respected NCAA basketball official.

Dawn was the epitome of doing what it takes to win.  When she was in high school, her Uncle David Marsh (another legendary Marsh and high school state champion at Alcoa) was the boys’ basketball coach so she could get into the gym anytime she wanted to.

She spent her summers playing pickup games all across Maryville and Alcoa, becoming a playground legend along the way.  There is no doubt that she could have excelled in any sport available to her, but basketball seemed to be her destiny.

She could dribble, she could shoot, she could pass (obviously). Much to the dismay of Pat Flynn, her high school coach, and Pat Summitt, her behind-the-back, no-look passes were still a sight to behold.  Watching her play was downright fun. Despite that, she was every coach’s dream. She worked hard, never took a night off, never let anything get in the way of excelling on the basketball court.

So…if you want to be good, if you really do want to do what it takes to be successful, be like Dawn.