Life is Good

It is the tendency of most columnists to reflect on the past as the year comes to a close.  I want to do that but in a little different way. 

I want to look at 10 years backward and then 10 years down the road.  It was an article in Smithsonian the magazine that prompted this approach.  In it, the author looked at the age at which you become the person that you are finally going to be.

I guess part of it is that I've never really wanted to stop growing and changing (and improving) so I eagerly await the person I am to become.  It's not that I don't want to get old, it's just that I like the process.  I guess that's why I went back at 55 to get still another college degree, a doctorate in physical therapy.

Anyway, 10 years ago I was 50.  I was CEO of Appalachian Therapy Center and enjoyed going to work. 

Maryville High School's football team had just lost in the semi-finals to Morristown West in a messy, wet game that had been postponed to a Saturday night.  I remember this huge defensive end at Mo West that seemed destined for greatness and a Rebels team that simply ran out of time.

My son was not yet married to my favorite daughter-in-law and had just finished his football at Clemson University with a career ending injury while playing in a game at Florida State.  It was a great ride. 

Our daughter was (is) married to a wonderful young man but those grandbabies had not yet started coming around.  Let me say that being the parent of adult children was (is) absolutely wonderful. 

In 2003, I had been married for 26 years to the same wonderful lady.  I was riding my road bike a lot and had made the decision to ride year-round.   I still had a mountain bike and some great excursions with some buddies on that bike were coming in the next few years. 

Life was good.

10 years from now, I'll be 70.  

My partners and I sold Appalachian Therapy Center to Blount Memorial Hospital and the merged clinics became Total Rehab.   Then they give me the job doing what I had been doing for years:  running several outpatient clinics, seeing patients, covering high school sports, and writing this column.  I always said I would retire when it quit being fun.  It still is so there's a chance  I'll probably still be doing it all then.

MHS will have appeared in its 20th straight state championship game and they will name the 6A championship trophy after George Quarles, since he will have coached in every single 6A state championship game ever played.

We will have had our 7th grandchild and I think that might be it.  The oldest will be a senior in high school.  I'm predicting that volleyball will be her sport, just like her mom.  I will have enjoyed watching every game the grandchildren play and will never have yelled at a coach or referee.

I will be painting more but still giving them away.  I'll still be known around town as the guy that writes the column in the newspaper. 

I'll still be on the road bike but my mountain bike days will be limited to gentle days on velvety smooth singletrack.   Oh, and there might have been a brief hiatus in my biking while I got that bum right knee replaced.

I will have been married 46 years to that same wonderful lady.

And life will still be good.

Good Sportsmanship Starts at Home

I think that coaches around here do a really great job with making sure that their players "behave" themselves.  Oh sure, I see on-the-field incidents that make you cringe and question the athlete's character, but we just seem to blessed with very little of that in our own kids.

We know we're blessed around here.  I know it when I watch Shawn Prevo score a touchdown and immediately look for a referee to hand the football to.  I know it when Jaquez Tyson scores still another touchdown and acts as though he's been there before (he has...lots).

I do remember one incident this year that happened less than ten feet from me when a player from the opposing team jumped into a pile of players, leading with his fist.  His intent was clearly to hurt someone.  The game, for all practical purposes, was over and since it was a playoff game, the season for this young man was also about to be over.

To their credit, the officials saw it, flagged it, and had a chat with the young man who seemed neither contrite nor apologetic (remember, I was but a few feet away). 

I can only speculate as to what kind of background this young man came from. Building character starts early and never stops.   I've said it before and I'll say it again:  I don't see many really "bad" kids but I do see too many "bad" parents.

Parents, look at yourself in the mirror.   What is there about yourself that you want your kids to copy?  What traits would you prefer they avoid?  I've said here before that raising kids is a lot like God shaping clouds.  Done gently and with purpose.

Here lately, it seems like a lot of the incidents involve fans. To use a sometimes forgotten term, it's plain and simple poor sportsmanship.   I've never liked boo-ing (I don't even like cheering when a player on the other team makes a mistake) but maybe that's just me.  I do know that behavior at times goes beyond poor taste.

I can remember a couple of years ago at a not-to-be-mentioned Knoxville school when the student body for that school showed up early and camped out in the bleachers immediately behind the visitor's (my team's) bench.  Those students proceeded to scream incessantly, making it at least unpleasant.   The coach finally started holding timeout discussions in the middle of the court in order to be heard.

Taunting other players--calling them by name and picking on some identifying characteristic--I don't much care for that either.  I believe every red-headed basketball player at one time or another has been called "Opie."

Heaven forbid that you ever have to be the one throwing the ball in during a basketball game while standing in front of the other team's student section. 

Most of the time, I can forgive stuff like this if it is teenagers but when adults do it, it is just unacceptable.  

Like I said, this all takes it beyond school spirit into a whole new arena of poor sportsmanship.

Twas a cold and blustery night

It was easily the worst conditions I've ever seen a game Driving rain.    Temps hovering just above freezing.  Strong winds. 

I'm talking about the Alcoa football championship game.  Man, it was cold.  Twice, we had lightning delays.

Let me back up a minute.  I had the privilege of assisting my colleague and Alcoa High Head Athletic Trainer Peggy Bratt during that memorable game.  She returned the favor when she joined me on the sidelines of Maryville High's game the next day.

While not nearly so wet, it was just as cold.   Still, nothing met the miserable conditions found on Friday evening when Alcoa took the field. 

At times on Friday, our primary concern was hypothermia.  Really.  The players on the field did OK, since they were generating some body heat while playing.   The biggest problem they had was their hands.  It seems like nothing we could do would keep their hands warm.

The players on the sidelines, soaked to the bone by halftime, could only stand there and suffer.  I stood with Alcoa Athletic Director Josh Stephens and one of us muttered "this is miserable" every few minutes.   And it was.

Yet, as the game wound down and the rain came harder, the joy of a state championship seemed to overcome all the discomfort.   I don't recall being as miserable when the game was finally out of reach.  Such is the joy of victory.

So when I went back with my own team the next day, the somewhat colder but immeasurably drier conditions didn't seem so bad.   My only concession to a wind chill factor of about 22 was ear covering in the second half.  Layers are everything in cold weather.

And when the "mercy rule" went into effect, I don't remember being cold at all.  The culmination of almost 20 weeks of practice had paid off for these young men and their coaches.

I am often asked what the secret is to the success of these Twin Cities Titans (yeah, that's my answer to the search for a moniker).  Everybody has an opinion--mine is a little tilted by perspective.

Let me offer what I think both teams have.  Heart.  Great coaches.  Discipline.  Commitment. Execution.  Good athletes.  Tradition.  Expectations.  Work ethic.  A swagger, if you will.

When either Maryville or Alcoa take the field, opponents don't exactly tremble but they do have doubts.  And when Jaquez Tyson runs for 8 yards every time he touches the ball and there is nothing you can do about it or when John Garrett tosses a touchdown or runs for 20 yards just when you think you've got him...well it breaks your spirit if not your heart. 

Sure, the coaches approach the games a bit differently.  Alcoa will play with more emotion while Maryville will bring a surgical cunning to the game.  Both result in an intensity that nothing if not intimidating.

In his pre-game chapel before Maryville headed to Tennessee Tech's football stadium, Bubba Hooker said that the key to this team was faith, hope, and love.  

Faith in your teammates and coaches.  Hope that leads to ambition.  Love for each other that transcends sport but results in stellar performances.

Yeah, it's all that too.

Concussions and Sports

Probably the hottest topic in sports medicine today is concussions.   It's been featured on television shows from 60 Minutes to NFL Today.  I've half expected to hear about a feature on Ellen and The View (or maybe it has already--I would never know either way).

It's partly because of several high profile cases, mostly retired NFL players.   Junior Seau's suicide was widely attributed to concussions he suffered while playing football.  Jim McMahon, who led the Chicago Bears to the Super Bowl, is a sad sight, suffering from early-onset dementia that he blames on multiple concussions.

He and others are suing the NFL for what they claim was negligence by ignoring evidence of the long term effects.  But it wasn't until research performed at Boston University demonstrated that even minor blows to the head could produce symptoms of concussion that we began to understand the seriousness of those injuries.

Football seems to be the focus but no sport is immune from concussions.   Hockey is notorious for producing concussions.  Heading the soccer ball can produce concussion-like symptoms.  Any sport where there is a chance for a collision or a chance for a fall (which is just about everything), can produce a concussion.

What we didn't know even 10 years ago is that we should never take these injuries lightly.  And we don't.

High school athletes and those from Maryville College are monitored closely by athletic trainers and attended by team physicians. We are ever diligent in making sure that every one of those athletes is protected.

For example, during a football game, we will watch for collisions that might produce a concussion.   Instead of waiting for that player to come to us and complain of a headache or dizziness or other symptoms, we will seek them out to make sure they are OK.  Goodness knows we can't wait on them to come to us.  Some will.  Most won't. 

I find myself telling athletes all the time that they simply must be honest with me, that this is not something to ignore.

With little variation, when an athlete has a blow to the head, regardless of the origin, we consider it a concussion until proven differently.   If they have any symptoms at all (symptoms can include headache, dizziness, blurred vision, memory loss, and disorientation), then they are pulled from competition and evaluated more thoroughly.

If they lose consciousness, the game is over and they are getting an ambulance ride.

Once a diagnosis of concussion is established, they must have a medical evaluation before they can return to their sport.  That's not just good medical care, since earlier this year, it's state law.

Here in Blount County, we go several steps further.  After they have been given medical clearance, they must take and pass a test called an ImPACT Study.  The ImPACT Study evaluates their cognitive function, looking at variety of things like short term memory and the ability to process mental tasks.  For most of our athletes, they have taken the same test well before the season started so that we have a baseline of information to compare their performance to.

Then they are screened for things like balance and response to activity.   Then and only then are they considered for return to their sport. 

I'm thankful for...

Through the years in this space(28 and counting, by the way), I've written Thanksgiving columns on several occasions. Still, it seems a while since the last one.

So, being Thanksgiving week--it seems like it should get a full week, or at least my wife needs a week (or more) to prepare, execute, then recover--I'm going to share some things I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful for being able to practice football on Thanksgiving Day.   It's become almost a tradition at Maryville High School, although I don't think anybody takes it for granted.  14 straight years of Thanksgiving Day practice.

For the kids, it is always a new team, with new seniors and new starters, so it remains new and fresh to them.  For the coaches, it just simply doesn't get old because it is why they do what they do.   Or at least a big part of it.

Let me tell you why it is such a wonderful day to practice football.   It means we're still playing, with the semi-final game the next day.  It means that we are one game away from the state championship game.  It means that we get to sit together as staff and players and share breakfast and memories and maybe remind each other what we're truly thankful for.

You see, after spending 18+ weeks (over 4 months) together, you develop a bond...a brotherhood, if you will.  For the staff, it's another year of a friendship that transcends football. 

And, much to my wife's dismay, it means that I miss out on a lot of Thanksgiving honey-do's.   I get up early, head in to football practice, and return home just in time to join the festivities already in progress.

Yep, pretty good day in my book.

I'm thankful for all those grandbabies around these days.  My oh my, it is wonderful.  When the 2 year-old runs screaming "Daddy Joe" when I show up at her house, well it doesn't get any better than that.

It sounds hokey or at least a cliché, but I'm thankful for being able to live in Blount County, a place that just can't be beat.  Part of that is the geography but mostly it's the people.   This is a truly great community of folks that make it so.

I'm thankful for good health and hope that I never take it for granted.  I sometimes think that I can do anything because of all the time I spend on the bike but I thankfully have a good doctor to take care of me and keep me straight (although he might not always take his own medicine).

I'm thankful for the good restaurants we have around here.  Everything from Dancing Bear(after they build it back better than ever) and Foothills Milling to Full Service BBQ and the Bread of Heaven truck.  Goodness knows I like to eat (it's part of the reason I exercise 7 days a week).

I'm thankful for Benton's bacon, Cruz Farm milk, grass-fed beef, free-range chicken, Whitt's baked wings, and Haagen-Dazs Sea Salt Caramel gelato (Oh. My. Goodness....You've got to try that one).  

I'm thankful for green grass, fall leaves, the Smoky Mountains, and amber waves of grain.  I'm thankful for smooth roads, trustful friends, rolling hills, a tolerant spouse, and a good bike shop.

I'm thankful for a good education, parents that did it right, and children who still let me be a big part of their lives.

The "Perfect" Exercise Program

I was asked this week to describe the "perfect" exercise program.  Not one to shy away from the tough questions, I have to admit that one may be impossible to answer.  But it did make me think. 

I had somebody else come by and talk to me about walking, claiming that walking was the "perfect" exercise.  I don't know about that.  Walking is good but it might not always be enough.

I know without a doubt that the perfect exercise program is different for everybody.   I also know that everybody should do something.  There just isn't much excuse not to. 

The view from my "desk" (which is really just a countertop that separates the rehab clinic at Cherokee from the fitness center at Cherokee) is this:  to the left is the cardio area with treadmills, elliptical machines, and stationary bikes with the obligatory bank of television sets.  Straight ahead are benches and rowing machines.  To the right is the turf where we take athletes to work on skills in preparation for return to their sport and where most of the CrossFit classes are held. 

Just beyond that is the sprint track, where we work on running form and agility drills.  Turn to the right and you see a bunch of machines of different flavors, the squat racks, and lots of dumbbells and free weights.  Literally inches away are two of those benches made for doing sit-ups and "good mornings."

So obviously, I've got a lot of tools at my disposal in the pursuit of fitness.  But there is more...so much more around here.

Behind Cherokee is the Maryville Little League Park, which makes for a nice area to walk.  On the other side of Field #4 are 124 brutal stairs that lead up to Blount Memorial Hospital.  Those are a favorite of those that favor that kind of pain.

We're not even that far from the Greenway Trail that goes from Pearson Springs to Alcoa's Springbrook Park with side trails into several communities along the way.  With the latest addition across the new Alcoa pedestrian bridge into Culton Creek area, the total mileage is 21 miles.

We may have more fitness centers per capita than any place in America and although I have a bit of a vested interest in a couple of them, I do hope they are all full of people pursuing good health. 

About a third of our county actually lies within the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, with trails galore.  Literally our back door.

A short drive gets you to Tellico Lake.   Have you ever been on the trails that border the lake with several entry points, most of them off of East Coast Tellico Parkway?  Blount County should have annexed Greenback and everything between here and Tellico Lake and if we had done so, over half of our county's border would be a lake.   Even without that annexation, a full quarter of our northern border is Fort Loudoun Lake. 

A canoe trip out of Ish Creek last week reminded me of what a great resource that lake can be.  I've yet to paddleboard on it but I can see that in my future.  Then there's Little River, which opens up a whole new world of possibilities.

And don't get me started (you don't have to) on what incredible roads we have around here for bicycles.

There are just too many options not to do something.  Walk, hike, bike, swim, lift weights, play tennis, run, row, paddle, climb those 124 stairs...whatever. 

And at the end of all this I've decided simply that the "perfect"  exercise program is the one you will do.

Biking at 107

Let's be honest here:   People who exercise regularly are really trying to do one thing--stay young and/or live longer (same thing, really).

Oh, there's a certain part of the population that just wants to look better and spends their gym time looking in a mirror but the way I've always looked at that is that I really don't see much benefit to being a good looking corpse.   Dead is dead and I want to live a long life and be healthy toward the end.  So my exercise program is more focused on being healthy and fit.

As Kenny Chesney says, "I want to go to heaven, just not today."   I want to be like that 107 year old guy on the White House steps yesterday only I want to ride my bike to get to DC for the ceremony. 

It really all started when my dad had his first heart attack when I was 5 years old.   I decided then that I wanted to be like my dad in many ways but that wasn't one of them.   Because of that, I have never really been "out of shape."  Never.  

Sometimes better shape than others but that was only when life got in the way.   A very long time ago, I built exercise and fitness into my lifestyle and have barely waivered since.  

I've often talked about the "how to's."  Today, I want to talk about the "why's."

Exercise so that when you get out of bed in the morning, it doesn't take half an hour to get to the bathroom.  Exercise so that you are less likely to fall as you get older.  That one is huge.  If you're old and you fall, you break stuff.

Exercise so that your weight stays in control.  We know that there a lot of health problems that result from obesity.   Avoid obesity, avoid lots of health problems.

Exercise so that you can enjoy play and tolerate work a whole lot better.   One of the concepts that is extremely difficult to teach is that someone that does manual labor all day still needs to exercise.

I would suggest that it is probably more important that the person whose job is quite physical get regular exercise than it is for most people.   Their job has them do the same thing so they end up strong in only those things that they do on the job.   That creates muscle imbalances that result in injuries.   Trust me...my clinic is full of those people.

If your job is sedentary, you need to exercise.  That one should be more obvious.

I've often said that it is more important for the 40-something to exercise than it is for the 20-something to exercise.   One of the things that comes with aging is a loss of strength.  Exercise helps combat that.

All this becomes much like the oil commercial--pay me now or pay me later.   Either stay fit now or pay the price later.

I've got one fellow who came to me at 89.  His family was telling him that he needed to slow down, that maybe it was time not to do all the things that he does (he leads a VERY active life).   I asked him what he wanted to do and he didn't want to slow down, he wanted to do more.  And continue to do more.

I recommended CrossFit workouts to augment his regular bicycle rides.   Something else might get him but I'm betting that in 10 years he's still doing what he wants to do.

I'm 60 and I understand my limits (most of the time) but I see no reason to hit the easy chair.  There's too much fun stuff out there for that.

Like I said, I want to bike from here to Washington at 107.  And if not, I'll die trying.

Don't Take It For Granted

Right after Maryville's regular season finale, a 48-7 win that clinched the District Championship and concluded a perfect 10-0 season, I caught myself reflecting on the good fortune that we have had.  

How many teams get to win championships?  And do it year after year?   Offensive Line Coach David Ellis and I, the senior citizens on the MHS football staff, often reflect that doing this stuff never gets old.   We repeat this mantra with each trip to the state championship game.

It doesn't even get old practicing through November, when the weather turns decidedly worse.  It never gets old doing what we love to do.  It never gets old practicing on Thanksgiving morning and having breakfast as a team--if nothing else, it means we've made it as far as the semifinals.

It never gets old heading to Cookeville or Murfreesboro or wherever the state championship game happens to be.  And I hope we never take it for granted.  

So the next day, after a long day of power washing, when the joints were aching and the fatigue was significant, I found myself in a nice warm shower and the question hit me (and this is where this whole thing might seem tangential but really isn't), what things do we take for granted.

Like the warm water coming out of the shower.  It felt great.  But what if the hot water heater wasn't working or the water pressure wouldn't provide but a trickle?   The reliability of the water heater is something that we take for granted.  At my house, we depend on South Blount Utilities to make sure there is adequate water pressure and the water is clean.  But do we stop to think that there are people whose  job it is to make it so?

Or what about the people around the world for whom a hot shower is not even an option.  I tried to look up how many people in the world go without warm water but all I got was that a billion people don't have access to clean water so you can assume that they don't have warm water for showers either. 

What else do we take for granted?

Sometimes it's the little stuff.  We take it for granted that the alarm clock will go off when it supposed to and we won't miss the important appointment on our morning schedule.  Or it doesn't go off and we're late for work and that creates a whole bunch of problems.

But we forget the big stuff too.  We take it for granted that the streets are safe--that law enforcement is doing their job and that most of us never encounter criminals or criminal acts. 

We take it for granted that the food we are served in a restaurant is fresh and clean and never think about the government entity whose job it is to make sure that is so. We never stop to think about the fact that bridges and cars and appliances are safe. We depend on others to do that.   Our nation's system of checks and balances (including our judicial system) help provide those guarantees. 

We take our health for granted until we don't have it.  We take it for granted that we will wake up tomorrow morning to a new day. 

My prayer for today:  May I never forget my many blessings and never take for granted those many minor miracles that make life better and easier.   And thank you for the sweet taste of victory.

"Successful" Adults

Some saw last week's column as a chastisement of overbearing parents.  Others saw it as simply the glories of being a grandparent.

I guess it's a good thing that people see things differently.  I can tell you that column started with the simple concept that all children deserve to feel like they are special.  

And they do.   The worst player on the team deserves to feel special.  The kid from a dysfunctional family needs the time when they feel special.

Sports are where a lot of them get that.  And it's not about winning games.  It's bigger than that. 

One thing I don't care for is giving everyone a trophy--I think that is a mistake.  But I am most definitely in favor of every kid out there having someone to cheer them on--supporting them, encouraging them, and loving them. 

This week a fellow that I remember as an excellent baseball player but who may not have been the best student asked me what I thought was the secret to raising kids.  He had read that column too.

Without personalizing this one (which I am too prone to do), let me just simply give you my opinion, which was the answer I gave this guy.

Before I do that, let me qualify all this by saying that there is definitely more than one way to "raise" kids.   There are many different and good parenting styles.  

I've seen kids that grow up with parents that have unreal expectations end up taking a different path than that which their parents outlined for them but ended up as very successful adults.

And when I speak of "successful adults," I'm talking about well-rounded, happy, adults that contribute responsibly to society, culture, and the environment.  That are good neighbors and, when blessed, good parents. 

Not rich.  Not even admired, for admiration sometimes betrays the true self.

I've said many times that I don't see many bad kids but I've seen lots of bad parents The result of that too often is that the kids don't have a chance. 

I've also seen bad parents produce good kids.   You might ask yourself what qualifies me to make that judgments.   I've been around kids and sports for most of my 60 years.  It's part of my job.  And I've seen enough bad parents to know one when I see one.

Like the dad that really precipitated the last column.  As his daughter dribbled the soccer down the field, he ran along the sidelines exhorting her to "run faster, run faster." But when she narrowly missed the goal with her kick (it was a really great kick, by the way) you would have thought she had missed the kick that would have won the World's Cup for her team.   His pain/disgust was way more than noticeable.

So, what does it take to be the Good Parent?

You've got to be there for them.  Win or lose.   When they do good or when they do poorly.  You don't make excuses but you do keep it in perspective.

Read to them when they can't and then listen to them, not just when they read.  Do stuff with them.  Give them opportunities.  Give them guidelines and a foundation of trust and goodness. 

Shape them only as God might fluff clouds.

It's All About the Child

The late, great Jim Dykes once told me "I like your column but you need to get off that (expletive deleted) bike fetish."  In other words, I write about the bicycle a little too often.

So every time I start to tell you more about the bicycle or how wonderful it is to ride around here, I stop and ask myself if I'm violating Mr. Dykes revered admonition.   Sometimes, if the story is too good not to be told, I forge ahead anyway.  But generally, I stop and write about something else.

Jim Dykes, if you don't remember, was a long-time newspaperman in these parts.  His column in the old Knoxville Journal was one of the funniest and smartest tomes you will find.  His compliment (I took it as such) was maybe the greatest day in my life as a columnist.

If you've been reading, you know that I'm now a grandad.  Six times over, even.   7, 6, 4, 3, 2, and 7 months.  We are blessed that all six live in Blount County.   I can't imagine what it would be like for them to be half way across the country or, like my buddy Steve, half a world away. 

I've heard many a grandparent confess that if they knew that grandchildren were going to be this good, they would have skipped kids and gone straight to grandkids. It really is that good.  However, I really enjoyed my own children too much to say that but my wife-oh my goodness-she loves those babies.  Heaven is an infant in her arms.

In the next few years you might get tired of hearing about my grandkids, just like Jim Dykes was tired of reading about my bicycle.   Maybe Rhetta Grimsley-Johnson (my other favorite columnist) will be the one to tell me to back off on grandkid stories.

But as with everything I write, there is always a message.  Self-proclaimed as "preachy," I do always try and be a teacher (my first profession) here.  

Anyway, while attending soccer games for the three oldest last Saturday, watching my kids and all the others out there, I found myself stepping back and looking at things differently.   I mentioned that a couple of weeks ago.

There seemed to be as many grandparents out there as there were parents.   I can tell you that the grandparents were generally better behaved than the parents (did I really yell at the referees back then?) but then and now, the kids just wanted to play.  

At 7,6, and 4, they really didn't care what the score was at the end of the game.  I'm pretty sure no athletic careers were being etched in stone out there on a blustery morning on Everett Hill but you might have thought otherwise had you been there.

What I saw out there were kids running around and having fun.   Some took it more seriously than others and sure, some were better than others.   But each of them "needed" to be out there, sometimes for very different reasons.

 And what I came to realize most clearly was that every child deserves to feel special.  Mine, yours, every single one of them.  Because they are. 

So when I'm faced with the decision of riding bicycles on these glorious roads and trails we have around here with my buddies or watching grandkids play soccer, you're going to find me shivering on the sidelines.

All About the ACL

ACL.  It's an acronym, but most people don't know what it stands for.

Oh, they know what it means.  They know that it is in the knee.  They know that if it is torn that the season is over.  They know that it rarely means good news.

The Anterior Cruciate Ligament is in the middle of the knee and is easily the most important stabilizer of the knee.  In other words, it is essential to holding the knee together.  You might be able to do some things without a good ACL but not many.

It crosses from front to back, attaching the lower leg bone (tibia) to the upper (femur). 

There is a PCL, or Posterior Cruciate Ligament, but it very rarely gets injured and even when it does, a lot of people can function normally without it.

Too often, it seems, I have had to deliver the bad news that the ACL had been injured.  And trust me, EVERY athlete knows that means bad news.   It's the injury they fear the most.

Before I go on, let me offer a few statistics.   Females have a lot more ACL injuries than males.  At a ratio of maybe 8-1.  Most of that is anatomy but part of it is that a lot of female athletes avoid strength training either until they are older or just avoid it altogether.  Or go about it all wrong.

There are roughly 100,000 ACL ruptures per year in this country, with a significant portion of those being athletes.   The tear occurs most often with a twisting or deceleration injury.  About 70% of all ACL injuries do not involve contact.

Football gets blamed for a lot of the ACL injuries but there is no sport that is immune.  And not playing something is unacceptable.   That leads to a sedentary lifestyle and that simply isn't an option if your health is important to you.

But there is good news.   Because of advances in orthopedic surgical techniques and rehabilitation, you will be healthy again one day.   Not today, but sooner than you think.

I will often see someone that has had surgical repair to their ACL within a few days of that surgery.   Your first thought might be "that's too soon," but I assure you it is not.   We know that early intervention means good results.  It might hurt a bit to move that knee (again, not nearly as much as you think) but in the hands of a skilled physical therapist, that movement will not only be essential to the rehabilitation process but will also rapidly help you to feel much better.

Most ACL rehabilitation programs are "criteria-based," which means that they are largely driven by the progress of the patient.   Basically, that just recognizes that some people heal quicker than others.   Still, there often can be no substitute for time so there are certain principles that we must all follow that are based on evidence.

At various times in the past couple of decades, there has been an attempt to return athletes to competitive sports as quickly as possible.  We now know that practice can be a big mistake.   It is far better to allow adequate healing while at the same time restoring things like motion, strength, balance, and agility.  It's going to take at least 4-6 months and there is really nothing you can do to shorten the rehab.

One of the most gratifying things that can happen in my profession is to be there when a young athlete gets back to their sport, especially that point when they realize that their knee is normal again.   If you were there when they first hurt that knee and can relate that heartbreak to the joy of return, it is especially sweet. 

George Quarles: Building Young Men

Friday night was Maryville High School's George Quarles 200th win as a head football coach.  Keep in mind that that writing about him is a great personal risk for me--he avoids the limelight like the plague and he could fire me tomorrow.  But I wrote about him once before and he didn't fire me so I'm going to take that risk once again.

After all, it isn't every day that somebody wins 200 high school football games.   In only 15 seasons as a head coach.  

Since becoming Head Coach in 1999, he has lost only 14 games.   Let's take away the three losses in his first year (1999) and the first four of 2000, when his team started the season 0-4 before reeling off 11 straight wins including his first state championship as a head coach.   That means that since the incredible run of championships really started, he is 190-7.  

Think about that.   In that stretch, 6 undefeated seasons.  Nine state championships, more than any coach in Tennessee high school history.  

I mean, goodness!  200 wins!   That's amazing.   He may have reached that landmark the fastest of any high school football coach in history. 

But let me tell you the best thing about him:  He builds character.  Sure, every coach everywhere talks about building character but Coach Quarles does it.   Every day.  

The next best thing about him (in my opinion) is that he builds work ethic.   Put those two together and he builds good young men.   The football thing just happens to go pretty well because of both of those things too.

I'm asked often what it is about Maryville that makes the football team so good year after year.  I don't know that I have any better answer than anybody else.   Dedication, buy-in, winning attitude, confidence, preparation, coaching...the list could be long. 

But it all starts with the humble man at the helm. 

Well today, I'm going to tell you the inside secret about George Quarles.  The one main thing that sets him apart from almost every coach that I've ever known.   Vision.   That's it.   He has it.

He can see everything.  Everything.   A lineman makes a wrong step? Coach Quarles has the best offensive line coach in the country in David Ellis and yet he still sees the field so completely, he can see that lineman and every other position on the field, including what the opponents are doing. 

It is uncanny, really.   That ability helps him to be...well...George Quarles.   And you and I can work and study and we can never have that "thing" that sets him apart. 

It has been my pleasure to walk the sideline with him for almost every one of those 200 wins and more hours together on the practice field than either of us would want to admit.   Thank you, Coach Quarles, for the opportunity.  And congratulations

Your Perspective Changes

Let me tell you a grandchild story.  Oh, not your usual grandchild story (I hope) about "look at what MY grandchild has done lately."  

I could go there:  I've got six of those creatures.  Grandchildren that is.  7, 6, 4, 3, 2, and 6 months.   Let me tell you about my grandchildren (no, not really).

The three oldest of those (7,6,4) are playing soccer through the soccer program at Parks & Rec.  7 & 6 had played last year but in Knoxville where they lived then.  

I hadn't been on the fields at old Everett High School in a long time, maybe since my son played first soccer and then football there.   They've done a good job of fixing it up--new concession stand, nice bleachers, good fields for play.

But it really hasn't changed that much.  Heck, it hasn't changed that much since 1968 when my high school football team played Everett High in football (Jackie Lefler threw a touchdown pass as time expired to win the game) or when my brother-in-law played in an epic playoff game against Maryville High on that same field in 1975. 

It is most definitely a memorable place, steeped in memories for a lot of people.

So here I was early on a Saturday morning, waiting the start of a game on fields where I had spent many hours.   The Black/Dee entourage was impressive:  Last Saturday we even added my 94 year old mother to the group.  When we lined up the folding chairs (you know the kind), we seemed to reach from end zone to end zone.   It was more like we invaded the place as we settled in to watch whichever child (7,6, or 4) play.

A buddy of mine with grandchildren of his own to watch beat me to the cliché-"it seems like just yesterday that we were here with our own kids."

The week before, we had watched the first game (7) in a driving rain.   4 was up next and he declared that he didn't really want to play in that rain so we left to go eat something.   6's game later that morning was cancelled so the Grandmother and I didn't have to make excuses for our absence.  We were with the 4--we didn't want to stand up out there in all that rain either. 

My goodness the 4 year old may have more sense than all of us anyway.

But last Saturday was gorgeous with sunshine and just enough cool to make it comfortable.   And everyone had the aforementioned folding chairs lined up field side for the spectacle to unfold.

Let me tell you about those kids.   I'm pretty sure 7 won't have a long career in soccer but she sure has fun out there.  Oh, she'll play something.  She's going to be tall and she's already athletic with parents wise enough to let her choose her own path. 

6 is a much better soccer player than we would have thought.   She stole the ball once, dribbled the length of the field and then a fired a shot that just missed the back post (but I wasn't going to go there, was I....)

4 probably won't play a lot of soccer either.   I see more individual sports in his future.  Maybe tennis or something where he doesn't have to hit someone else and for sure someone else doesn't get to hit him.

But the point of all this is that they are out there, moving, running, kicking, having fun.   Basic movement education.   I don't care if they become great soccer players or not.  I'm more interested in them learning how to move their bodies, developing athleticism and love for an active lifestyle.

Now THAT'S what it's all about!

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.