Just sayin'...it's Christmas

 Do you remember the little Maple tree behind my clinic? I’ve written about it several times. It’s the one that was planted when we built the Cherokee sports complex. It must be a dwarf Maple because it really hasn’t gotten very big. 

It sits beside where I park. I like to wax philosophically based on the condition of that tree. In spring, when it buds, I think about life renewed. In full leaf, it bursts with life. My favorite is the fall when it turns yellow. Brilliant, vibrant yellow.

Right now, my little tree has lost most of its leaves. There are a few dull yellow leaves on the bottom but it’s mostly bare. Winter is arriving.

I told you about the passing of my friend Rat last week and it would be easy for me to muse on the winter of our lives. The week before that I told you about my last MHS football game so it might be easy for me to get all melancholy on you.

But that’s not me. I love life. I love what I do. My 67 year old self spent an afternoon this week bombing down mountain bike trails with a 70 year old friend and I defy anyone to guess our ages by how we ride.

On Monday, I celebrated 43 years working as a physical therapist. It’s still the best gig in town. And despite rumors to the contrary, I’m not retiring. Not yet, anyway. One day. Maybe.

At the end of the day, when I go home and my wife greets me with “Joesie!” my life is complete. And when a grandchild does the same or use my other grandfather moniker Daddy Joe…well, it doesn’t get any better than that.

So in the spirit of reflection and meditations on life, here are my Christmas words for you. Not advice. Not wishes. Just my thoughts.

Live the life you love. Don’t work just to pay the bills and get to the day when you can finally retire. Things don’t matter. Yes, money matters when you don’t have enough but I can honestly say I’ve never worked for money.

If you play a sport, put everything that you’ve got into it. Don’t let anyone outwork you. If you’re not passionate about it, find something else. It can be one of the most rewarding things you’ll ever do with life lessons that can permeate everything you ever do.

When I played, I was a pretty good football player. Later, I played a lot of basketball and I got pretty good at that too. I’m pretty decent on the bicycle these days. But don’t mistake me for a good athlete. I’m not. I was not. I’ve never been.

By working hard, being persistent as all get out, and never quitting, I became good at those things. Anybody can do the same. I’m absolute proof of that. And I did learn those life lessons from sports that have served me well for a very long time.

In school, never accept anything but your absolute best. My only distinction in high school was that I was the smartest football player. Academics meant little to me. Yet, along the way, I discovered that I was smarter than they had told me that I was. After that, the sky was the limit.

Seek out people that support you and support your dreams. I was told “you can’t do that” so many times that eventually I just removed it from my lexicon. If you’re around positive people, you can’t help but be positive yourself. Same thing about negative people. It’s hard to be happy around Eeyore.

Wake up every morning and take assessment of all the good things in your life. Think about all the opportunities for changing your world and then go take advantage of them. If you’re looking for them, they’ll be there.

Live happy. Live full. Live blessed.

RIP Rat

His name was Rat. I did a column years ago about him and I had to call and ask him what his given name was. He told me George Long but that no one knew him by that. I don’t know when he became Rat, but I’ve never known him as anything else.

He died last weekend from Covid. Let me tell you about my friend Rat. He would do anything for anybody. He loved people and he loved life. His smile was contagious. And he loved riding bicycles.

I first met him maybe 20 years ago while riding in the Tour de Blount. I saw this biker sitting under a tree next to the parking lot of Cedar Grove Baptist Church on Nails Creek Road. For some reason, I will always remember the spot where I first met the Rat.

He appeared to be having some difficulty so I pulled in to check on him. He had just started biking and had succumbed to heat and humidity. The Tour de Blount was his first big ride and he was struggling a bit. He was OK, just needing a break and some fluids, so I went on my way.

Over the next few years, we became great friends because of our common love of bicycling and (more importantly) of bicyclists.  We spent many hours biking together, climbing The Wall on Montvale Road many times and covering thousands of miles around rural Blount County.

And we rode year round. On one particularly cold winter morning, I remember Rat and I checking out the icy slush in our water bottles. As he got older, Rat dropped out of our regular Saturday rides and then switched to a bit slower group on the weekly Cycology rides. A wonderful friend named Jackie Taylor took Rat under her wing about that time and made sure he was safe.

Once there was a local guy whose bicycle, his only means of transportation, was destroyed in a collision with a car. Rat bought him a new bike. When he heard of a kid in East Knox County that needed a bike, a kid none of us knew, Rat bought him a bike.

When I admired the bike rack in the back of his truck, he found my truck parked at Coulter’s Bridge, measured the truck bed, and the next thing I know I’ve got a new bike rack in the back of my truck. When I traded trucks, he built another to fit the larger bed. When there was a fundraiser, Rat was there with a checkbook. He would literally give you the shirt off his back.

For his 80^th birthday, there was a large group of riders that met and rode from the bike shop to Elkmont where his family had prepared a party for all. Rat, Jackie, and a few others rode from Townsend to Elkmont, a respectable distance for anybody. But remember, Rat was 80.

He was incredibly fit for a man of 80 and although he had a few health problems, he was definitely a tough bird. But this Covid thing doesn’t pay any attention to all that. It strikes indiscriminately and sometimes viciously.

For those of you that think that this Covid virus was going to take only those that were weak and frail, shame on you. For those of you that think that Covid isn’t really more dangerous than the flu, how dumb can you be?

It took my healthy friend before his time. It snuffed a life that knew only love and giving. It killed a truly good man.

Wear that mask. Wash your hands. Keep your distance. Don’t deny the possibilities if you feel sick. Protect others. People like Rat don’t need your virus.

Rest in Peace Rat.

My Last MHS Football Game

In a perfect world, I would be celebrating another MHS football state championship this morning. Alas, we ran into a buzzsaw in the semifinals and the season came to a sudden end.

Still, it was a great season and I’m honored to have served this team as their athletic trainer and sports physical therapist. I’m especially proud of this group of young men. If you had told me when this senior class was freshmen that they would lead us to the success we’ve had this year, I would have doubted you.

But if I’ve learned anything from MHS football through the years, I’ve learned to never underestimate them. In 2000, we started the season 0-4. There was talk of a moving van showing up at Coach Quarles’ house. We won the next 11 in a row including the state championship game.

In 2001, we replaced 16 starters from the year before. Rebuilding year? Nah. Another state championship. This year, we replaced 17 starters. Reloading? Obviously!

I’ve now been a part of the MHS football program for 39 seasons. My first game was in 1982 when Dr. Bob Haralson asked me to cover for him. Here’s what I remember from that game--Maryville’s best player came to me during halftime saying that he had hurt his jaw.

I examined him and decided that he had actually broken his jaw. Obviously, that’s not an injury that you can play through. When I told him that, he said that he had played the first half with it so he was OK to play the second half. It seems that he had been punched at school that day, breaking his jaw on both sides. He hadn’t told anybody about it.

But here’s what I remember most…MHS Head Football Coach Don Story looked at me, a complete stranger at that time, and asked if he should play. I said no. Coach Story turned to the player (remember, he had played the first half with a broken jaw) and said “go put your clothes on.” The fact that Coach Story trusted me and supported my decision made a lasting impression on me. To this day, he is one of my heroes.

Through the 80’s, I didn’t just cover Maryville—I covered all our local schools. Most days during football season, I would leave my office, head first to Heritage, then to Alcoa, drop by Maryville, and finish at William Blount. If Coach Bill Satterfield at Greenback had somebody for me to check, I would head that way. Sharon Wood of Maryville College would help out on Friday night but I would usually end up at the biggest game, especially if it was between two county teams.

In the early 90’s, we began adding Athletic Trainers and eventually got to where we had an Athletic Trainer at each school. Tracy Martin at William Blount. Terry Byrd at Heritage. Peggy Bratt at Alcoa. That’s when I was able to focus on just Maryville High.

By the time my son was playing, I was covering only sports at Maryville. It was a great pleasure being on the sidelines with my son in 1997 and 1998 when they competed and then won the first of the current string of state championships.

I’ve been a part of a lot of incredible teams and memorable games but it’s over. The semifinal game was my last game on the sidelines of MHS. Athletic Trainers David Ivens and Amanda Cagle are now in charge.

It’s time. Football takes such a huge amount of time. My wife has put up with this for 40 years and she and my grandchildren deserve more of my time.

Thank you for all the coaches that have made me a part of the staff. Thank you to all the players that have been a part of my life for so long. Thank you to all the student trainers that have kept me young. A huge thank you to the parents of my athletes that have trusted me to take care of their kids. The greatest compliment I’ve ever received may be the oft repeated comment that “I feel better knowing that you are there for my child.”

Oh, and by the way, I’m not going away completely. I’m not retiring, I’m just giving up MHS football—you can still find me every day at Total-Rehab at Cherokee seeing patients and doing what I do. And if you need me, I’m easy to find.