In My Lifetime

In my lifetime, there was a time when football helmets didn’t have facemasks. I can barely remember it but I know when I got my first football helmet, before I started playing youth football, it had a clear plastic facemask and was something of a novelty item.

Thank goodness everything about the game of football has gotten better. Equipment is better. Training is better.

I have seen concussions as something you shook off change to where we now know that they can be life threatening events with horrible consequences. I shudder at the thought of some of the advice we gave in my earliest professional days. But we’re better now.

In my lifetime, I have seen sports medicine go from hot tubs and analgesic balm to high technology and evidence-based practices. But we’re still taping ankles, pretty much the same way.

In my lifetime, I’ve seen backpacks go from bulky canvas to featherweight nylon. My first backpack was a Boy Scout issue with a wooden frame that I made myself. My current backpack, which isn’t the latest and greatest but good nonetheless, is aluminum and nylon and weighs nothing.

Same for my sleeping bag. I use a three-season bag that can be comfortable in winter with the addition of clothing and which can be used if it gets wet. If my first sleeping bag got wet, it was useless for days.

My boots are Gore-Tex and sturdy. I once hiked the portion of the Appalachian Trail inside the Smokies in canvas Converse All-Stars! And a friend started that trip (we were 12) with an iron skillet and a fishing rod.

And speaking of which, in my lifetime, I’ve seen basketball shoes going from those same canvas Converse All-Stars to Air Jordans and beyond.

I’ve seen rules changes in basketball where dunking was made illegal and then later it was embraced as part of the show. I’ve seen girls’ basketball go from a 3-on-3 half court game to a full court game. That half court game was a thing until I was in college. Hard to believe now.

Regular, five-on-five basketball was supposedly too strenuous for girls. How wrong we were!

In my lifetime, I’ve seen the polio epidemic.  It was scary but mostly because of the iron lungs that some children were forced to live their lives in.

I have had more of a chance to be scared this time. I was just a kid then but those iron lung things were the items of nightmares. Still, I’ve had friends and family members die of Covid-19. I’ve probably preached enough on that sermon so I’ll move on.

In my lifetime, I’ve seen Jim Crow America.  I can remember separate facilities for non-whites.  Separate bathrooms, separate water fountains, separate entrances to stores, separate seating sections at events.

Us kids were all thrilled when schools were integrated (I was in the seventh grade) because it meant that we got to go to school with our friends who happened to be a different skin color. And we got to play on the same sports teams.

Old people talk about the Good Ol’ Days. Were they? Certainly parts of life then were simpler, maybe easier. But I would never go back.

Look around. Embrace the world as it is today. Love one another. Take care of the environment. Take care of each other. This is the Best of Times. Have a Happy New Year. I’m sure you’re like me and ready to put 2020 behind you.

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.

COVID Fatigue

Along with a lot of other things, this pandemic has added words and phrases to our every day. I doubt many people understood “pandemic” until Covid. Now it’s “Covid Fatigue.”

In case you haven’t noticed, cases and deaths are blowing up right now.  I heard yesterday that there were more new cases this week than we had in the first three months of the pandemic. That would be March, April, and May when we really didn’t know what to think about this thing and it seemed to be everywhere.

I also heard that deaths are approaching a quarter of a million and that over a million children had contracted the disease. That’s unreal. Those that thought this thing was a hoax or a political maneuver have to admit now that they were wrong.

A healthy 54 year old Maryville native and a friend of mine is fighting for his life in the ICU of an Atlanta hospital. Because of Covid. Small towns that might have been somewhat protected by the isolation of their rural status are now being slammed.

From a sports perspective, There were six forfeits the first week of the football playoffs and four in the second round, including the McMinn County-Kingsport Dobyns-Bennett game which was halted as the teams were warming up for the game. That’s 10 teams that made the playoffs, a dream for many teams, yet couldn’t play.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen to basketball and wrestling. As one of those people tasked with taking care of the health of our young athletes, I find the task daunting if not downright scary.

Let me state for the record that I’m tired of wearing this mask. I’m tired of not seeing my family. I’m tired of not being able to go to restaurants. I’m tired of not shaking hands or hugging.

I’m tired of social distancing. I’m tired of washing my hands every few minutes every time I touch anything or anybody. I’ve never carried around hand sanitizer but now I’m never far from it.

I’m tired of worrying about being a carrier and giving it to one of my patients or someone on my football team but most of all to my wife or one of my grandchildren.

I’m tired of people arguing about personal liberties and government mandates. I’m tired of people getting sick. I’m especially tired of people dying.

Covid fatigue? Oh yeah. For sure. It’s real for me.

But you know what? I’m going to wear that dadgum mask. I’m going to bump elbows instead of shake hands. I’m going to step away several feet during every conversation. I’m going to sanitize my hands after every encounter with anything.

I’m going to continue to do takeout from restaurants and tip generously. I’m going to trust that those preparing the food are observing all those same precautions and if I suspect differently, I won’t be back.

I’m going to continue to travel in separate vehicles from my buddy to go mountain biking because he is even older than me and is concerned about exposure.

I will continue to see my patients and take care of my football players like they are my own child but I will keep my distance from them when I can. And I’m going to continue to keep after them to maintain social distancing and wear their masks. Even though they think I’m just a silly old man.

A vaccine just around the corner? Sure. Maybe. But I don’t think we can wait to do the right thing. All the time. Because I don’t want to get it and I don’t want you to either.

My Knee: A year later

It’s been almost a year since my knee replacement. To say that it has been an eventful year is clearly an understatement. Covid, elections, riots…the list is long and profound.

But the year for my knee has been all good. It doesn’t hurt. It works pretty darn well. I take no medicines for it. And I can run for short distances.

I wrote a couple of columns about the surgery and rehab. Dr. Justin Jones of OrthoTennessee-Maryville did the surgery on December 11^th of 2019. He had warned me that it was a painful surgery, given the severity of the degenerative changes. He was right.

I gave him a piece-of-garbage knee to work with but he did a great job. The surgery, which actually takes less than an hour, went about twice that for me.

To put the first few days in a nutshell, when they tell you to “stay ahead of the pain,” they know what they’re talking about. I thought I was pretty tough but that surgery knocked me down a notch or two.

Take your medicine. My surgery was on Wednesday and I took my last pain pill Sunday night. That’s probably about average and you’re not going to get hooked on anything in that short of time.

Rehab was started immediately--I was doing exercises in my hospital bed the night of the surgery. Getting full extension of your knee after surgery is hugely important and I was determined to do that.

Ice, controlling the swelling, and moving are all essential to good outcomes. I must have walked 10 miles around my living room in the first few days.

Under the direction of my colleague Candy Martin, PTA, I began formal rehab on the next Monday. I was scheduled to start on Friday but I wimped out. I know it is the business I’m in but the rehab is absolutely essential. You’ve got to put in the work to get a good knee.

I did lots of extra work. Such is the benefit of having a key to the door and knowing what I was doing. Daily rehab. Several hours on the weekends.

Six weeks later, I was back on the road bike. I did River Road (flat, safe) with my daughter, who insisted on going because, well, she wasn’t real sure I should be out there. She soon found out I was fine.

Nine weeks post-op, I ventured out on my mountain bike with my buddy and bike sensei Steve Bright. I wasn’t really sure of it myself. But when my bike slid down and I came down hard on that knee and nothing happened, I knew it would be fine.

I actually let out a little whoop, which worried Steve but it was a whoop of joy, not from pain. From that point on, I have not let up. A couple of months ago, I started taking Tuesdays off and most of those are spent mountain biking with my buddy Ken Bell.  We’ve been visiting different mountain bike areas and riding hard.

We’re really like a couple of kids out there—biking on sweet single track will do that for you. Just imagine the most fun you’ve had on a bicycle and that’s what a couple of hours at Bakers Preserve will do for you.

So, as I approach my one year anniversary, I have several things to be thankful for. I’m thankful for a good surgeon. I’m thankful for good physical therapy. I’m thankful for the technology that allows me to live life fully. I’m thankful for a new knee.

As I said not too long after that surgery, if you are postponing joint replacement surgery for whatever reason, consider going ahead and getting it done. If your knee or hip are holding you back from doing what you want to do, get them fixed. It’s not exactly easy but you won’t regret it.

 It’s getting colder outside, forcing people inside a bit more. I’ve got several thoughts on this.

First, adapt and head outside anyway. I think you’ll find it to be quite pleasant if you dress properly and move once you get out there.

Some people think (some know) that I’m pretty crazy for riding a bicycle through the winter. I’m here to tell you that it really isn’t that bad at all. This week, it was certainly colder but by dressing properly, bicycling was actually incredible this week.

Mountain biking at Dirty South in Knoxville on Tuesday, gravel bike on Wednesday, road bike on Thursday—all were absolutely wonderful. Sure, it’s a bit cold when you start but after you get warmed up, it was perfect.

I know that people see runners out there in shorts and maybe a long sleeve t-shirt with gloves and a toboggan and think that they must be insane. But by generating some body heat through exercise, I’m sure they are quite comfortable.

Same thing for hikers. Layers are the key. And take items in your backpack that will accommodate changes in weather.

Take the kids to the park. Once there and moving, they will be fine. If you just stand there and watch them, you might get cold but that’s what jackets and scarves are made for. Take the short hike up to the tower at Look Rock.

In colder weather, the air is cleaner and crisper. The trees losing their leaves just means that the views are even more vast and spectacular. There may not be a better time to head for the Smokies than in the middle of winter.

Second, it’s more important to follow Covid precautions as you spend more time indoors.

There is no doubt that more time inside and more people in closer quarters makes social distancing more difficult. We also know that colder weather brings on the cold and flu season.

Hospitals in colder climates are already seeing a huge upsurge in Covid cases. Denver hospitals are full. It just makes sense.

I’m not going to argue the whole mask thing. Science has told us that masks work and Common Sense tells me that the mask doesn’t have to be impervious to help. Any barrier will reduce the distance that the droplets will travel.

I know for sure that wearing a mask keeps my fingers out of my mouth. I had no idea how bad I was until I started wearing a mask.

Right now, it seems that fewer folks are wearing masks than did earlier in the summer. That’s disappointing. Masks are more important now than they were then.

I’ve bene at sporting events where masks were few and far between. I heard one complaint that a person wasn’t going back into such and such store because they enforced the mask rule. Uh folks, it’s the law. Don’t punish a business for trying to follow the law and protect your health.

And one last thing—stay in contact with older folks. The longer nights and colder weather also lead to seasonal stress disorder, depression, and a more sedentary lifestyle. Visits are probably still a bad idea.

Help them by encouraging them and by assisting them in being more active.