What is an athlete?

 

I live on a small farm where I grow a lot of things. Blueberries, blackberries, cherries, apples, pears. Tomatoes, peppers, squash, asparagus, cucumbers, pumpkins. I love it.

I have raised beds, trough beds, and open rows. I grow far more than my family can consume. Come blueberry picking time, I can put headphones on and pick until dark-thirty. It is a place of peace for me.

My son seems to have inherited that love of growing things. In a couple of small raised beds, he raises a bounty of vegetables and seems to have a green thumb.

I didn’t grow up on a farm, but I did grow up farming. We lived out in the “country” and from a very young age, I helped surrounding farmers with their hay. “Hauling hay” might even have been a career aspiration for me if there was an option there.

My dad always had a big garden—our family depended on it. We had cherry trees and strawberries and honey bees. From about 10 on, it was my responsibility to “rob” the bees of their honey and then sell it out our front door on Highway 11, a busy thoroughfare for those going south through Tennessee before the days of the interstates.

I’ve helped slaughter hogs, render lard, prep hams for curing, gathered eggs, built fence, and inoculated cattle.  (Actually, my job was to tackle them and hold them down for the real farmer to give them their shots and ear tags.)

Does that make me a farmer? I don’t know. Maybe. Does growing things make one a farmer? Do you have to gather and sell crops or raise stock to be a real farmer? I’m not sure. But I think so. And if someone wants to call me a farmer, I’ll be proud of it.

Just this week, I saw a 43 year old with some knee issues that wanted to know what to do about them. That’s not unusual—my day is filled with that sort of thing. But what made this one a little different is that he wanted help to make him a better basketball player.

Basketball isn’t a job for him, it’s just something he loves to do. And it sounds like he’s pretty good at it.

He almost apologized for being 43 and still playing, competing against people 20 years younger than himself. I assured him it was OK, as I had played until I was 59, and would still be playing if I had the knees for it.

Does that make him an athlete? Absolutely. You don’t have to be a teenager and on a team to be an athlete. You don’t have to get paid for playing a sport to be considered an athlete.

You don’t have to keep score, pursue a championship, or be in a league to be considered an athlete. All you have to do is to pursue a physical activity to be considered an athlete.

“Pursue a physical activity.” That’s my final answer. You jog the Greenbelt for your health? You’re an athlete. You’re 70 and ride a bicycle? You’re an athlete.

There are no age limits on who can be an athlete. Sure, our first exposure to the world of sports is on a team, maybe a T Ball team at the local little league park or the swim team at the country club, but that alone is not what makes someone an athlete.

An active lifestyle is an essential component to good health. And to pursue good health, you’ve got to exercise, eat healthy foods, and avoid sedentary activities.

And if you’re pursuing good health, whether it’s walking in the park of hiking to Mount LeConte, You’re an athlete. Plain and simple.

So, make no apologies for basketball at 43 or tennis at 50 or pickleball at 75. You’re an athlete and can chase whatever dream you want to, whether it is to dunk again, win at doubles, or enjoy a long rally.

You’re an athlete.

Growing Old with Grace

 

I had a nice chat with a couple the other day.  I’m not going to mention names because one of them might be a patient and, well, I wouldn’t want to run the risk of breaking any federal laws. 

But this is the absolute cutest couple ever!  They’ve been dating for about nine years (he said 8, she said 9—I’m going with what she said) and really don’t seem to have any intention of marrying.

They’re just spending their lives together. They do everything together.

I’m not going to pull a Paul Harvey and wait to the end to tell you “the rest of the story.” The story is this—he’s 92 and she will be 93 next month.

They’re healthy, happy, and have no problem sharing their lives together, and their story with me.

So I asked them, what their secret was. Like any long-term couple, their answers completed each other. One would offer something and the other would nod in agreement. One would think of something and the other would heartily agree.

They quickly agreed that you’ve got to keep moving.  Newton declared that “a body in motion tends to stay in motion—a body at rest tends to stay at rest.”

Sir Isaac was talking about physics but I believe that it pertains to the human experience as well. If we stay active, we will be active.  

They said that doing things together was a big part of it. I’ve been married 48 years and my wife will tell you that I don’t do “alone” well at all. She and I enjoy lots of things together. Hiking. Travel. Good restaurants. And of course, those blessed creatures that we share called grandchildren.

This couple also noted that simply being around people is important in staying young. I’ve spent a good part of my career around teenagers, particularly teenage athletes. I think I understand that creature pretty well.

I don’t always embrace their music but I can tolerate most of it (most of the time). I don’t always get their fashion trends but then I’m reminded that it was my generation that wore dickies and bangs. Our parents didn’t like our music either.

Going to church together is important to this couple. A church community can be a wonderful thing and I can tell you that some of the best friends we have today were from a Sunday School class we joined when we first moved to Maryville in 1977.

Although not gainfully employed, this couple in their 10^th decade of life still works. Housework.  Yard work. Helping others. Making a garden. Fixing whatever needs to be fixed.

You might not expect them to be spontaneous sorts of people, but they find that taking opportunities to just pick up and go is part of what keeps them young. 

So here’s the formula:  Keep moving, be around people, build a community, never stop, be spontaneous. Sounds like a good plan to me.

Reunions

I had a college reunion of sorts a couple of weeks ago.  A bunch of guys that lived in Reese Hall on UT’s campus in the early 70’s got together for a couple of days of food and fellowship.

You can do the math—that was roughly 50 years ago. Goodness gracious, I don’t even think that I should be 50 years old, much less 50 years from early college days.

It all started when one of my buddies lost his wife. Leesa was really one of the old Reese Hall gang, and everyone’s favorite. Unfortunately, she got Glioblastoma and died shortly after diagnosis, almost two years ago. At her funeral, a group of us decided a reunion was long overdue.

I’ve never been one much for reunions. High school reunions don’t interest me although I did join a small group of high school classmates last month for dinner back in my hometown. It was nice.

I guess part of it is that I’m not the same person I was back then. In high school, I was interested only in football and one girl. My best friend about as far back as I can remember was Ronnie McNabb and we’ve stayed close to this day.

In a culture that didn’t seem to favor higher education, I left and went off to college. And I guess I never looked back. I made friends with the most diverse bunch of people you can imagine.

Polish, Jewish, Irish, Californian, Yankee. Straight, gay, hippies, ROTC guys.  Long hair, short hair, every color imaginable. Worked for the first Pakistani I ever met. Wrestled with Freddie from Iraq. Met professors who didn’t care if you were there or not and professors that might call you if you missed class.

People from all around the globe. People with very different ideas about the world than I had, growing up in a tiny, rural town in East Tennessee.

Don’t get me wrong—I love where I grew up and loved the people. But I wouldn’t be the person I am today if I had never left.

We’ve got a lot of kids that are about to head out to college and careers, maybe the military. I would tell them all to not be afraid. Embrace the change. See the world. And keep an open mind about everything you encounter.

But keep what you picked up while you were here.

From your teachers, take the ability to learn. If a subject seems a waste of time to you, that’s OK. In learning something that you don’t like, you learn how to learn. Believe me—that will come in handy one day.

From your parents, take your character with you. Maybe you didn’t grow up in the best of circumstances. Maybe family life was hard. That’s OK. You can learn from that too. Hopefully, your parents were great role models, showing you what integrity is all about. Maybe they weren’t, and you learned how you didn’t want to be.

Learn from your coaches how to compete. And work as a team. You will be competing the rest of your life. Competing for a great job. Competing to be the best you can be. Sometimes competing just to survive. And, at some time, you will be part of a team. Maybe that team is your family. You have to learn how to work together as a family too.

It won’t be easy. You have a lot more to learn. But you are well equipped to take on the world, to live your dreams.

Playing with Friends

 

One of the things that athletes have told me for years is that the greatest thing about playing on a team, and maybe especially about playing on a high school team, is the opportunity to play a sport you love with kids you have grown up with.

Even though it has been a very long time (a VERY long time), I can remember those same feelings. And I can remember those days like they were yesterday.

When I was in Junior High, the local high school built a completely new facility, in a farm field within walking distance of my house. The “old” high school was in town, high on a hill. Growing up, I attended a lot of events there, from dances (yes, while in Junior High) to basketball games in a gym that resembled a smaller version of Cameron Indoor Arena at Duke to football games on the hill above the school.

My Pee Wee and Midget football games were played on that same field. I dreamed of someday playing my high school games on that same field. But the school system chose differently and built what we always called the “new” high school. Almost across the street from where I lived.

One of the first things they did was to level the field where the football field was to be and sowed it with grass. Football was always king in the little town where I grew up.  When that grass got high enough to mow, they recruited a bunch of us young boys to come and mow it with our lawn mowers.

I was in that select group. There were riding lawn mowers back then (and yes, combustion engines) but they wanted it “push-mowed.” They paid us so we were happy to do it. A lot of us made our summer money by mowing yards.

Somebody, I don’t remember who, had brought a football to the mowing, so as soon as the mowing was finished, we divided up and played a football game.

No referees. No lines. No goal posts. Just a vast expanse of green grass, freshly mowed. You can be sure it was full on tackle football. None of this “two hand touch” game.

Played without helmets or pads. We lined up the mowers to designate the goal line on either end of the field. First downs were 10 yards or they might be 20 yards. We decided as we went along.

I remember that the game was marked by lots of long runs by the quicker individuals on the field. I definitely wasn’t one of those. I was a linebacker-type. Hit you hard if I could catch you.

I don’t remember who was there that day (there are some lapses in my memory), but I have always been proud of playing the first football game on that field, the same field that I would play my high school games.

I remember those days clearly. And I especially remember my coaches and my teammates. I remember games and can quote scores from my senior year. But the people. They were special and memorable.

Head Coach Bert “Chig” Ratledge. Never called him by that nickname. He was always Coach Ratledge. Coach Gary Dutton, still a friend and still influencing young people. Coach Buddy Windle, who was on a walker the last time I saw him.

Teammates Mike Bivens, J.L. Millsaps, Lonnie Hawkins, Tony Mays, Greg Cagle. Those were from my class. From other classes, Ricky Alexander, Jerry Buckner, Gordo Watson, Dickie Blankenship, Jake Lane, Yancy Hampton. Dano Rogers, the hardest 180 pounds in history.

Some of them, I’ve kept in touch with through the years. Most are just memories. But when I do see any of that old gang, that bond that was forged on that expanse of grass is still there, still strong.

Enjoy your days in sports. Embrace your teammates. Appreciate your coaches. Blink an eye and you’re an old man with only memories.

The Road Less Traveled

 

“Two roads diverged in a wood and I—I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.”

That line, the most famous by poet Robert Frost, came up in a conversation recently. Yeah, sometimes I run with a weird crowd. But it actually had to do with sports and competition. It started as just another conversation about sports specialization and private coaches, personal trainers, and travel teams. For 10 year olds.

We talked about choosing just one sport at too early an age, which, at the very least, leads to injuries and, at its worst, causes burnout and abandoning sport altogether. No less authority than world renowned Orthopedic Surgeon Dr. Jim Andrews is on a mission to discourage sports specialization.

Many noted authorities on youth sport injuries in baseball declare that throwing a curve ball before physical and emotional maturity is a huge mistake. Research backs that up.

And there’s not much evidence for sport-specific personal trainers before puberty anyway. Travel teams seem to be the norm these days and it’s OK, but not at the risk of losing a childhood.

We also talked about recruiting services for young athletes. The worst example that I’ve heard in a while was an “agent” who, for a fee, would guarantee a college scholarship. For a 12 year old basketball player.

They had to play on the “right” teams and go to the “right” camps but this all-seeing agent could already tell that your child was destined for greatness.  At 12. Yeah, right.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen 12 year olds that you just knew were going to be good. Cait McMahan at 12 was going to be a star athlete. Everybody that saw her knew it.

Goodness, she could have played just about anything. I remember seeing her throw a football in the end zone of a high school game, tossing 40 yard spirals. She might have been 9 at that time. She would beat 8^th graders in basketball when she was a 4^th grader. It happened.

And Lee Humphreys. If you ever saw him shoot a basketball (I first saw him when he was in the 7^th grade), you knew that he had a shot like none you had ever seen before.

I would have offered him a basketball scholarship in junior high. That UT’s coach Buzz Peterson didn’t wrap him up in recruiting still bumfuzzles me. Lee went on to superstardom at Florida, holding 3 point shooting records there that may still be standing.

But like Cait, he could have played anything. Can you imagine him as the receiver on a football team? Or as a slick-gloved shortstop? Sure you can.

Can you imagine what a terror Cait would have  been on the basepaths of a softball game? Or as a Libero, covering the entire volleyball court? I don’t know if she’s ever even held a golf club in her hands but I bet she could hit it straighter and farther than I ever did.

The point is that yes, you know that some athletes are destined for greatness. You know it even when they’re young. Which brings up another quote/cliché—hard work beats talent when talent doesn’t work hard.

That’s where the Robert Frost quote came into the conversation. Yes, Cait and Lee were blessed with talent, but they worked hard.

I think Lee had the keys to a couple of gyms. I know that I would see him from time to time at Maryville College, shooting in the gym. I have no idea how many thousands of shots he took in practice while in high school but I’m certain that number is huge.

And Cait, whose dad was a legendary coach in these parts and whose brother was a prodigious athlete in his own right. Few would outwork her. She was always doing something to make herself better. Still does.

Which brings me to the final point. There is no easy path to success. You have to put in the work.

Summer Time Blues

 

I’ve got some bad news for you. Blink your eyes and summer will be over. You think just because school got out that you’ve got days and days of summer leisure ahead of you? Think again. It passes all too quickly.

It doesn’t matter if you’re in school or you’re the parent of someone in school, it will be gone before you know it. The rest of us? We hardly notice anything.

I mean, football preseason starts in July. That’s NEXT MONTH! You think you’ve got a lot of time? Nope. Not much at all.

If you’re an athlete, this is not the time to take a break. For most of you, everything about your sport is ramped up. It’s just the school part that is missing.

And that’s OK. You’ve got to look at it as an opportunity.  An opportunity to get better. An opportunity to get stronger. An opportunity to learn new things.

Camps are available for every sport you can think of. Those allow you to practice basic skills from coaches whose sole job is to help you master the basics. Camps are never about winning championships.  And everyone participates.

As you get older, camps are an opportunity to get noticed by college coaches. Many of those camps are on college campuses, featuring college coaches. The coaching network is often vast, and if a coach thinks you might play for someone else, they will often give that other coach a heads up.

If you are interested in becoming a college athlete, attending a camp at a school you’re interested in is important. Make sure that your skillset matches the level of play at the school. Your own coach here can help you with that.

It’s definitely time to hit the weight room. No longer trying to fit it in among school and practice and all the other things you do when school is going on, you have tons more time to work on strength, flexibility, agility, speed—all the things.

Of course, many of the travel ball teams are on the road during the summer. Tournaments for baseball, softball, soccer, and volleyball are everywhere. Those have become a real tourism thing.

I joined my son and granddaughter last month on a road trip for soccer that took us to Buffalo and then Pittsburgh. I do have a problem with the fact that this kind of travel imposes a tremendous financial burden on parents. There are plenty of events close to home.

With that being said, some of my fondest memories when my own kids were growing up were some of those trips with travel ball. We would pile up in a couple of vans and travel to wherever we were playing, staying four to a room and eating cheap.

Flexibility, fitness, and all those things that go into making a well rounded athlete should be your summer focus.

But here’s my summer tip: attend a concert and read a book. I highly recommend local author Joe Swann’s The Early Life and Times of David Crockett in East Tennessee. It should be required reading.

With the obscenely high concert prices these days, you don’t have to the big venues to enjoy some really great music. “Songs by the Brook” at Springbrook Park in August and September provides a wonderful opportunity to enjoy free music.

Swim, hike, paddle, bike, do all the things that you don’t have time for when school is in. If binge watching your favorite series is your idea of a summer event, then you’re going to find out that when school rolls around again, you just aren’t ready. 

 

I am...

I am a Physical Therapist. I've been practicing PT for almost 47 years. All but two of those years have been in Blount County.

"Practicing" physical therapy...I always thought that term was odd. I graduated from UT Center for the Health Sciences in Memphis in 1977. In 2005, physical therapy education switched completely to the doctorate level.

I didn't have to, but I chose to go back and complete a doctorate, finishing that at UT-Chattanooga in 2008 at the ripe old age of 55. 

Here's the thing about that--I entered that program for what I thought was a leadership thing, being a good example to others. But what I took away from it was an even greater thirst for learning than I ever had.

Maybe that’s why I’m still working well past the age when most people are retired (71, for the record). I’ve kept learning. I’ve kept growing. I strive to be better each day than I was the day before.

Let me say that again, because I still regularly get the comment “I thought you were retired!” I am not retired. I don’t have any real plans to retire. I’ll know when the day comes to pack it in. Until then, you can find me at Total Rehab-Cherokee.  Every day.

I suppose it was when I stopped covering high school sports (for the most part). Maybe it seems like I went away. I didn’t, although 40 hours a week in the clinic seems like vacation when compared to football season in years past, when I would work 70 hour weeks. Every week, from July to December.

I’m also an Athletic Trainer. I wear both hats proudly. Being an Athletic Trainer means I am qualified to work with sports teams, athletes, and active individuals. Athletic Trainers are well trained in emergency medical procedures, diagnostics, athletic rehab, and what seems like a million other things.

In other words, we are responsible for pretty much everything that happens to our athletes, from concussions to heat to skin disorders—the list goes on.

Physical Therapist. Athletic Trainer. I suppose you could say that when I’m on the sidelines, I’m an Athletic Trainer and when I’m in the clinic I’m a Physical Therapist, but that really isn’t the case at all. I never stop being either. My physical therapy background influences my work as an athletic trainer and vice versa.

I’m also a certified Sports Clinical Specialist (SCS). That is a physical therapy certification that doesn’t really imply competence but does mean that I’ve completed a rather rigorous process to achieve that designation. I’m the only SCS in Blount County.

But all that doesn’t mean much if I can’t take great care of the next person in front of me. What I’ve done in the past doesn’t help much if you’re next and I don’t give you my best.

In about a month, I will have been writing a column for The Daily Times for 40 years. That’s a lot of columns. I wish I could be as funny as columnist Sam Venable, but my role is more preacher and teacher. 

I guess my point in all this is that you should never stop learning. That you should never think that you’ve reached your best. That your work is never done.

I thought you would find me on the sidelines of a game somewhere for as long as I could get around, but sometimes the venue changes, and that’s OK. We all just need to be dedicated to being our best.