The Worst ACL Story in the World, and Athletes

In early May, about two months after my surgery, I heard the worst ACL story in the world. I was dropping my son off at his soccer try-out. As he was off warming up with the other boys, I was standing on the sidelines talking to other parents. Heidi asked how I was recovering, as she always does when she sees me. The parents on the Boy's soccer team have seen me every few weeks since the accident, except for when I was in hiding directly after the accident and surgery.

"How are you doing?" she asked, and I told her. I was still in the phase of using the disabled parking spots so I wouldn't have to walk too far. I was evaluating slopes versus stairs: which would easier for me to go up or down? Perrin, one of the other dads, told a story about his ACL tear and surgery, but then how he didn't go to PT and now he still limps.

"I am an example of what not to do," he said.

Another mom who I had never seen before and will probably never see again, was part of the conversation. She knew Heidi through their older sons. This women floated into my life for four minutes, told a story, and left. I happen to remember it because it was the worst ACL story I've ever heard.

"There was a girl on my daughter's soccer team," she said. The girls both played on the most elite team in the club for their age range while they were in high school. "This girl was really good, clearly one of the stars. All of the parents and kids on the team knew this girl was special and on her way to a top scholarship. Then she tore her ACL."

Playing soccer is a common way to tear an ACL, across all ages and genders.

"The girl had the surgery and she did all of her rehab. She worked really hard to get back in shape and was ready to play again. In her first game back, she was out there playing without a brace. I don't know why she wasn't wearing a brace, but she wasn't. Then, a girl from the other team plowed into her. The girl had her injured leg planted when the other kid crashed into her, and then she went down. She broke down into sobs there on the field. She knew she had re-torn her ACL. All of the moms on the sidelines were crying. We had watched this girl go through her first injury and work so hard to come back. It was so horrible."

That was the worst ACL story in the world. A young athlete's career was ruined not once, but twice. That girl will never get back her high school years playing soccer. To take one year off is hard, but two is horrible. No only is she not playing, but all of the other kids are getting stronger, faster and better skilled while she is on the bench. There is no way to be Pollyanna about this one--that was why all of the moms were crying on the sidelines. I start crying just thinking about it. We could say "At least it wasn't a permanent injury," or "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," or "Maybe if Title 9 hadn't passed this girl would never have gotten hurt," but none of that makes this situation tolerable for that young woman who worked so hard at something she loved.

When I am at physical therapy, I see lots of athletes there. Most of them are duffers like me, who got hurt on the weekend or playing a rec league sport. But there are a few there who are professional, semi-professional, or college athletes. These are people for whom sports are a job, a profession, a potential livelihood, even if only as a scholarship that pays their tuition, which nowadays is not a small amount of money.

There is a young man where I got to physical therapy who is a football player in the European sense of the word. I don't know his name, so I'll call him Armando because I like the name Armando. He has a British-y accent, so maybe his real name is Alistair. I like Armando is better.

Armando plays soccer full-time. I don't know where, but I do know he tore his ACL. He is there every time I am at PT. He is usually smiling and chipper, hanging out without a PT at his side, working out in a self-directed program. Once in a while a physical therapist will walk by and tell him what to do next. When I first had my crash, there was another guy there who had a similar routine who I figured out was a professional football player (in the American sense).

I used to feel like such a slug compared to these super fit specimens of humanity who were recovering from the same injury I had. I--a middle aged women who was only moderately fit--didn't feel like I should be breathing the same as as these elite athletes. What if my mediocrity wore off on them? It would ruin their lives.

These guys kind of strut around the physical therapy room. They know they are stars. I added "kind of" to strut because there is a modesty about them, too. They don't at all seem arrogant because if they weren't injured, they wouldn't be there in the first place.

Now, as I am further coming along in my recovery, I am better able to understand what these people have lost, which is much more than I have lost with my ACL tear. I can understand a little bit, but I can't really imagine. My life changed with my injury, but it didn't radically change direction. I didn't lose my livelihood or my dreams. And yet, these men strut into physical therapy with what appears to me to be a healthy sense of optimism, working hard, like the modern warriors they are. Maybe these young athletes have a better sense of proportion than I do. Maybe they have sees the truly career ending injuries and are grateful they can recover.

I don't think all is lost for these guys. I read somewhere about the difference between elite soccer players and others is their decision making ability on the field. Many athletes--elite and non-elite--can have the same high level of conditioning, but the difference lies in how they read the ball and how quickly they can think. I hope that is the case for Armando, and that he will be back on the pitch soon.