Great read...
Lattimore’s injury affects team, fans
Subheadline: Even opponents and complete strangers want successful return
I’m not ashamed to admit it: I had to battle to keep a tear or two at bay on Saturday.
Football is supposed to be our collective escape. For a few short hours, it’s supposed to extricate us from daily drudgery and rinse away the problems that muddy our thoughts. We’ve programmed ourselves to react to the ups and downs of our team, not necessarily the joys and pains of individuals. We cheer on armies of men that look like something more. Their humanity is buried somewhere under shoulder pads and helmets and dark visors. With their almost unfathomable physical strength, their machine-like appearance, the extra few inches of height joined with their cleats and helmets, they seem invincible — they seem more than human.
But remember, under all of that armor, under all of those pounds of painstakingly sculpted muscle, these are college kids. These are young men.
Even for the most talented, their futures are murky and undecided. At 19, did you have a clue what your future held? But we forget that simple fact because it’s obscured by the school colors and the armor and the muscle and the speed. Yes, they get to play a game they love, that we love, and get to revel in a spotlight few of us can imagine, but in doing so, they put their bodies – their futures – at risk every Saturday.
Marcus Lattimore has been one of college football’s most captivating players. Even as a freshman – a kid a few months removed from high school – he stood out from many of those other armor-clad warriors on Saturdays. In his first season at South Carolina, he eclipsed 1,600 yards from scrimmage and had 19 total touchdowns in a conference littered with savage defenses.
Glory on Sunday – and financial security for himself and his family – seemed preordained. Then, on Oct. 15 last year, that changed when his left ACL snapped against Mississippi State. He endured a year of rehab behind the scenes that was more mentally and physically exhausting as anything he’d ever faced on a football field.
I went through that process to keep a less-than-mediocre high school basketball career alive, when the stakes were low, when I knew my future, or a college scholarship, or a career, weren’t tied to pushing myself through that painful process. And it was still the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And for the many of you out there who’ve gone through it, I’d imagine you’d say the same. But Lattimore, with so much more at stake, endured. He returned to the field in South Carolina’s first game this year and has since showed flashes of what thrilled us two years ago, going over 100 rushing yards three times and breaking the South Carolina career rushing touchdown record in only two seasons worth of games.
Then he took the field against Tennessee on Saturday. Then he planted his right leg as he attempted to shake off a tackle. Then a Tennessee defender fell into that firmly planted limb. Then his knee came unmoored and his lower leg flailed as if it wasn’t a part of the rest of him while he spun to the ground. Then his foot pointed in a direction no human’s should. And, immediately, as he tore his helmet off, you could see the panic, the unfiltered fear, the shock in his eyes, the realization that it had happened again, and that it was worse.
“I just tried to tell him to stay mentally strong; I saw the look in his eyes when he was on the ground and he was really heartbroken about his injury,” teammate Ace Sanders said after the game.
South Carolina trainers placed their hands on his chest as they straightened the mangled knee. Those hands seemed like they were trying to force the fear that was spilling out of him, in front of a full stadium and millions at home, back inside. But they couldn’t. And, suddenly, in that moment as he was lying on the field, the 6-foot tall, 220-pound mound of muscle that we were so accustomed to seeing buried under a wall of hard plastic and horizontal bars and scarlet and grey looked as vulnerable and scared as a lost child.
In that moment, he was no longer Marcus Lattimore, explosive athlete who we marvel at from afar. He was a scared young man – a frightened college kid – terrified not only for his physical well-being, but for his future. And we were right there with him. The helplessness in his face put anyone with even the slightest sense of empathy on that field next to him. He was not a machine built to carry a football. He was human. He looked like we might when we bombed the job interview, when the LSAT scores came back low, when a girlfriend coldly said goodbye.
As trainers worked to stabilize that knee and Lattimore’s emotions, his entire team encircled him in a show of solidarity. Half of the Tennessee players trickled onto the field to show their support amid the eerie silence of 80,000 hushed voices.
Once trainers were able to get him on a cart, a towel found its way over his head. Under its cover, he sobbed violently, but we all saw it. Watching that massive man – one with physical skills we can’t comprehend – reduced to a terrified kid, one who knew exactly how daunting the climb back would be because he’d just finished making that painful ascent, pulled my throat tight. Watching his teammates place hands on his head and shoulders and arms in hopes of conveying some sense of comfort, but failing, made my jaw clench. Watching that machine who was supposed to be one of the centerpieces of our collective Saturday diversion become human in the most jarring way possible, made my eyes slowly water.
I don’t know Marcus Lattimore. I’ve never met him or spoken with him and maybe I never will. But after seeing his eyes on Saturday, I know that he’s more than just a football player, more than just a passing distraction to discuss and dissect.
“He’s such a good young man,” South Carolina head coach Steve Spurrier said after the game. “Good things are going to happen for Marcus. I don’t know exactly where or how, but good things are going to happen for Marcus Lattimore.”
After seeing what I saw on Saturday – after seeing that Marcus Lattimore is just a college kid with a broken heart – I certainly hope that they do.
link: http://www.ncaa.com/news/football/breaking-huddle/2012-10-29/lattimores-injury-affects-team-fans
Lattimore’s injury affects team, fans
Subheadline: Even opponents and complete strangers want successful return
I’m not ashamed to admit it: I had to battle to keep a tear or two at bay on Saturday.
Football is supposed to be our collective escape. For a few short hours, it’s supposed to extricate us from daily drudgery and rinse away the problems that muddy our thoughts. We’ve programmed ourselves to react to the ups and downs of our team, not necessarily the joys and pains of individuals. We cheer on armies of men that look like something more. Their humanity is buried somewhere under shoulder pads and helmets and dark visors. With their almost unfathomable physical strength, their machine-like appearance, the extra few inches of height joined with their cleats and helmets, they seem invincible — they seem more than human.
But remember, under all of that armor, under all of those pounds of painstakingly sculpted muscle, these are college kids. These are young men.
Even for the most talented, their futures are murky and undecided. At 19, did you have a clue what your future held? But we forget that simple fact because it’s obscured by the school colors and the armor and the muscle and the speed. Yes, they get to play a game they love, that we love, and get to revel in a spotlight few of us can imagine, but in doing so, they put their bodies – their futures – at risk every Saturday.
Marcus Lattimore has been one of college football’s most captivating players. Even as a freshman – a kid a few months removed from high school – he stood out from many of those other armor-clad warriors on Saturdays. In his first season at South Carolina, he eclipsed 1,600 yards from scrimmage and had 19 total touchdowns in a conference littered with savage defenses.
Glory on Sunday – and financial security for himself and his family – seemed preordained. Then, on Oct. 15 last year, that changed when his left ACL snapped against Mississippi State. He endured a year of rehab behind the scenes that was more mentally and physically exhausting as anything he’d ever faced on a football field.
I went through that process to keep a less-than-mediocre high school basketball career alive, when the stakes were low, when I knew my future, or a college scholarship, or a career, weren’t tied to pushing myself through that painful process. And it was still the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And for the many of you out there who’ve gone through it, I’d imagine you’d say the same. But Lattimore, with so much more at stake, endured. He returned to the field in South Carolina’s first game this year and has since showed flashes of what thrilled us two years ago, going over 100 rushing yards three times and breaking the South Carolina career rushing touchdown record in only two seasons worth of games.
Then he took the field against Tennessee on Saturday. Then he planted his right leg as he attempted to shake off a tackle. Then a Tennessee defender fell into that firmly planted limb. Then his knee came unmoored and his lower leg flailed as if it wasn’t a part of the rest of him while he spun to the ground. Then his foot pointed in a direction no human’s should. And, immediately, as he tore his helmet off, you could see the panic, the unfiltered fear, the shock in his eyes, the realization that it had happened again, and that it was worse.
“I just tried to tell him to stay mentally strong; I saw the look in his eyes when he was on the ground and he was really heartbroken about his injury,” teammate Ace Sanders said after the game.
South Carolina trainers placed their hands on his chest as they straightened the mangled knee. Those hands seemed like they were trying to force the fear that was spilling out of him, in front of a full stadium and millions at home, back inside. But they couldn’t. And, suddenly, in that moment as he was lying on the field, the 6-foot tall, 220-pound mound of muscle that we were so accustomed to seeing buried under a wall of hard plastic and horizontal bars and scarlet and grey looked as vulnerable and scared as a lost child.
In that moment, he was no longer Marcus Lattimore, explosive athlete who we marvel at from afar. He was a scared young man – a frightened college kid – terrified not only for his physical well-being, but for his future. And we were right there with him. The helplessness in his face put anyone with even the slightest sense of empathy on that field next to him. He was not a machine built to carry a football. He was human. He looked like we might when we bombed the job interview, when the LSAT scores came back low, when a girlfriend coldly said goodbye.
As trainers worked to stabilize that knee and Lattimore’s emotions, his entire team encircled him in a show of solidarity. Half of the Tennessee players trickled onto the field to show their support amid the eerie silence of 80,000 hushed voices.
Once trainers were able to get him on a cart, a towel found its way over his head. Under its cover, he sobbed violently, but we all saw it. Watching that massive man – one with physical skills we can’t comprehend – reduced to a terrified kid, one who knew exactly how daunting the climb back would be because he’d just finished making that painful ascent, pulled my throat tight. Watching his teammates place hands on his head and shoulders and arms in hopes of conveying some sense of comfort, but failing, made my jaw clench. Watching that machine who was supposed to be one of the centerpieces of our collective Saturday diversion become human in the most jarring way possible, made my eyes slowly water.
I don’t know Marcus Lattimore. I’ve never met him or spoken with him and maybe I never will. But after seeing his eyes on Saturday, I know that he’s more than just a football player, more than just a passing distraction to discuss and dissect.
“He’s such a good young man,” South Carolina head coach Steve Spurrier said after the game. “Good things are going to happen for Marcus. I don’t know exactly where or how, but good things are going to happen for Marcus Lattimore.”
After seeing what I saw on Saturday – after seeing that Marcus Lattimore is just a college kid with a broken heart – I certainly hope that they do.
link: http://www.ncaa.com/news/football/breaking-huddle/2012-10-29/lattimores-injury-affects-team-fans
