I haven’t seen my mid kid in months and today I did and learned that he’s ruined his pinky finger. There is an opportunity for surgery down the road and rehab to follow, but he’s too locked in to consider such things. It is bent and will not straighten–will never straighten again if he refuses to get the surgery. It isn’t a thing that impacts his play. It probably impacts his typing, but that isn’t my issue. I don’t want him to feel some sort of away about himself. Scars do that to us; they leave impressions upon skin and bone that hold fast long after our minds have tried to move away from the moment. They keep us there indefinitely. I have a dozen scars on my flesh. I remember where each one came from, save for the one that I cannot understand if it happened one way or another. Both moments seem entirely true. Only one can be true.
He’s going to carry this injury in some form for the rest of his life. It is going to be a constant reminder of the sacrifices he made for this sport and this opportunity to be great. On Saturday he has his next chance to find that greatness. I want it for him so badly. This stopped being about me a long time ago. I know I failed at college football. All I wanted for them was to get a scholarship and get a chance to leave college without the massive debt I accrued. They’ve both outplayed my expectations. Now they’re trying to beat their own.
Some Thoughts:
- Rams got thumped down under. Apparently they flew across the world and thought they could play without acclimating. Nope. 27-7.