My Thumb! My Thumb!
Never particularly blessed with athletic ability, gym class was not a favorite part of grade school. Between being an easy dodge ball target and the predictable ‘Last Pick Lisa’ when building teams, the experience was underwhelming. Occasionally, the stars would align in a way that I was granted a shining moment of athletic glory.
One such occasion happened my freshman year of high school. The weather was bad and the gym teacher opted for a game of indoor football. Gym was my last class of the day and we were nearing the end of the period. Because I liked to be one of the first in the locker room, I made a dash for the corner of the end zone on the last play of the game to be closest to the door when the bell rang.
That’s when it happened. The play developed in such a way that I was wide open for a game winning touchdown. I heard the quarterback call my name and I looked up in time to see the ball heading right toward me. I was going to have an amazing moment. Redemption for years of gym class failures was a catch away. I extended my arms with my eyes locked on the ball. My focus was so intense, I failed to notice a fellow teammate’s interest in being the hero. Rob (changing his name for privacy purposes and because he legitimately robbed me of my moment) came running from the side, jumped into the air and caught the ball. Touchdown!
I didn’t go home empty handed. I ended up catching Rob. We both crashed to the floor with me on the bottom. My head bounced off of the gym floor making a sound classmates later compared to a bowling ball bouncing on an alley floor. When I was able to get up, I wasn’t exactly sure of what happened. Rob was rolling around on the floor wailing about his thumb. He hurt it in the play. I remember helping him up off the floor and asking him if he was okay. Everyone crowded around him at that point to assess his injury and offer comfort. He was miserable. I backed away.
Not long after the commotion, the bell rang and class was over. I remember walking to the locker room and wondering why everything was in slow motion. People were talking in muffled voices and the lights were unusually bright. I couldn’t get my locker to open, so I decided to keep my gym clothes on and head home.
My stepfather taught in the high school and my usual routine was to ride home with him. Though the school was small and the path from the gym to his classroom was very familiar to me, I could not find his classroom. Nothing looked right. After a time, my gym teacher happened to cross paths with me in the hallway and asked me what I was doing. I told her I couldn’t find Lyle (my stepdad). That’s when she realized the sound she heard on the last play of the game was my head.
Long story short, my gym teacher escorted me to my stepfather, told him about my braining incident and he promptly took me to the doctor. After a series of tests and x-rays, it was determined I would live. We headed home and I spent the next few days slightly confused and a whole lotta dizzy. When I returned to school and rehashed events with Rob, he didn’t recall hearing my head hit the floor and he was certain the ball was coming right at him. You’ll be relieved to know his thumb was over the devastating experience.
For me, this story is a reminder of how it can look when we don’t pay attention to how our actions and ambitions collide with the well being of others. It may be completely unintentional, as I’m sure was the case with Rob. In these instances, does our pain or glory distract us from those who may have experienced the most harm? What if their injuries are invisible, perhaps to the point they are ignoring their pain to see to our well being when we experience discomfort? Are we wailing about our thumb, commanding attention and care, when another person’s world has been shaken?
