By Cynthia Zordich
My son Alex was a 7th grade running back when he got his first documented concussion. It was documented because it was the first time we actually took him to the ER. All the other times, and there were many, we snapped his chin strap back on and threw him back in. This game would be his second hit in a week. It would be the week I learned the term Second Impact Syndrome.
After a full day at UPMC with concussion specialist Dr. Micky Collins, Alex was taken through a series of tests including the ImPACT test. The prognosis was grim - one year out. I remember Alex's face. To lighten up the mood, I said, "A-man, do me a favor when you're 40. Pull up a bar stool and start talking 8th grade football. No one cares." We all laughed. He did too for about half a second. I remember how he handled that season. He never missed a practice or workout, even though he couldn't participate in either. He stood right behind his coach at the games - clipboard in hand. He broke the huddle at the Championship game.
The summer before his freshman season, he took part in a Penn State Summer Camp. I got a call from the PSU trainer. Alex took a knee to the head in a 7 on 7. "Put Alex on the phone," I asked. I could see his eyes, even though I couldn't see him. "Look, I said, there isn't a player alive that wouldn't feel a knee to the head. This doesn't mean you're concussed. Let Micky decide that." I knew what he was thinking - that he would never play this game. Turns out, he wasn't concussed. Alex went on to play QB at Cardinal Mooney High School. He committed to the State University of New York (UB). Soon, we pushed all concussion thought to the back of our heads. As a QB, Alex often reverted back to his old running back days. Running out of bounds was never his style and in the middle of his senior year, it caught up to him.
I am fortunate, as a photographer, to be on the sidelines shooting the games. There is (between my sons and I) an unspoken rule down there. I don't look at them and they don't look at me. There have been exchanges though and I can remember each one of them. Having lost his starting spot, Alex found himself backing up. It was his most challenging role to date, yet he handled it with grace. He also took that role seriously. "I'm ready when they need me" was his motto.
I was at the far end of the sideline. It was a QB keep and I had a perfect shot of him running along the line. A defender had him wrapped up pretty good and two more brought him crashing to the ground. I saw the side of his head bounce off the turf. When the series ended, I broke our rule and looked right at him. He shook his head.
By the time we got to the training room after the game, it had all come back to me. I knew the drill. This time however, his symptoms were worse. He had double vision and constant floaters.
I called Dr. Collin's office and he got back to me immediately. By Monday morning, he had lined up his team. By early noon we had a clear diagnosis. He was concussed. That was certain. We followed up with appointments in Buffalo. Within a few days, between two great groups of professionals, we began managing and treating his concussion.
Ten days passed before the Buffalo team eased him back into light workouts. Within two weeks, he was cleared to play. Alex assured everyone that he was symptom-free. He had no headaches. No vision problems. After the road we had been down, I was sure he was telling the truth. I also knew how important the season was to him so, of course, I wanted to see him back out there.
It looked like UB was on their way to the MAC Championship, but the season ended with a tough loss against Bowling Green. I could feel the weight of their disappointment. At one point, I found my son looking out across the field. I can only describe his expression as peaceful. As if he were taking it all in and saying goodbye. Turns out, he was.
Later, after a night at our favorite local spot the Audubon, Alex asked to speak to us. "I haven't been telling the truth," he said. "I'm pretty messed up in the head. My eyes are messed up. My neck is messed up. I didn't tell you in case these guys needed me - but I'm telling you now."
So he lied. He of all people that knows so much. You might think I would have flipped out, but I didn't. In an insane way, I completely understood. That's how we raised him. To finish the job, to sacrifice for the cause, to bite down, to battle. This is the creed of a true athlete.
I tell you this to warn you that the athlete in your life will lie about his concussion and there is a weird chance you may let him.
Concussions don't just take athletes out of the game - for a lot of these guys they take away face. As twisted as it is, when a player takes himself out, his commitment and courage come into question. Athletes can feel that subtle doubt and it burns in them. It goes against the grain of the game. And that is why they won't. Our culture revels the hit and the player who can take the hit. We still don't get that guy who plays it safe and I'm not sure we ever will. No one knows this more than the guys on the field. They hear us - loud and clear. For me personally, I should have known better. For all that I knew about concussions, I shouldn't have bought in so quickly.
I remember talking to a team mom about her son. He had been knocked out in a game and she called me for advice. "Sit him out," I said warning her about Second Impact Syndrome. Her response? "But it's his senior year. He's been waiting for this his whole life." Next game - he played.
Besides education, another solution to all of this uncertainty is surfacing and I witnessed it during the Saints/Eagles playoff game. It was prime time and we all watched as Keenan Lewis taunted his trainer to get back in the game. Trainer, Scotty Patton wasn't budging. "Lewis is going nuts," I said, "look at him!" My husband yelled back, "OF COURSE HE IS! IT'S THE PLAYOFFS!!" So there you have it. The solution. The decision HAS to be taken out of the player's hands. It's happening in the League and it has to happen on the NCAA, High School and Pop Warner level. Teams must hire guys like Scotty Patton who won't back down. Truth is, most athletes are hard-headed liars when it comes to getting hit. A scarier truth? Most parents will do anything for their kids - even turn a blind eye so they can play.
Have you had a similar experience with the athlete in your life? Share your story in the comments.
NFL Insider Cynthia Zordich is married to former NFL Safety Michael Zordich. Her son Michael is a Fullback for the Carolina Panthers. Alex just completed his career at the State University of New York (UB) and daughter Aidan is a Junior at Penn State in Advertising.