Gut Rumbles

January 28, 2008


Originally published December 16, 2003

Have you ever been knocked unconscious? I have, four times in my life.

The first one came when I was hit square between the eyes with a softball thrown by my Uncle Virgil. He tossed me a high fly ball and it got tangled up in the leaves of a sycamore tree so that I didn't see it until it whopped me right in the head. I never knew that I was out until I opened my eyes and saw all my family, scared to death, hovering around me. Lights on, lights off, then lights back on.

I was knocked out twice while playing football. Both times, I had no idea about how long I was in the dirt, but I always remembered what happened to put me there. I knew my name and what day of the week it was when I woke up with an ammonia capsule broken under my nose.

I saw other people have the same thing happen and they didn't know what PLANET they were on when they woke up. I must have a hard head.

My last knockout blow came in a car wreck on Highway 278 on the way to play golf at Rose Hill Plantation in South Carolina. I took out the windshield of a 1986 Chrystler LeBaron in a T-Bone crash at 55 MPH. I was fortunate to survive that one, and I believe that front-wheel drived saved me that day. The car was totalled, but I was okay, except for being unconscious for a minute or so.

I saw a segment of Real Sports on HBO that other day that reported a link some doctor has found between repeated concussions and chronic depression. Now I have an excuse for being depressed a lot of the time. Forget the BC, the loss of everything I ever cared about and the prostate cancer.

I simply was hit in the head one time too often.

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