Why would I need help from sticks and stones, Part 1?

If I told you that I’ve broken six (maybe seven) bones in my life, you may assume one of the following: I was in a bad car accident, I have early onset osteoporosis, I was jumped by a jujitsu gang, or my parents accidentally signed their scrawny son up for hockey. But none of those happened.

My parents were glad when I took a liking to the “safer” sport of soccer instead of football. They didn’t think that I would break five (maybe six) of my own bones while playing soccer and another doing Tae Kwon Do. But what did all those breaks teach me?

Break#1, Lesson #1: “Dis-graceful”

We’ve heard the phrase “brain over brawn,” but my club soccer coach probably realized that his team was a bit short on the brain part; thus, he focused on the brawn. He was always trying to make men of us teenage boys, toughen us up physically and emotionally. As a Navy man, he understood the effects of drills, so he had us do some inventive drills.

For example, in one drill, we formed two lines facing him and ran towards him, crashing our shoulders into the person’s in the other line. We did this before every game to toughen us up, get us in a mindset, and intimidate the other team. To my coach’s credit, he was trying to use brawn to get into the other team’s brain while simultaneously teaching us how to win a loose ball. But I was too naïve to realize that then—or care about it. I didn’t love the drill, but despite a few bruised shoulders, I never injured myself doing it.

The inventive drill that was my downfall was equally creative, but much less useful in my mind. The object was to practice slide-tackling. Two lines were formed facing each other about 30 yards apart. The person in front of each line would then run towards the other. At about midway, one would slide tackle and the other would jump over AND do a somersault. Why would we do a flying somersault? Beats me, but questioning the point of a drill was not an option at practice.

My turn to jump came and I ran and jumped. At the peak of my jump, which was insanely high because I had hops (no, I am not being sarcastic), I remembered that I was supposed to do a somersault.

Let’s pause while I’m in the air and emphasize that I didn’t like conflict, so I would avoid it all costs. I especially didn’t like being the receiving end of a stern reprimand. I would have rather injured myself than felt the wrath of my just-out-of-the-military coach. Who knew what he would make me do?

So, at the peak of my jump, I started tucking into somersault position. It must have looked like I was diving head first into a pool—but without the pool. I finished about half of the somersault, coming straight down on my shoulder. Yes, I heard a crack, but when you hit the ground with your limbs flailing, contemplating the meaning of new sounds takes a backseat to trying not to land on your head.

Whatever it looked like, it was ugly enough for the coach to call off the drill. He told us to take a lap. Did my shoulder hurt? Probably. Did I want to anger my coach any more after throwing my body into the ground and ruining his drill? Definitely not. I had no idea I had broken anything, so I got up and started to run with the team. Maybe it looked tough to run with a broken bone, but it was the opposite. I was a bit scared, and maybe a little dazed.

Thankfully, my coach noticed that I was running pretty gimpily (ßnot a word) and pulled me out of line. He asked me what was wrong and sent me off to the hospital. I was quickly diagnosed with a fractured clavicle. I say quickly because that was the fastest I would ever get through the hospital; my mom was working in Urgent Care that day. The treatment was an arm sling, rest, and a brace that held my shoulders back and in place.

At the end of the year, my coach had names or phrases engraved on our trophies that reminded him of each of us. Mine had the phrase “Dis-graceful.” I wasn’t hurt by the engraving, but you can imagine that I was hoping for something a little cooler. Besides, it definitely wasn’t the most proud or elegant moment in my life. And it did commemorate a number of important life lessons summed up in cliches: Brain over brawn, think before you act, look before you leap, don't jump up in the air and throw yourself head first into the ground (well, if that last one were a cliche, maybe I wouldn't have broken my collarbone). Unfortunately, it also commemorated just the first of many more broken bones.