In one of my previous journals I mentioned a great lady named Teri. Teri is a year younger than I. But Teri is the one that turned me back into the person I was, and made me the person that I am today.
If you recall, at 14 years of age I was a High School Freshman. I was the superstar of sports and women at the mere age of 14. I had made the all-city team as a youth and in Junior High in Football, Track, Baseball and Boxing. I had led the city in touchdowns for 5 years and had the single season record of 26 touchdowns in one season.
At 14, I was playing Varsity football and starting at four positions. I was the fastest kid in the city, even though I was the youngest kid to participate in Varsity track. Yet on a frozen day in February of 1974, I found myself lying on a football field with my right leg bent behind my collapsed body, the tibia bone broken in four places, the fibula bone protruding through my skin just below my knee, my ankle broken in two places, and my knee ruined for life.
Up to that point everyone claimed I got whatever I wanted from life, and that I easily won everything I ever tried. Girls never said no to me. And whatever sport I was in at the moment, I found a way to win no matter the odds. But it wasn’t as easy as everyone thought. I would fall behind, and I would begin to accept that I was too small, or too slow, or too weak to win. But in that moment something inside of me would come out and talk to me. Even though I was tired, hurt, cold, and bleeding; this voice would urge me on. This voice would remind me that I can win. And somewhere deep inside of my soul this other person would arise. This other person wanted to take more pain, just to prove that I could win. And somehow I would find that extra something to push me, and I would win.
But as I lay on that ice covered field in 1974, I knew my athletic career was over. As I later lay in a hospital bed, with wires protruding from my leg, I listened intently as expert doctors would whisper to my family that I would never walk again, much less run or have a chance at sports. My life had ended.
At 14 I started using drugs and drinking to make the pain and shame go away. I accepted that I would never be the person I always dreamed of being.
And as I wrote before, that was when Teri showed up. She took me under her beautiful wing, nursed me back to health, and then made me believe that what had happened was a setback and not a career ending move. Teri made me believe in myself again, and she got me to find that voice that would urge me on when all the chips were down. Teri brought me back.
Teri loved me. What she did for me she did out of love. But she did it knowing that what she would make me back into was the man that never noticed her before. And when I made it back to all the sports I loved, I won many more awards; and almost lost Teri.
When I was down, the girls disappeared. The glory vanished. And Teri brought it all back. And when I was back the girls came back; and I pushed Teri from my life.
My senior year I was at an awards banquet, and I saw Teri. She was so happy that I was in the limelight again, even though it meant that we were no longer close. I went to Teri to thank her for all that she did, and she cried. She told me that by pushing me back to stardom she knew she was giving up her chance to ever have me. But she knew that if I wasn’t that guy, then I would never be happy.
As we spoke, I asked Teri what I could do to thank her for all she did for me. She looked me in the eye and said . . . .
“I just wished that one time you would have fought for me! But someday you will find someone worth fighting for. I hope you fight just as hard for that special woman as you fought to get back here tonight.”
Teri walked away after that. To this day those words ring in my head. I became a guy that would fight for people and always refused to quit. I just never knew how hard the fight for the one I wanted would be. It would turn out to be the fight that causes more pain that that frozen day at 14; or the pain caused by my choices that felled my sister at 12; or the pain of my 10 days of hell in Somalia.
Several years ago I met A-ga-li-ha. She was a beautiful girl that everyone would eventually give up on. I fell for her, she is the one, and I swore that I would fight for her like Teri had suggested. A-ga-li-ha was the perfect companion for me. But she didn’t believe in herself, and she never gave anyone a chance to prove her wrong. She would intentionally inflict pain on those that got close, hoping that they would walk away. But I believe that she deeply wished that they wouldn’t quit.
So I fought for my version of “The one”. No matter what she did to me, or to others, or what people said about her; I knew her soul. And I knew that she was the one for me. So I fought, and for years I kept fighting. I couldn’t quit, I wouldn’t quit.
Finally A-ga-li-ha told me to give up. She told me I couldn’t win. And for a while I trusted her. So I quit.
For me, and for Teri, and most importantly for A-ga-li-ha I decided that I would keep fighting. I went through all that pain, all that suffering, and all that soul searching not to prove I was one of the best athletes in the state. No, I believe that I survived all that so that I could endure the wrath of A-ga-li-ha. She needed someone to believe in her. She needed someone to fight for her. She needs someone that doesn’t know how to quit.
So this one time, I kept fighting for her!
I can’t make someone like me. But I can keep fighting until my last breath is expended. Maybe I will fight for an eternity just to end up losing. But what I’ve learned about me is that I always have more fight in me. And until I am dead, I will fight for A-ga-li-ha.
Today she ignores me. Today she searches for someone else, or something else; just as I searched for alternatives back when I had a metal brace running the length of my leg. She pushes people away when they get too close, because they want more from her; just as I pushed people away when they wanted more from me.
But Teri fought through all my rudeness and objections. And I will keep fighting through all of A-ga-li ha’s rudeness and objections.
So Teri, if you ever read this . . . . thank you for reminding me that I can’t lose.
And A-ga-li-ha . . . . . I won’t lose! But I need your help. Be my Teri once again and give me a sign of hope. Let me know that all the pain I’ve been through for you is justified. Send me a sign that I am right, and you want me to fight for you.
I have plenty of fight left. More than any other man alive.
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