Let's Get Physical (Or... What Happens When You Play Games Like a 10-Year Old)

So, I excitedly scheduled my first physical in 3-years today, and I was looking forward to having my anal orifice penetrated by the fingers of the pretty PA. Alas, it was not to be, as I didn't have any of the symptoms usually prompting the penetrating digits of a professional physician. I considered offering her a fin just to check, but I didn't... I had too many other complaints.


At the urging of my neighbor, I volunteered to participate in old people sports, namely, flag-football at the local sports complex. It has a nice field with "Nexturf" - excellent for some old-guy football. Only problem is, I haven't been keeping "in shape" since about mid-Summer, I tend not to stretch, and I tend to play ALL-OUT because I still believe myself to be pretty good when matched up against people within the "general vicinity" of my age... and perhaps a handful beyond that. It's a man-thing. We still believe we have the unlimited flexibility that we had in our pre-teen years. Or, perhaps not, but for those fleeting couple of hours when you get to relive the childhood glory of street-ball, you forget that you really don't.


I did warm-up... sort of. I ran a few patterns (I play receiver on offense and defensive back on the D). Catch and throw for a bit. Nothing special nor specific. Most importantly, with WC and the kids there as fans, I was ready to show-off!


Earlier in the week, I felt a slight "twinge" in the top of my thigh standing up from a crouching position after helping one of the kids with something. I didn't give it much of a thought and after that day, it really didn't bother me so much.


I had a really good game with a couple of interceptions and played primarily defense, because our crapass team needs good defense. I was playing "right cornerback" but I tend to keep a watchful eye on everything. On one particular play, most of the other team was drifting towards the left and I saw the QB rear back to throw a long pass - the left cornerback was beat and I knew it before the ball even left the QBs hand and was starting a full sprint to cut off the receiver's angle to the endzone. He caught the ball as I was closing in and just as I launched into a Superman dive to rip the flag away from his hip about 2-yards before he would have scored - I felt like something had set my right thigh ablaze! I prevented the touchdown and made no noise nor did I grimace in pain. I just got up, tossed the flag down, and trotted back to my position to continue playing. Why? I'm a guy! I may not be getting paid for this. I may not win a trophy. I may have problems walking in a few hours, but damn it - I'm out PLAYING! That's worth it's weight in gold!

So together, gimpy with her screwed up swollen foot, and me, with my ever-stiffening right leg, go home, pack up, and drive 4 hours back to our place in Pennsylvania. By bedtime last night, it hurt to straighten my leg. This morning, it was almost excruciatingly painful to do so. Sitting was the perfect position for me.

At the doctor's office, I'm told that I have a "severely strained quadriceps." Absent any bruising, she believes that it isn't torn. I need to apply heat periodically to it and work carefully to stretch it enough to keep it loose. I should take some ibuprofen before bed to help with the pain. I'm also not supposed to play football for 2-weeks (minimum). At first, I thought to myself "I'm a man. I also paid $70 to play a little more than half the games and for a jersey. I'm an athlete. I need to tough this out. I can play."

It's a nice thought, but more powerful was the caveat offered by the doctor: "Listen, it's severely strained. You're having a tough time trying to straighten your leg. I'm warning you - if you play Sunday and it tears, you'll experience pain like you can't imagine right now and you know how much it hurts today, right? Your recovery period will be a lot longer than 2-weeks."

But the season will be OVER by then! I just started to impress these guys! But I'll monitor the situation with my imaginary training staff and probably be a gametime decision on Sunday. Of course, I know how horribly it hurt playing this past Sunday and how it feels right now after doing so. Perhaps I'll just do the right thing and listen to my doctor.

Between the two of us, we're down to 2 good wheels out of 4. Gimpy and Cripple-Foot.