Divine Intervention
Long before football fans became aware of chronic traumatic
encephalopathy...oops!! I just broke a cardinal rule of writing - which is trying to
grab the reader's attention with a good opening line. So, if you're still with me, I will
start anew from scratch.
Back in the day
Long before football fans became aware of concussions and other brain injuries
common to many players, athletes were exposed to a number of medical issues that
were handled much differently than today. There were no certified trainers in the fall
of any of the years (1964 - 1969) in which I played football. But we did have
Assistant Coach Fred Vespa, and he came as close to an athletic trainer as anyone
could at that time.
First aid
Coach Vespa's medical kit looked more like a gargantuan tackle box, but was
adequately equipped with four dozen rolls of tape, a huge bottle containing a
thousand 500mg aspirin tablets, a pair of blood-stained scissors, some band aids,
cotton balls, Bengay (yes, that is a muscle rub ointment), and a few gallons of
antiseptic. Those germ-killers were probably either iodine, Merthiolate or
Mercurochrome (which not only stained one's skin and clothing, but some of which
have since been outlawed because toxic mercury was part of their makeup). Yes, I
did say toxic mercury.
I do remember that the antiseptics had a sting to them when applied to an open
wound, much like getting caught under a black-faced wasp nest with nowhere to run.
I think those antiseptics brought more tears to a player's eyes than any injury ever
did.
Routine diagnoses
For a sprained ankle, so swollen it resembled a ripened red delicious apple, Mr.
Vespa would wrap the ankle tightly with tape and usually say something like, "OK,
you're good to go, get back in there."
For a splitting headache, he'd grab a few of those aspirin tablets and give you just
enough water to swallow them. We weren't allowed a lot of water because it wasn't
manly to drink water during practice or a game. And, during our August football
camps, the water was as warm as the sun's center, about 10,000 degrees Celsius.
It was also obvious that the water container hadn't been clean since it was made new
at the factory. Miraculously, through God's will, no one was sickened by the black
mold lining the inside walls of the vessel.
For a pulled thigh muscle, he'd rub some of the Bengay ointment, which had a
pungent odor of menthol, into your quad and send you on a jog around the practice
field to test your readiness to go. The practice was similar for a pulled hamstring.
A badly stoved finger, bent sideways, was fixed immediately with a hard pull or jerk
from Vespa's hand. The treatment did straighten out the finger, but did little to
diminish the purple color now present in the skin surrounding the joint.
I never knew the standard management for a bee sting because I never knew anyone
that was willing to let the coaches know that he had been stung. Apparently divine
intervention prevented players from suffering anaphylactic shock if someone was
indeed allergic to a sting. No other explanation adequately suffices.
From one who knows
Because I was diagnosed with five concussions myself and probably had another
handful that were not diagnosed during my lifetime, the old treatment for being
knocked out or dazed from a hit to the head had escaped my memory until recently. I
had forgotten all about it. Duh, no kidding! No wonder! How about that!!
You see - each time someone suffers from a concussion, part of the brain becomes
detached from the inside of the skull. That just might have a slight correlation to
one's memory. Or should I say, lack of memory? Today, I tell people, "It's no wonder
I am the way I am."
The secret remedy in Vespa's medical kit
Fortunately, I never lost consciousness while playing football. I did "get my bell
rung" a few times though. You don't hear people using that description as much
today as they did 50 years ago. Not only has the description of a head injury
changed, but thank the good Lord that the treatment for a head injury has changed
quite a bit in recent times, too - divine intervention, again.
When a player was unconscious in my day, Mr. Vespa would dig into his black box
for his secret, never failing, treatment. He'd locate a glass tube (about an inch and a
quarter long) that was covered with a thick cloth material, and proceed to snap the
tube in half with his fingers. The heavy fabric covering the glass tube kept the user
from getting cut from the broken glass. He'd then take the broken tube and place it
under the nostrils of the unconscious player. When the athlete inhaled the
ingredients, known as smelling salts, he would awaken immediately.
By the way, to my knowledge, there was no salt in that miss-named remedy. The gas
emitting from the broken tube was ammonia. Ammonia, as you might know, makes
your eyes water profusely, can burn the hairs in your nostrils and can possibly
damage your sinus cavities - not to mention the fact that over-inhaling the fumes can
be fatal.
I had a few encounters of my own with the smelling salts remedy after being dazed
during practices. It felt a lot like a hot solder iron inserted deeply into your sinuses to
the point where it just falls short of burning the brain itself.
If the unconscious athlete remained comatose, Mr. Vespa would promptly break
open another tube and place it even more closely to the athlete's nostrils. I never did
see a young man not awaken after two doses of this nostril-burning remedy.
"There now, get back in there - and go get em," Coach Vespa would proclaim. The
fact that the player was indeed able to do this, could only have been because of
divine intervention, yet again.
