Lou Somogyi remembers, I’m sure Michelle Hamilton does also. I know Mike Brey remembers because he still asks me about it.
This was my world Halloween weekend of 2006. I was in Baltimore covering the ND/Navy game for Blue & Gold Illustrated. That’s about all I remember.
After the assault downtown, my brain was bleeding in multiple places, my eye socket was busted, my lung collapsed, I couldn’t have added 2+2. I spent five days in Bed 1A of Johns Hopkins Hospital ICU and more than a week total there.
My electrical circuitry didn’t work in my head. I remember spelling “music” as “musik,” knowing full well that wasn’t right, but not having a clue on how to fix it.
I remember not being able to plug a desk lamp into the wall outlet. I could see the two prongs on the electrical cord, and where they were supposed to fit, but stood no chance of finishing that simple task.
I couldn’t write for weeks (some suggest I still can’t).
Every Thanksgiving I think of that day because the following was the first story I actually wrote when I kinda recovered.
So Happy Thanksgiving everybody!
And remember, if ND beats Bowling Green 52-0 or if Michigan beats ND 45-14, it’s just a football game.
TRULY THANKFUL
I’m still not sure how it all happened – and it really doesn’t matter – but this was my world the morning of Oct. 29 when I came conscious in the Johns Hopkins Hospital intensive care unit in Baltimore.
The weekend was supposed to be just the latest Notre Dame road trip, the job perk my friends envy most. It was supposed to be a couple of days in downtown Baltimore for the Notre Dame-Navy game, fresh seafood, some nice stories and a change of scenery.
Five days of breathing tubes, IVs, X-rays, needles, cat scans and worried doctors were left out of the Baltimore brochure.
As background, I am fortunate enough to be the Notre Dame football beat writer for Blue & Gold Illustrated. My benefits include attending all games – home and away – and more importantly, health insurance.
With no warning and no memory, I was jumped and severely beaten while walking in downtown Baltimore the night of Notre Dame’s win over Navy. Mine was one of six similar but separate incidents of violent crimes that sent downtown patrons to Johns Hopkins that night. My “roommate” had a gunshot wound to his right shoulder after a robbery.
I didn’t want to be there. Half a dozen cat-scans a day kept me from leaving. I felt sorry for myself. I was surrounded by white coats but never more alone.
But as the head injuries heal at a pace that would embarrass a snail, thankfulness has invaded the self-pity.
“You’re very lucky, you have a heckuva a good head,” my doctor told me in an observation my wife and others dispute daily. In one sentence from a doctor and 40 years of existence, I finally realized how fortunate I am and how fragile life is.
My family has been terrific, no surprise there. My father drove 11 hours, stayed overnight with me in the “cozy” hospital room and drove me back 13 hours to South Bend.
My wife and mother never stopped calling, leading to a couple of extra Tylenol at times. God bless them. My young children were worried and couldn’t wait to see my busted and black eye.
Co-workers and colleagues were also worried and rallied on my behalf in many ways. The calls, letters, emails and visits never really stopped, and they all really helped. I can’t express how thankful I am to all who reached out.
And then there were the folks at Notre Dame. We all know Notre Dame, the school often projected nationally as arrogant, self-serving, greedy and cold.
Charlie Weis called me in the hospital. Mike Brey called me in the hospital, as did much of the support staff from both programs. Athletics director Kevin White shared his concern from both a personal and a professional standpoint. All may have seemed like small gestures on their end, but they were enormous on mine, and I’m forever thankful.
With football still holding championship hopes and basketball trying to set a tone for a season, I picked a helluva time to check out for a few weeks. But like Weis told me and I finally understand, this is about the bigger picture, not the USC game. A couple more kicks to the head and who knows, maybe I can’t even write my name.
The doctor said my brain circuitry is coming back. I’m starting to feel it in my thought organization and my recognition of the great job Weis has done coaching the men’s soccer team and the job Brey is doing with the Irish fencing team.
Just kidding, of course. And thankfully, I’m not quite that far gone. But on the best day to give thanks, I thought it was important to say thanks to everyone that has shared my pain.
Like a Ruben Mendoza conditioning program, my toughest time of life has hopefully made me a better person. After all, the writing doesn’t stand a chance.
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