I was 10 years old.
My father was in the military, and I was at the base gymnasium.
I was playing dodgeball with some kids.
We were playing it with a volleyball… on an indoor volleyball court.
I was running from another kid who was trying to hit me with the ball.
Zigging and zagging.
Juking and jerking.
No way he was going to get me.
I turned my head to see where he
was.
He was right on my tail.
I turned back so I could run even faster when…
BOOM!
My head exploded.
Then blackness.
Time ceased to exist.
Then muffled voices that sounded far, far away.
Scared voices.
Oh no!
Is he dead?
No... I think he’s unconscious.
He’s bleeding.
What should we do?
Somebody get help!
Sound
of kids running.
Then muffled adult voices.
Oh my god, what happened here!
Kids voices… we were playing dodgeball and… and… Brian... he ran into the pole.
This pole?
Yes, he ran into it face first.
Adult voice. He must have run into the part with those long bolts and screws.
Another adult voice. It looks like they punched holes in his face.
Yes, it's why he’s bleeding so badly and there are teeth on the floor.
Somebody, get some pressure on those wounds!
Here take these towels!
Adult hands and towels gently press against my face.
Adult voice. This doesn’t look good. We need to get him to the hospital.
Another voice. I'm on it. I’ll call an ambulance.
Heavy footsteps that quickly fade.
Another voice. Does anyone know his
parents?
Kid's voice. Yes, sir. His dad is here.
His dad is here… at the gym?
Yes, sir… on the handball courts.
I need one of you to run and get him. Tell him his son has been hurt.
Light footsteps that quickly fade away.
A large hand takes my hand and squeezes gently.
Another large hand pats my shoulder.
Adult voice. Hang in there buddy. We’re going to get you some help.
Then heavy footsteps
approaching fast.
Adult voice. Mr. Johnson, your son has been hurt pretty badly.
He ran into the
volleyball pole and it looks like four of the bolts punched through his face.
Someone has already gone to call an ambulance.
Dad’s voice. Man alive!
He’s bleeding pretty badly.
Yes, I know. We’ve been keeping pressure on the wounds as best we can.
Dad's
voice. By the time an ambulance gets here I could have him at the hospital.
We weren’t sure whether it was safe to move him. But it’s your call.
Dad’s voice. Time is of the essence. So, I’m going to take him.
Strong arms reach under me and bear me up.
My dad
cradles me in his arms, like a running back with two arms around the ball, and begins to run.
There’s a sensation of moving very fast.
He races through hallways and around corners.
Then we’re outside the gymnasium.
I feel my dad leaping over curbs and
weaving between cars in the parking lot.
Then a car door opens and I’m being laid on the seat inside.
The car begins moving fast.
I feel my dad's hand reaching over to stabilize me as we go around corners at high speed.
Then I’m being carried into the emergency room.
I hear my Dad explaining what happened.
Then… I’m on a table with a bright light overhead.
Doctors and nurses gather around peering at my face.
They start the process of patching and sewing me up.
Hours later, we leave the emergency room for an oral surgeon’s office.
One of the bolts had smashed through my mouth, gums and teeth.
Hours after that, and many sutures later… we were finally back at home.
With my head swaddled in gauze and bandages, I looked like a mummy.
But I would eventually recover and get on with my life.
If this story had a name, it'd be called... "I fought a pole and the pole won."
I’m sharing it because there’s a negative narrative about Black fathers these days.
There are indeed some bad Black fathers.
But there are good ones too.
Quite a few in fact.
Although they’re hard to see, I still have scars from my run-in with that
pole.
But I also have memories of a Black father who raced through a parking lot while cradling his son in his arms.
He ran with the same determination
that he did as a running back for Rutgers University, and in professional football for a few years.
