Crunching Memories From Former Special Teams Player

Most football players understand that on any given play, they could end up paralyzed like Rutgers' Eric LeGrand.

Unfortunately, that's an unwritten rule of the sport.

In a game against Army over the weekend, LeGrand --an athletic defensive tackle -- was involved in a collision that has left him paralyzed from the neck down.

LeGrand's injury is the type that not only upsets football's armchair fans but also makes players think twice about the sport's dangerous side.

I still remember the feeling.

As a special teams specialist in college, I loved returning kickoffs. It was something that I envisioned the first day I put on a Pop Warner helmet and it still pops up in my unconscious dreams as a retired-from-football adult.

Just ask my wife, who still complains that I run in my sleep.

The vision is always the same. It's after a score and the crowd is roaring. My heart is pumping so hard, I feel as if I'm having a panic attack.

That's because once the football is kicked and headed my way, I know that all eyes will be on me. It's an electric emotion that combines excitement and trepidation at the same time.

When I was a senior at the University of Southern California, my special teams coach was Steve Mariucci, who would later become a successful college and NFL head coach.

Mariucci helped me understand the key to a successful return was to never hesitate. Hit them before they hit you. Although I lacked size and wasn't a 4.3 speedster, this aggressive style worked for me but it also led to many big hits.

One memorable smash happened in 1986 in a November game against Notre Dame at Los Angeles Memorial Coliseum. USC led for most of the game but the Irish made a furious comeback in the second half. On a Notre Dame kickoff, it happened.

I caught the football and began the return near the Irish sideline. After a juke, a moment of daylight opened up and I made my move. Just when it seemed like I was headed into the open field, a mammoth Notre Dame defender ran me over in a full-speed collision.

In the near two decades that I played contact football, I was involved in countless plays that left me seeing stars. But being tough is a big part of the game and, like most players, I wanted to be known as someone who could take a hit.

This collision, however, was much different. I immediately knew that it was unlike the brutal "highlight" hits I received as a receiver against UCLA the previous week and against the Irish earlier in the game, including one that split my helmet.

C-R-A-S-H---!!!!!

Although I was on the wrong end of the collision, I knew that it was the type of hit that most football players would pay to deliver because major blows trigger cheers and hollas from teammates, coaches and fans at all levels.

All I remember now is that my mind went completely blank. No sound. No feeling. It was like an out-of-body experience from a play that happened fast and ended even faster.

Thankfully, my state of nothingness did not last long. When I came to, I was greeted with yells directly in my face by a spitting Notre Dame player, who in my unclear-state looked like a muscle-bound Woody Harrelson.

Dumb male pride made me stand. Since I didn't want the Irish to believe that they put me down, I jumped to my feet and the noise of the crowd returned to my head. No one seemed to notice that I wobbled toward the Notre Dame sideline before my teammate, Cleveland Colter, grabbed and escorted me back to the USC side of the field.

I was seriously hurt but I fooled people to think differently, especially the team trainers, who back then did not look out for head injuries like they do now.

My rationale was simple. I figured that it was my last home game in college and I would give everything I had. So even though I was totally out of it, I somehow made it back on the field for several plays.

I can only recall this now because years later, I watched a replay of the game and had an opportunity to watch the remainder of the game following the hit, even the plays I don't remember being involved in.

Something has to change. The hits and injuries keep on coming as the result of players being so much bigger, faster and stronger today.
For days after the game, I experienced terrible headaches. Since USC did not play again until New Year's Day, I didn't report the seriousness of the symptoms to the team. I rarely practiced leading up to the Citrus Bowl and played against Auburn in a slight fog.

While football players do not suffer head injuries on every play and sometimes, a team can go an entire season without dealing with post-concussion symptoms, the nature of the sport rewards contact even if the hits are violent and vicious.

That's the scary part regarding LeGrand.

He was injured making a tackle on a typical special teams play that happens several times a game.

As a member of Rutgers' kickoff coverage unit, LeGrand did his job of avoiding direct contact running down the field and made a play on Army returner Malcolm Brown.

The mistake in LeGrand's technique was lowering his helmet into the tackle, which like it or not, is an instinctual move embedded into the sport. It was a freak play, especially compared to some of the crunching hits that happened in the NFL over the same weekend.

Something has to change. The hits and injuries keep on coming as the result of players being so much bigger, faster and stronger today.

The NFL has talked about a plan of immediate suspension of players who commit helmet-to-helmet hits and against those who land blows on defenseless players. That would definitely be a good place to start.

The less that the public gets to watch replays of violent NFL and college hits, the better. But the real key will be how effective football gets to teaching proper hitting techniques at the youth, high school and even college levels.

It's going to take time to make a change in such a collision sport.