Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 10, 2001 Monday came, the last day before Lucas would be allowed back on the field. He'd been crossing out the days on his calendar, counting down. Mom picked him up early from school for a doctor's appointment — she wanted him checked out before he was cleared to play. "I'm fine," Lucas said. "Can't you tell?" Lucas lifted his arm and flexed his bicep. Mom laughed. "You look incredible." Mom had decided to take him to a new doctor. "I hear he's the best," she said. "We were lucky he

could fit you in." His name was Dr. Barrett. With his blond crew cut and huge shoulders, he looked more like a linebacker than a doctor. Dr. Barrett brought Lucas into an exam room and checked him over — looking in his eyes, listening to his heart and lungs. He asked him to walk across the room with one foot in front of the other. Lucas was sure he passed all the tests. After the exam, Dr. Barrett waved Mom and Lucas back into his office. The wall was covered with framed diplomas and pictures of football players. Lucas looked at a photo of a rough- looking man in a Denver Broncos uniform. "That's Dan Brock," Dr. Barrett said. "Have you heard of him?" The name was familiar, but Lucas didn't know why. "He was All-American at the University of Wisconsin, then a third-round pick for the NFL." Dr. Barrett pointed to the next photo in the row, a big smiling man with a busted-up nose and chubby baby cheeks. "That's Tyrus Vallone," he said. "He was a star tackle at Florida State, and then he played ten

years for Green Bay." There were three other pictures on the wall. It was only the last one that Lucas recognized. "Is that Stan Walsh? Didn't he… isn't he…" He was dead. He had died just a few months ago. Uncle Benny had been upset about it — he'd played against Stan Walsh when he was a college player. Dr. Barrett nodded, seeing that Lucas knew about Stan Walsh. "He had just turned forty," the doctor said. "He had the same kind of brain disease you see in men in their eighties." Dr. Barrett pointed up at the wall, at all of the players. "All of those men are dead," he said. "They donated their brains to our lab, so we can study them. They all died because of concussions." A chill ran up and down Lucas's spine. He looked at Mom. Her eyes were wide with shock. "We used to think concussions were like sprained ankles," Dr. Barrett said. "You get dinged, you let it heal, and you're good to go. But now we know that too many concussions can actually change the brain."

"How many concussions is too many?" Mom asked. Lucas held his breath. "I would say that in an eleven-year-old boy, three concussions in two years is too many." The room was suddenly quiet. Lucas could feel the eyes of those football players looking down on him. "I can stay out another week," Lucas said. It would be torture. But he'd be back in time for the first game. "I'm sorry, Lucas," Dr. Barrett said. "But what I'm suggesting is that you never play football

again." All night Lucas argued and begged. He had a million reasons why that doctor was wrong, and he told Mom and Dad practically every single one. When that didn't work, he offered to sit out for two more weeks — then three. "Just please don't make me quit!" Finally Dad put his hands on Lucas's shoulders. "Lucas," Dad said in a soft voice. "Football is a game. I know you love it. But it is just a game." A game. Of course Lucas knew that. But that game was the most important thing in his life. What would he do without his team? That night he lay awake in bed for hours, thinking. It was past midnight when he realized what he needed to do. He had to see Uncle Benny. Before Mom and Dad talked to Coach. Before it was too late.

Dad left early the next morning. He was teaching a class at The Rock, the firefighter training school, across a bridge from Manhattan, on Randall's Island. Mom dropped Lucas off at the bus stop on her way to work. The minute her car disappeared, Lucas sprinted back home. He grabbed his bike and pedaled as fast as he could to the train station. He caught the 7:17 with one minute to spare. Lucas knew how wrong this was — to skip school, to sneak into the city without Mom and Dad knowing. But right then, none of that mattered. He had to see Uncle Benny. Somehow, Uncle Benny would make this right.