beingart

[beingart]

I come too.

Everyone is around me. I puke.

I get helped off the field.

The only way how I can explain what the feeling was is if you have ever been so drunk you stop making sense but still could make t home stumbling blindly through the streets.

But I was not drunk.

I was injured.

Badly.

Then I recall an ambulance. Doctors.

The student athletic trainer.

He was the only one who cared.

The rest were just working.

I think his name is Jordan.

I would like to thank him.

Anyways, I was told to rest.

I was pulled out of school by the school. I was pulled out of soccer by the school.

I was alone in my parents basement. In the dark.

Again.

Same ex gf comes back into the picture around this time to care for me... I will always be grateful for her even though we went our separate ways.

About three weeks after my major concussion I had to go to work to contribute and make money. I was given a temporary role in the warehouse my Dad worked at ( as an accountant and now he has a fancier title) but don’t get it twisted.

I was to be an order picker! Extremely light sensitive in a warehouse that was suppling Home Depot and Walmart with screws and hardware with good people who were working to pay the bills. I remember having migraines and eating lunch alone. I remember going to work coming home sleeping, repeat.

I remember at one stage we were running up and down the aisles in competitions as to see who was the best for one worthless prize.

Constantly told we needed to pick better, faster and smarter - those who had low numbers were shamed via exclusion and eventually asked not to return.

This practice was induced by people eager to please and people under governance being told more more more.

It was halted when a senior member of staff noticed people running in the warehouse and let the warehouse supervisor know that this was unsafe and a liability.

2014 January

I was switched into business with my own signature desperate to get back on track.

I played for the team again: 2014, 2015 & 2016 always protected, always frustrated. Trying to prove myself.

Injured.

A fake captain.

A new captain announced every year. Always a new answer.

Bitter.

Jealous.

Angry.

Upset.

Confused.

Alone.

A year or so passes. I quit the team after the 2016 season when I found all my love for soccer had been sapped.

Myself and Kennedy hung out for the very first time in late October 2016. I did a few cartwheels through the park and we had coffee at coffee culture.

I had known her since 2013 and we were friends on social media. A mutual respect was shared between us and I will

admit to being in admiration of her singing and her relentless pursuit of her passion.

March 9th 2017.

Kennedy and I start officially dating and she rekindled a love and confidence in myself that I had not been able to feel for many years.

Took my last year to graduate and enjoy school without the pressure of soccer, received my degree, started working as a teller at a bank and opened UNIPRO PAINTING COMPANY.

Which Failed.

Miserably.

But it didn’t at the beginning.

Only after Dec. 24th 2018.

[beingart]

Mid- August 2013

Preseason for everything I had ever worked for began.

I could eat hard food again, with pain, so in my head, I was good enough to play and showed up day one.

By the third training session I was named captain of the Ridgebacks.

That did not go over well with some players who were my seniors in every way except in heart.

My gf at the time broke up with me so she could enjoy uni in Quebec. It was on a bus trip to a game. Lol.

I was enrolled in Concurrent Education majoring in Applied & Industrial Mathematics Minoring in Physics.

I took to my studies well and felt like most of the work was well within my ability to slack on slack off if you know.

I played a few games before my luck had run out though.

Always over doing. Always too eager.

Playing against the University of Guelph my recap is simple. Stars.

I have seen stars a few times in my day, notably while playing football in highschool and being captain of the team as inside linebacker receiving honours as Defensive MVP.

My other positions included running back, slot receiver, backup backup quarterback, that is backup to the back up quarterback,

Oh and of course I did all the punting, field goals and kicking.

But back to the story, I always get sidetracked.

I have seen stars before and am no strangers to injuries and physical contact.

I wonder if my soccer friends remember me breaking my hand in the good old U.S.A and icing it in a hotel bathtub for 4 days at a showcase tournament?

Anyways,

I went up for a header and headed the ball.

The opposing player went up for the Sam header and headed the back of my head.

I landed on my feet. Head spinning. Stars all around me.

Shit.

Gotta focus.

Game was still going.

I saw out the remaining five minutes and went over to the student athletic therapist.

He did a quick concussion test.. stand on one foot, repeat these words after back and told me I failed and I had a concussion.

Meathead.

Who him?!

No me.

MeatBrendan. MeetBrendan.

Out until I can pass the baseline test that I had taken first day of preseason. (BrokenJawTest100%Loading)

Still schoolwork to do, pulled from practice, feeling like a failure, already having proven the senior players right in their assumptions.

I took the baseline test at the end of the week desperate to play - passed with flying colours and bingo!!! I get to play :)

Travel with the team and play against McMaster. I remember having a decent match actually... then the moment that changed my life forever occurred.

Free kick into the box - we’re attacking. I recall myself and my centre back partner lining up together to attack the back post all of us rising in a huge leap with 3 of their players and then…

Nothing.

[beingart]

I felt compelled to share this, so here we are: My Life After Highschool.

In case you cared to know my truth.

July 27th 2013

Canada, Ontario

Playing in a soccer cup game, I go up for a header and get elbowed in the face breaking my jaw.

My immediate memory is pain and lying facedown in the mud for what seemed like an eternity before play was stopped.

I remember walking with support off the field, I remember my parents screaming, crying and frantic.

I also remember no one know what to do.

That’s a lot of remembering for something that I have blocked out.

But I continue.

In a car ride in my family vehicle, I remember being in and out and having hot flashes of searing pain.

Absolutely terrified and trying to figure out if we should go to the hospital or not.

We do.

The doctor told me I broke my jaw right at the hinge with almost surgical precision.

He was admiring the break.

I was sent home.

I have zero memory of that period after.

I know I drank liquid only and I spent all of my time in the dark in the basement sleeping and taking whatever pain medication was given.

As some of you may know, I was scouted by many schools, for many sports and accepted an academic and athletic scholarship to The University of Ontario Institute of Technology which has now been rebranded to Ontario Tech.

I wanted to be local - Oshawa is my home even though I am the son of first generation immigrants from Ireland. I was born in Oshawa General Hospital.

My mother moved to Oshawa when she was 14 and my father came here with $100 and a suitcase after reconnecting with her on a holiday when he was around 20 and she was 19 or so.

They had been childhood friends and tell a story of a quick kiss that happened hind the bike sheds when they were kids in school in Dublin, Ireland.

[beingart]

All blogs start with great promise only to fizzle out thirty posts in or so and cause the reader great question.

What is it that I am reading?

Here is a clue, It’s not something you’ve ever read before.

That’s for starters.

It’s also laid out incorrectly.

And it breaks most grammar rules in perfect English.

?.For Fun.?

This blog is not suppose to have a prologue, however it thanks everyone to ever be.

Except for a few.

The known few.

BooHooBoo.

This is a story I once lived.

A piece of a piece.

A series of shorts.