bbubble_dance's Story Ideas...

Chapter Preview - Sports Medicine

'Ain't it fun? Livin in the real world?' The music flowed in my ears as I tried to ignore the pounding from above. All the fans of the infamous football teams. Excitement was their way of being supportive and showing who was better. By now I've chosen to ignore it. Washing my hands and drying them off, I turned to check to make sure I had all my supplies ready to go for any knuckle head injuries bound to come. 

The buzzer sounded and signaled the start of the game. I unplugged my headphones. Clicking on the TV to find the game, I settled into one of the comfortable seats, kicking my sneakers up and predicting what type of injuries were going to come bursting through the doors from the stadium. Both teams had a desire to win so much that even if they were hurt, they probably wouldn't show it. 

"Idiots." I mumbled to myself. While I loved football with all my heart and would play every once in awhile with my older brother and cousins, it was just stupid to ignore an injury. 

"Who do you thinks going to come in first?" Jumping a little in my seat, I turned to find none other than Ricky Hann. His curly brown hair all over the place, stupid grin. Chuckling at his question I could only shrug. I was very new to this enviorment considering I haven't been out of college for more than six months. 

An announcer was making quite a huge statement as the crowd roared. It seemed as though the game was kicking off to a good start. The one team was up by a field goal, not much, but just enough to spike even more excitement from the crowd. Then it all seemed to stop. 

"Uh-oh, it looks like number 14 is still on the ground." All my attention turned towards the screen. A wide receiver was still at the goal line, struggling to push up with his left arm. 

"Shoulder injury!" I called before Ricky could. As they tried to help him up, it was obvious he needed to sit out for the game. He waved them off, signaling he could play. Reaching for the walkie talkie we used to communicate, I buzzed in. "Get that player off the field." Watching the TV I saw Julian listening to my message. He moved over to #14 and began talking to him. Julian was our on-field responder, we decided to create a line between us with walkie talkies. It helped us get more players in after injuries. 

"He said he's fine, its just a little knocked up and sore." he buzzed back. Shaking my head I turned on my stubborn side. 

"I don't care what he says, he won't be able to play again if he continues to catch on that shoulder." Julian turned to #14 and told him probably exactly what I said. #14 then lost a little bit of his temper, probably denying he wasn't injured and demanding he play. They all do it. 

"This guys a struggle." Ricky blatantly said from behind.

I scoffed, "No kidding." It seemed as though Julian had calmed #14 down and was bringing him down to the spare locker room. "You take him." 

Ricky looked shocked at this statement. "No way!" 

"Why not?" I questioned a little irritated. "I'm new here so take him."

"So what, its probably shoulder strain, you'll be fine." He was grabbing his coat off the chair and heading for the door. #14 walked in and cringed in pain as he sat down. As he took his helmet off and placed it next to him, I chased after Ricky. 

"Wait? Where the hell are you going?" I called after him. 

"I've got a date!" Irritated and flustered I gave up and went back to #14 to examine his shoulder. When he looked at me I felt the whole world crash under me.

Brad Stinler. 

Out of all people, Brad Stinler. I had known he was a professional football player and all, but the odds of seeing him again were slim to none. Crap crap crap. Play it cool, play it cool. 

"Heyyy." I pulled out that awkward 'hey' and gave the awkward wave. 

"Hey." He waved back and cringed at the pain in his shoulder. I avoided all eye contact with him as I pulled out the medical tape from below the sink. Pulling back his sleeve, his arm muscles tensed in pain. A giant purple welt was forming on the divet of his right shoulder. Not needing to touch it, I took the ice pack out of the fridge and gently rested it on the welt. 

He reacted in pain, but I just ignored it. They all reacted but you had to move forward. When I wrapped the ice pack gently but firmly I clapped my hands to signal I was finished. He pulled his sleeve back over his shoulder, hiding any muscle. 

"Just go sit on the bench and no playing." And that would be it. That's what you told the players when you were done and you'd leave them to walk out on their own. As I was walked out to go grab a few more ice packs from the storage room to start to freeze, he remained still. When I came back he was sitting there, waiting for me. A smile crossed his lips.

"You don't remember me do you, Jesse Polk?" 

Crap.