Holiday season is over. Today is Sunday, tomorrow is The Epiphany and the Monday that pretty much everybody gets back to work. After New Year, everyday has been a preparation step, for tomorrow, when schools are back, all activities are on and of course adults are back at work. The girls already started their swimming, we had basketball practice yesterday and to complete all, Thanasis had a football match today.
Instead of the usual cold and rainy sidelines, this morning the boys were playing indoor football, called Footsal, and quite the treat for the parents having to watch while being indoor. So, we got up relatively early, had breakfast, jumped in the car and drove to the assigned venue: Kennet school, in Thatcham. We got there a bit early, so we watched the previous game complete, and then we took the floor, where Lloyd and the referee explained the different rules that apply in this football variation. Parents watching lazily from the sidelines, some cheering, others looking at their phones, and others chatting with their football friends.
The game started and although the difference in the teams was not that great, it seemed that the court was downhill for the opposition. Goalkeeping was not a strong attribute of the team and that made the game an easy win for the opponents and another lesson yet to be learnt for Cold Ash. Thanasis was really good. Tackling, running, marking. He had a few good runs down the line, and missed a couple of good chances to score. I was certain that he was going to score today, especially since no one else from the team seemed to be up to the task. But halfway through the first half, while chasing the ball up-court, he partly slipped and partly stepped on the ball, flew in the air for a second, landed on his left side and back, and banged his head on the hard court floor.
The whole incident took less than a second, but from the sideline, through my eyes, it was a slow-motion movie that lasted a lifetime. As soon as I heard the thud, I sprang on my feet, and ran to him. I don’t think I drew breath until I saw him sitting up and crying. Crying was good. He was conscious, but in pain. He knew me, where he was, and what happened, but his head and upper back were painful. First aid was provided. Ice, water, hand-holding, time to collect himself on the sideline.
I was worried. Not because I saw anything that could be interpreted as alarming, but because I usually worry about my loved ones. I was now standing across the court from him and my eyes and mind were pinned on him. How was he sitting, what was he doing, did he talk, did he cry, did he make a face of some sort. I was trying to interpret everything about him. Fortunately, I saw nothing alarming.
Second half, Thanasis made an effort to get back in the game, but he was not his usual self. He tripped and fell, which is normal, but that took out all the bravery that he was attempting to muster. Shortly after, coach took him out and let him rest for the rest of the game.
It was May 29th, the end of school year in 1985, and of course it was being celebrated by all children by staying outside and play until late. No homework to study, nothing to prepare fo the next day! Just play! I was 13 years old then, and the neighbourhood’s past-time at the time was the upcoming national elections, and football. The whole gang was being assembled in a vacant lot across the street from my house, where we would decide what to play: Football, “tzami”, hide-and-seek, or even embark into storytelling and jokes. That day, we chose football.
One team had two large stones for goal posts, and the other team had the side of a building, where the wall were making a nice goal-shape, and the people could park their cars. George, the opposing striker, passed around Nick, our goalkeeper, and shot the ball towards the goal. The ball rolled slowly to cross the goal line and I sprinted with all my might towards the ball, trying to prevent it from crossing the line, and prevent us from losing. I knew I was going to make it, and I did. I was there just fractions of second before the ball crossed the line, and attempted a heel-kick to stop it. Quick thinking and quick feet. I made the heel-kick. Almost. I also stepped on the ball.
The speed of my sprinting body and the spring-like reaction of the ball, threw me up in the air. Some say I did a 360 in the air, but I think it is an extended storytelling effect. The fact is that I landed with a loud thud, on my back, on the concrete floor of the building’s parking space. I felt a sharp pain in my left elbow and some general discomfort from landing on my back. My friends that I was playing with were convinced that I hid my head, but I felt no pain whatsoever on my head.
The people watching us from their balconies, left their iced coffees, their watermelon and their sunflower seeds, and made their way towards the spectacle. Me. They were offering all kinds of advice and opinions regarding the injury, and since I was just a young boy and could not prove that I did not hurt my head, I gave in to their urging, and conceded that I needed medical attention. They escorted me to my house and delivered me to my parents with clear and precise advice on what to do next, filling my parents with anxiety, questions, and a sense of urgency. The decision:
- “We must take you to the hospital”, said dad
- “But I am OK, I only hurt my arm”, I replied apologetically
- “Everybody saw you hit your head on the floor”, they insisted
- “No, they are wrong. I am fine”, I defended myself
- “We can’t risk it, we are going anyway”, they concluded
- “But tonight is the Champions Cup final…”, tried to reason
- “Let’s go, get in the car”
That was the final decision.
That night was the final between Juventus and Liverpool for the Champions Cup, a game remembered for the 39 people that found tragic death at the stands of Hasel stadium. Juventus’ victory was tainted by the tragic events that took place, and Hasel has been forever associated with one of the biggest sports tragedies of our time.
Even though I had no visible or identifiable signs of concussion, the protocol dictated that I stay under observation for at least three days. Three days in a public hospital, beginning of June in a metropolitan city in Greece. Oh joy!
The first night went by quickly since I got there late, settled in, and tired from the day, was ready to sleep. Every once in a while, nurses were waking me up to take my temperature, and to ask me the same questions:
- “Do you have a headache?”
- “Are you nauseous?”
- “Do you feel dizzy?”
The answer was always negative, but that didn’t stop them from repeating this torturous cycle. The next day went by quite quickly as well, as I spent it reading the sports newspapers that my parents brought, and trying to catch-up with my sleep from the night before. But the event that was coming up was too important to be ignored, especially in a public hospital. National elections. The party that was in power, was promising even more to the voters, in order to remain in power. And it worked, because the next day they managed to secure their position in power, and give the final blow to the future of the country. Well, that is another conversation for another day. How did that affect me? I had to stay an extra day in the hospital because there was no one to sign me out.
I can still remember my father’s frown that day. Not only he had to digest the political victory of the Socialist party, but he also had to do it in and out of a hospital. Good times!
That last night, my uncle Yiannis Papadopoulos came to visit me. He was my father’s first cousin, from their father’s side. To put it simply, my dad’s father and uncle Yiannis’ father, were brothers. He was the youngest of the cousins and everyone called him Yianakis, which means little Yiannis. Anyway, he came to visit me and started chatting with me about what I want to do when I grow up. I remember so clearly that I was thinking that the wise or proper choice would be to become an army officer. He talked to me about job security and about having to move around, but he agreed that it could be a good choice. I really enjoyed that talk, and even after all this time, I still remember it with a smile on my face. I stuck with this preference for two more years, after when I made my final decisions.
Thanasis and I came home after the game. We didn’t go to the hospital, we didn’t go to see a doctor. I used common sense, experience and my genuine interest for his wellbeing. He has been a little low key today, mostly complaining about having a headache. He also has a small bump on his head and just discovered a bruise on his left thigh, where he landed on the concrete surface. Right now he is sleeping next to me, in my bed, so that I can have the illusion of control. I am terrified with the thought of him being unwell, or being in danger, but I have to maintain a clear mind and make sound decisions. My parents decided that they would feel safer by taking me to the hospital. I felt comfortable not to, and I keep a constant eye on him.
I am learning that this is the job of the parent. I would add that this is the job of loving someone. I watch the effort that Yiota is making with her mum, and I recall my decisions when my mum was in the hospital. We want to protect the people we love. We put our hearts and minds into the act of providing support, comfort, love. Everyone with the way we know how, and to the degree that we can tolerate. Sometimes we succeed, but others we don’t. When we don’t we try something else, and then something else.
My young son had a bad day today, he gave me a scare, and I am glad that he has nothing serious. He will be up and running tomorrow, back to school, and this slight injury will be soon forgotten. How I wish all our incidents were like that…