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Worth It
by Mary Hobson

 Seeing Gary there, lying flat on Soldier Field, it brought back memories. Memories of the game, and of the pouring rain.
 
 I know I shouldn't have let him go out there as Joe. Maybe Gary was crazy. Maybe he was trying to live up to his childhood dream. Or maybe he was reflecting on what could have been, fixing the past in his own way. I never should have let him go out there. But with his broad shoulders and muscular frame, he could pass for Joe better than I could.
 
 I remember the game, so long ago, yet I have such vivid memories of the whole thing. The accident that ruined Gary's football career. All in that one game, Gary would never play football again.
 
 It was college, the big football game against out long time rivals. Gary was the superstar wide receiver. He was nervous about the game, and he had good reason to be. Rumor had it that the Bears had sent scouts to check him out. And who could blame them? Gary led the nation in running yards, and touchdowns. He was unstoppable. So, the Bears were checking him out, not to mention every girl in the stands.
 
 Me? I was a spectator, going for moral support. I love football, but I've never been much of a player. I did, however once play place kicker on a peewee team. I never actually kicked a field goal, but I was at  every game.
 
 As Gary's roommate, and best friend, I was there throughout his entire preparation routine. How he'd get prepared for the game. He'd call his folks, and tell them about how he was doing, eat a light dinner, jog around the track for awhile, pray, and suit up.
 
 Marcia, his ex-wife, then girlfriend, wasn't much of a football fan, but she was in the stands too. You could pick her out of the crowd as she's be the one yelling, 'Kick a homerun, Gary.' Did I mention she wasn't much of a football fan?
 
 It was a brutal game. It didn't help when it started pouring right after the first quarter. The coached couldn't afford to take Gary out. He was having the game of his life. In the first quarter alone, he had three catches, and had run over a hundred yards. I saw
 what looked like scouts from the Bears, [you know the guys in suits with notebooks and pens.] They were nodding and pointing to Gary. I had smiled. Gary had always wanted to be a pro athlete.
 
 Mud was caked all over his uniform,  rain ran all down him, and he was shivering like crazy, but anyone who really knew him, knew he was having the time of his life. He ran like a pack of Dobermans were on his tail, and jumped over defenders with ease. He was by far, the best player on the field.
 
 Then, it happened. Just a simple play. Simple.  Right. Gary ran straight down the right side of the field, and managed to get in front of his defender.
 
 The quarterback reared back and threw a spiral to Gary. A high spiral. Gary jumped higher than almost seemed humanly possible. As he was coming down, the ball cradled in his arms, an opposing player crashed into his legs. He fell awkwardly. Too awkwardly. His leg came down last, with a sharp 'crack,' and dead silence on the field.
 
 I didn't think, I just ran onto the field. Gary was in obvious pain. He clutched his leg, and was moaning more than the time we went to a frat party and got major hangovers. Gary, the stubborn guy he was, tried to get up. In short, he couldn't.
 
 The ambulance came, and they lifted him on to a stretcher. He didn't want to go, he wanted to play. But I could see the pain he was going through. Marcia and I went along for the ride.
 
 The field had been silent the whole time. As the ambulance pulled away, Gary got a standing ovation. Those who weren't clapping were praying, those who weren't praying were the cheerleaders. They were crying, mostly because they were all in love with Gary.
 
 We reached the hospital, and I called up his parents. His mother had sensed that something was wrong. She told me that the whole day she had the oddest feeling that something was wrong. Guess it was that maternal thing you hear about sometimes. They promised to come soon. I knew Gar would hate me for it. He hates it when his parents worry about him. Being an only
 child was always tough for him. He hated all the attention he got.
 
 A few hours later, after his parents arrived, we were finally allowed to see him. He looked pretty bad.
 
 Lois ran to his bed, and kissed him on the forehead. "Honey are you okay?" She had asked.
 
 Gary just nodded. The look on his face was vacant, it was blank.
 
 There was the usual, Lois Hobson, 'Football is dangerous, sweetie,' speech, and Bernie Hobson teasing Gary about hormone crazed cheerleaders tackling him. I added a few jokes into the mix, and Marcia was silent.
 
 Then the doctor came in. Then Gary's world crashed down. It wasn't a broken leg. I wish it had been a broken leg. It was much more serious. The doc said he had torn something in his leg, something vital in his leg. He said Gary could never play football again. That if he was tackled the wrong way, he could be paralyzed. All other sports were fine. Just not football.
 
 Gary looked like he wanted to cry. In my opinion, he should have. Football was as natural to him as breathing. You couldn't even imagine the pained look that came onto Gary's face. His mother hugged him, and his father squeezed his hand. He didn't even notice. One thing he didn't want, though, was pity.
 
 "Oh, God. Gary, I'm so sorry this had to happen," Lois had said.
 
 "How's Hickory holding up?" Gary had then asked. He was trying to ignore the topic. Ignore the inevitable.
 
 You wouldn't believe how many people came to see him. And how many pretty cheerleaders babied him and kissed his cheek. It was like he wasn't even aware if it, though I was, and very jealous of him.
 
 The nurse tried to shoo us out of the room. Probably so she could seduce the poor guy. I saw the looks she was giving Gary. Just as I turned to leave, Gary called me back in. Ha! He didn't want to be alone with that nurse. She granted us five minutes to talk, and shot me a nasty glare. I decided to open with a joke.
 
 "We have to stop meeting like this, Gar. Marcia's getting suspicious," I said, raising an eyebrow. Gary either chose to ignore it, or didn't hear me at all.

 "I'm not playing football anymore," Gary said softly.
 
 "Hey buddy, it's not too bad," I said, even though I knew it was.
 
 "Yes, yes, it is," Gary replied. "That's all I ever dreamed of, playing pro ball. Having forty thousand or so screaming fans, chanting my name. Playing for the Bears and breaking all the records. Leading the Bears to the playoffs and catching the winning pass in the Super Bowl. Football cards with my name on them, sneaker endorsements, MVP awards. I could have had it all."
 
 "Yeah, but accepting those awards call for a speech," I said. "And everyone knows about your fear of public speaking."
 
 "It would have been worth it," Gary replied. "My leg hurts like hell, and I don't even care. I don't care because I'll never be able to play again."
 
 I had just shrugged. "So Gary Hobson won't be the next Gale Sayers. You still have baseball."
 
 "No I don't. This leg, it won't get me very far. What about sliding into bases? What about the fact that I play catcher? All that time on my knees would tear up this leg more than it already is." Gary looked up at me.
 
 "You never know, Gar. Dreams can come true," I said. It was the corniest thing I could have ever said, yet at the same time, it was the right thing to say.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
 
 Gary limped into the bar. I was at work early, so I  was the only one there.
 
 "Still a little sore from the tackle?" I asked him as he slumped onto one of the bar stools. He dropped the paper on the counter. I considered taking a peek at  the financials, but decided against it.
 
 "A little," Gary replied, smiling sheepishly.
 
 "That was stupid," I said. "You know, and I know what could have happened. Not to mention the fact that your mom would kill me for even letting you near a football field." I was surprised at myself. I was acting responsible. How un-Chuck Fishman like. Gary could tell I was worried. Damn. I was hoping he'd think I was angry. That guy can see right through me.
 
 "I know, I know," Gary replied, rubbing the back of his neck. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar.
 
 "Was it worth it?" I asked, breaking the silence. "Living your dream?"
 
 Gary got the dreamy smile that he gets sometimes. "Yeah," he said. "It was worth it."

Email the author: Mary Hobson
 
 

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