Every athlete knows the feeling of watching a teammate or opponent lay motionless on the ground. There is a silence, an air of fear and a sudden realization that there is a very serious side to sports.
That feeling swept UB Stadium twice this past weekend as two Bulls fell to the turf and didn't get up.
The first was senior guard Jasen Carlson. Even from the press box I could tell Carlson's injury was more serious than a cramp or minor ankle roll. I could see him gesturing with his hands as the training staff surrounded him and he conveyed his pain.
When they showed the replay, there was only one word to describe the way his leg had been bent: scary.
As Carlson rode in the back of the cart into the locker room, it was pretty clear that he was probably never going to play for the Bulls again.
Play continued as it almost always does after a gruesome injury. It's the beautiful thing about sports: The only way to get over a gruesome sports injury is to keep playing and remind players, fans and coaches that sports are about knowing you can get injured, but continuing to play regardless.
But the feeling hadn't left UB Stadium. Not yet.
On the very next play, star senior receiver Alex Neutz went up for a deep pass, came down with it and took a big hit.
He dropped the ball and lay limp on the turf. Replays showed a Massachusetts player's shoulder pad or helmet had collided with Neutz's head. His motionless body indicated he had been knocked out.
While other media members in the press box debated over whether the defender should have been flagged for a helmet-to-helmet hit, I couldn't take my eyes off the field.
It only struck me later that reporters were debating over a game while another man's life was possibly in danger. They didn't even wait for him to get up before they began debating rules and the implications the call had for the next play.
The scariest moment of my personal sports career came when I was 17. I was a senior on the baseball team and it was late in the season.
We had a runner on third and he broke home on a wild pitch. The pitcher ran home to cover the plate and they reached their destination at the same time.
I heard a pop as they collided. It looked like the pitcher had kicked my teammate's helmet, but in the next moment I realized I was dead wrong.
As the runner got up, the pitcher let out a cry of pain.
He didn't move for most of 30 minutes. An ambulance drove onto the field to take him to the hospital.
As he had approached home plate, he had gotten tangled with the runner and twisted his leg the wrong way. The pop I heard had been his bone breaking.
Once he was in the ambulance and on his way to the hospital, the game continued. But it felt different. The pop from the broken leg lingered in everyone's memory and the usual passion that comes with the game wasn't quite there.
But it came back - the way it did at UB Stadium when senior linebacker Khalil Mack returned an interception for a touchdown as Neutz exited the field and headed into the locker room.
The fear left, and the joy returned.
email: ben.tarhan@ubspectrum.com
Photo: Paul Hokanson/UB Athletics
