The following is a true story. It is quite embarrassing for me, but I feel I am amongst friends so I can share this evidence that I have gotten old. This tale is fully documented by medical records, incident reports, and evidenced by a golf ball sized lump sticking out of my shoulder two and a half years later (my collar bone is now free floating).
It was a beautiful fall afternoon. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and I'm sure somewhere in this World lovers were embracing. A friend of mine was leaving the next day for another prison and he asked if I would go out to the yard and spin a few laps with him (prison speak for walking around the track BSing). There were guys playing soccer, tossing a baseball around and playing bochee ball. I had the brilliant idea to check out a Frisbee from the cage and toss it around. My friend agreed.
As with all things in prison, a simple game of Frisbee quickly went into the realm of the absurd. The tosses became harder and harder. The catches became more and more complicated. We were instantly transported to our wild and reckless youth where we could run faster, jump higher, land softer than a Stag galloping through the woods. Unfortunately reality abruptly interrupted fantasy in a very violent manner.
My friend threw a wild toss off to my left. I knew in my heart that I could catch it. Time slowed down as my toes dug into the grass. Just like a rapidly uncoiling spring, I was off. An Olympic sprinter had never experienced a better start of a race. As the Frisbee reached the apex of its arch I could see where the trajectory was going to take this piece of plastic which would soon bring me glory. I soon realized that if I was going to catch this lousy throw, which would give me emense bragging rights, I was going to have to commit fully and dive for it.
In my head I played out the next few seconds of leaping in the air, streaching out, grabbing the Frisbee with my left hand, tucking, followed by quick roll and effortlessly springing back to my feet. This is not what transpired.
Oh, I dove all right. I even streached out and caught the Frisbee. My problem came with the tucking and rolling. I realized that the pull of gravity is in direct proportion to age. At the age of 38, gravity pulls very hard indeed. In this case gravity pulled me directly onto my left shoulder which caused me not to roll, but to go ass over tea kettle ending up with my 220 pound body digging deep into the dirt.
I heard a "pop" in my inner ear followed by an intense burning sensation, which I later learned were my ligaments tearing away from my collar bone. It was not a pleasant sensation. I have since learned that this injury is quite common with Football Players, Hockey Players, and the occasional Professional Baseball Pitcher. I am fairly sure I am the first person on this Planet who has a Class III AC Ligament tear resulting from playing a game of Frisbee. This in of itself is quite spectacular when one mediates upon it.
By Ryan Erker
PO Box 888
Monroe WA, 98272
Jpay Ryan Erker 390480