Columnists
Injuries are all in the game, yet champions come from the heart
July 28th, 2010
By Anne Stricherz
Wimbledon has always captured my attention and imagination. To me, this tourney is a cut above, and the 2009 men’s championship match proved that. When Roger Federer defeated Andy Roddick, not only did he complete the longest final in Wimbledon history, but he also became the most successful male tennis player in the history of the game when he earned his 15th Grand Slam title.
I watched in total awe as this tremendous athlete accepted his award with simple joy, total class and not in complete exhaustion. The match itself was memorable and so was one of his insights.
“How does it feel to return to the No. 1 ranking in the world as a result of this victory?” Federer was asked.
He replied: “It’s nice to have that back. I’m aware that Rafa didn’t play. Injuries are part of the game, unfortunately.”
In this colossal moment, Federer revealed a humble truth, albeit one he benefited from, as his nemesis Rafael Nadal did not enter Wimbledon due to knee injuries and tendinitis. Injuries are part of the game and the unfortunate reality of them raises many questions. Why are some athletes beleaguered by them? How do others seem to escape them?
Some athletes recover and tragically; some never do. Federer’s words stayed with me and, in some way, prepared me for a new chapter in my life.
On June 28 I was diagnosed with arrhythmogenic right ventricular dysplasia (ARVD). It is a rare, genetic, progressive heart condition that affects the right ventricle of the heart. I now have a pacemaker/defibrillator and an on-going relationship with my electro cardiologist.
You could say it is more than an injury, and it is. It is a set back and a call to a new way of living. However, like an injury, it was diagnosed, treated and will be managed for the rest of my days. In the same way that “Fed” gained from an unfortunate part of the game, it is impossible for me not to talk about all I have gained in spite of what my diagnosis has brought.
The primary insight is that the hand of God is continually at work in my life. I say this because I believe it true not only for me but for everyone. I have replayed in my mind a hundred times how what happened to me while running in Golden Gate Park could have been different. Despite that fact, I wish I had made different choices prior to running that day. I cannot help but see the larger picture. I have always believed “the Lord is the master architect.” Although I am not certain what God is building, I recognize that God is in the middle of all of this. God is lovingly leading and guiding me, even in this mess.
The second insight is the importance of being surrounded by a community of faith. For several days, I had difficulty praying. I didn’t know what I should say to God; I wasn’t in a space where I was able to listen. Fortunately, my family, friends and the community of my workplace did the “heavy lifting.” I am still humbled by the generosity, in particular the spiritual generosity of so many.
Third is the power of grace. I came to terms with my condition on the same day that a brave young woman I coached, Jill Costello died. All year, I read messages from the St. Ignatius community about her battle against Stage IV lung cancer and then swiftly yet softly, I learned of her surrender. I sat in the hospital and wondered how I could possibly pray for myself when a young woman had suffered so much more. I knew I was raising a natural question and yet I knew God was with me, even then. Luckily, that night I was able to talk to a friend who has lived with a pacemaker for many years. The next day, I found out my surgery was to be postponed. Although I did not want to stay in the hospital over the weekend, in those days of waiting, God gave me the grace to accept what my future would bring.
Such grace is a gift from God, freely given, always available to us through the sacraments. At St. Mary’s Hospital, the chaplain and I were able to discuss the beauty of Catholicism that resides in the sacramental life. Nothing was truer as I received the deeper nourishment; of Jesus in the Eucharist. And, it was overwhelming for me to receive the Sacrament of the Sick, as I think of myself as a healthy person. I almost pride myself about it. In this moment, I realized my true humanity, its limitations and its dependence on God. We are all prone to injury. They are indeed “part of the game.”
Federer put so much in perspective that day. He also said that he wasn’t playing tennis just to break records and he hopes to play the game for many more years. I share his outlook. Nine years from now I will have a new pacemaker/defibrillator and I am sure it will only be smaller and more sophisticated. With ongoing treatment, I hope to keep the scar tissue in my right ventricle at bay and I need to make smart choices.
I have hundreds of people to thank for their pure presence in the hospital. There were some true MVPs of friendship. My mother deserves her own royal box, at the very least a bow, for being and doing what she says she is supposed to do as a mother. One of my favorite gifts was the autobiography of PGA golfer John Daly: “My Life in and Out of the Rough.” Daly has battled much more than a few injuries; he has struggled throughout his life with several addictions. The motto of his story, however, is taken from a sign than hangs above the door opening onto the University of Arkansas football field. It reads: “Champions come from the heart.”
Injuries may be part of the game, but I know this is true: champions do come from the heart.
Oh, and Rafael Nadal came back from his injuries to win the 2010 Wimbledon championship!
Anne Stricherz teaches theology and coaches girls’ cross country at St. Ignatius College Preparatory in San Francisco. She can be reached at astricherz@siprep.org.
From July 30, 2010 issue of Catholic San Francisco.
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