NFL Defensive End and the Burnet Emergency Room

My final night as a counselor at Camp of the Hills was a doozy. I had been working at camp all summer, every summer from 2002 through 2008, and I knew that I didn't have it in me to be in the cabins for another year. I didn't know what the future would hold, though I imagined I'd be doing some sort of behind-the-scenes work at CotH the next summer. In my mind, I needed to go out with a bang.

Each week on our final night of camp, we held a massive camper appreciation banquet, followed by the award ceremony. Each camper earns two awards, and are called forward to receive them and hug all their counselors. They are split into cabins, so the announcers read off the cabin number before going into the awards, giving each cabins' group of counselors the chance to celebrate before their campers' names are called.

First half we were a little short on counselors, so often it was just me and my friend Daniel Tomkins holding down the fort in Cabin B1. Our weekly celebratory move was a flying chest-bump whenever the emcee called out B1. Daniel was smaller than me, so we never really went all out on the chest-bump, for fear of him getting knocked into oblivion. Four weeks of celebrations, and no injuries for either of us.

Second half saw camp gain several new counselors, including Brandon Green. How can I describe him? How about by pointing you to his wikipedia page? Yeah, he definitely used to be an NFL Defensive End. He's a big dude. And he was in B1 with me and another new guy named Travis.

I informed Brandon of how our B1 celebrations went down each week, and he hesitantly agreed to try the chest-bump out with me. When B1 (also known as B-uno) was called on Friday night of Week 5, we ran towards each other, and collided. Much to my surprise and to the enjoyment of the kids watching, I bounced off of his barrel chest like a rag doll. I hit the ground, rolled a little, then jumped up and continued cheering for our cabin.

Week 6 was the same story, only a new chapter. In a kind attempt to repair my broken pride, Brandon offered to chest-bump me again, but this time he would ensure that he was the one who ended up on the ground. He pulled it off with the acting prowess of a champ, and for a brief moment, I stood over a man who had once sacked the quarterback on Monday Night Football.

The chest-bump was put in storage for Week 7, because it was the first and only time I had ever been asked to be the emcee for the awards ceremony. But in the back of my mind, I knew I had one more week to go all out.

I started convincing Brandon early, since I knew it would be a hard sell. "Dude, we should run full speed for our final chest-bump! It'd be awesome!" He was certainly hesitant, most likely because he didn't want to seriously injure me. But by the end of the week, he had reluctantly agreed to the proposition.

The emcees were finishing reading off the girls of G1 when I locked eyes with Brandon, and walked to the other side of the line. One foot on the ground, one on the wall, both hands behind me and ready to push off for maximum velocity. The emcee started to announce our cabin, but looked at Brandon and me ready to sprint, and took a few exaggerated steps out of the way. He spoke into the mic. "Give it up for B1!"

I shoved off the wall and dug in as best I could, scrambling for any extra momentum I could gain in the 25 or so feet before we would collide. Brandon had exploded off the wall, and the terror I felt made me thankful that I never played quarterback. In a matter of seconds, we were both airborne.

It's imperative that for chest-bumps, both parties arch their backs, thus presenting their chests forward for said bumping. As chest-bump experts, both Brandon and I were well aware of this need. We executed this maneuver perfectly, with one slight miscalculation.

When my 180 pound frame came into contact with him, my entire body whiplashed forward. My legs went flailing, the rest of my body flew forward, and my head snapped towards him. The head snapping forward was the bad part. Thankfully, neither of us were concussed when my chin collided with his right cheek, but something definitely gave way.

We were both knocked backward and onto the floor from the collision. We rolled around, a bit then rejoined the hug line, where we were greeted with wide-eyed counselors. Andrew Carman, a former camper of mine and good friend, was standing next to me. I was holding my chin, since it hurt so bad, but he told me to move my hands. He looked at it for a moment and said, "Drew, I can see your chin bone." By this time, I had started to bleed, so I ran to the bathroom to grab some paper towels. There I met Brandon again, who was nursing a large cut on his cheek. I hurriedly apologized, applied damp paper towels to my chin, then ran back to hug our kids.

It was apparent that the wound was not going to close on its own. After my kids had gone through the hug line, I booked it to the nurse's station, where Brandon was already being patched up. By my boss, Derick. And his boss, Mel. And one of Mel's bosses, a board member. Oops.

They chose kindness in that moment, and didn't lecture me on stupidity, though I felt like that would have been well within their rights. Instead they told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was going to the E.R. I protested, because I wanted to enjoy the last night with the kids, but they won out. Brandon and I hopped in his truck, and rolled out to the Burnet County Emergency Room.

It was a surprisingly fun trip. Brandon is a very chill person, and didn't seem that upset with me. Several times we would just look at each other and bust out laughing. Over the next five hours, I would be admitted and receive three stitches, and Brandon would be fixed up with that new-fangled cut-healing glue. We got back to camp long after movie night was over.

That chest-bump was not one of the smarter decisions I've ever been a part of, but to this day I still brag about putting an NFL player in the hospital with one hit.