If I Never Tore My ACL… the First, Second, or Third Time

The Third Time – August 18, 2021

If I didn’t tear my ACL the third time, I would have finished out this season likely the same why I started my college career: on the bench. I would have led from the bench, as I was already accustomed to doing, playing the supportive backup role but as a healthy player, which is arguably worse than being injured. I would have experienced the same frustrations as freshman year of not being the starter, competing without reward, and watching the rest of my class play and start. Except, I know what would have been different: I know I would not have been good enough to start, and that was not the case freshman year.

Let’s say the training on August 18, 2021, never happened. Maybe we were off that day. Maybe the weather conditions were poor. Based on my physical capabilities at the time and the trajectory of my “comeback,” there was absolutely no way this season I was going to be anywhere near as good as I once was. I knew it since the start of preseason. If there wasn’t something holding me back physically, there was always a mental barrier that kept me from progressing. I held my breath every time I landed from a jump. How is anyone supposed to be good if they’re not allowing themselves to breathe while playing? Not only would I not have been playing this season, but I would also have been healthy, and I would have sucked.

I would have had unresolved feelings about my career, more than I already have now. I would be stressed about trying to use my extra two years of eligibility, trying to determine if I should go to a D2 or D3 school that would allow me to play and delay my academic goals or try to go to a bigger school with an actual graduate engineering program and make it on the team as a walk-on. I would be embarrassed because I know I would have needed to heavily rely on my parents’ money if I wanted to keep playing. I wouldn’t know about the research I want to pursue or have any idea about the career goals I want to accomplish. I would be stuck in the short-term mindset I grew up in because every “long-term” decision was always revolved around soccer.

And the obvious: I wouldn’t need a fourth surgery.

I also wouldn’t have this picture from the day I found out I tore it again,

nor would I have this picture from the morning after the last picture was taken.

The Second Time – March 25, 2020

Since my time on this earth of almost 22 years, I confidently know of three distinct events that greatly affected my dad's old-ish adult life. One of them was when I FaceTimed him from our garage on March 25, 2020, some time mid-morning. The weather was beautiful for that time of year in Miami, humid without the suffocation, sunny without the clouds. I was sitting on the plyo box I was planning to use in my workout that was cut short. I called him stifling my sobs trying to manage the words, “Something happened. I was jumping and fell and heard two cracks. I did something wrong. I think I did something wrong.” I wouldn’t have cried with my head in my dad’s stomach that day or wrinkled the back of his freshly ironed dress shirt by clinging to it so hard with my fists. If I didn’t tear my ACL the second time, I wouldn’t have caused a piece of him to break, a piece in each of the four of us.

I wouldn’t have undergone surgery #2 and #3. I wouldn’t have had the existential crisis I had last summer about wasting most of my life on soccer instead of using it to focus on my career and academics. I argued that I could have been at UF, prioritizing my life around Greek events, tailgating and more worried about my outfits for football games than anything else. I also argued that I could have prioritized academics in high school even more so than I already did, and I could have been studying engineering at an Ivy, or a poly school, or a top 10 STEM school that I know I could have had the credentials for. But most importantly, I argued that soccer hadn’t done shit for me, and it felt like a waste of time. (Editing Grace here thinking, “what a loser smh”)

I wouldn’t have met George. During the semester my school went virtual and did not provide housing for the general student body, I moved to Baltimore to rehab from my second ACL injury with the therapists and the trainers at Loyola because it was incomparable to the care I was receiving at home. However, George’s school brought back their entire student population, so we were conveniently in Maryland (and on Bumble) during a time I wasn’t supposed to be there. And yes, I could have met him the following semester or even during the summer, but I think that’s BS. I locked his ass down at the exact time I was supposed to (he locked down mine too). And to note, aside from my family, George Yang has got to be one of the best damn people to ever be in my life, and if you know me, I don’t say that shit lightly.

I wouldn’t have gotten as close as I did to a woman named Ariko Iso. I probably would have been close with her, but not spend nearly as much time with her if I had rehabbed successfully from my first ACL injury. Ariko was my athletic trainer during my second rehab. Ariko was also the first female AT in the NFL if that speaks anything about her credentials. Ariko was also the first person from a sports environment who expressed her belief in me as a person and not just an athlete. When she left Loyola, I cried so hard, almost like she died. I wish I was joking. I didn’t know if I would be able to finish the season without her. Although the season would have been easier if she was there, the season finished regardless, didn’t it? And I’m still alive, aren’t I? Am I still a dumb ass for expecting things to go my way? All rhetorical questions.

The First Time – June 3, 2019

If I never tore my ACL… eh, who the fuck knows? I could have had the college career I worked so hard and prepared so diligently for. I could have looked my dad in the face and said, “Look mofo, I did it! We did it!” I could have had the athletic awards on my resume, but I would have had comiendo mierda for work experience (iykyk). I could have graduated college having lived my “dream”, but what an early time in life to finish living it, huh? I wouldn’t be so passionate about furthering my education on biomechanics let alone know jack about it.

Arguably, the most difficult challenge resulting from my injuries was coping with the feeling of being a burden on my parents. I have cried in college many more times than I wish to admit, but almost every single time I broke down, I called one of them. I couldn’t help it; I felt like no one else could remotely understand what I was going through. Simply put: if I never tore my ACL, I would not be as close to my parents. You develop a certain level of trust when your mother bathes your bare ass at 19, 20, and now 21 years old. You appreciate what she has to say when you cry so much, you feel like you have nothing left to give. You recognize the necessity to listen to your father, even if all your life you tried to defy him in every way, because you discover there is no one further in your corner than him. Instead of moping about your circumstances, you learn to be grateful for the incredible support system you were blessed with who will mope with you and then whip your ass into shape when you need it.

Today – December 31, 2021

So, I am obviously writing this because my fourth surgery is coming up in a week. *CUE TRUMPETS* I initially began writing this with bitter intent to speculate how much better my life could have been sans knee surgeries. Ultimately, I discovered that is exactly what it is: speculation, a true waste of time. And the fucked-up part is that although I am scared shitless about this surgery, I’m looking forward to it. I was working out the other day and thought to myself, “This surgery will be worth it. Even if I have to wait years to kick a soccer ball again, it will be worth it.” I jinxed myself when I thought over the summer that those will be the last few months of posting about my knee “journey”. I’m so stupid; my knee has become my fucking life.

I wish everyone a happy new year, only to those who read this all the way to the end, and cheers to dealing with osteoarthritis as a 21-year-old. Surgery updates to come. <3

-GKL

2021 outtakes that deserved some love