Fall 2001

Gut Check
Coming back from a serious injury can test your character like few other experiences

By Pete Williams
Street & Smith’s Pro

Tom Gugliotta never will forget the date of March 10, 2000. That night, a teammate of the Phoenix Suns forwarded landed awkwardly on his leg, shredding the ligaments in Gugliotta’s left knee.

Gugliotta, who was 30 at the time, became yet another pro faced with a major surgery and grueling rehabilitation. These days, because of advances in medical technology, pros such as Gugliotta can bounce back relatively quickly from even the most serious injuries.

But it’s not an easy process. Pros find themselves isolated from teammates during their rehabilitation. They might wonder if they’ll ever be the same or if they’ll have the same spot on the team. They might even have to face the devastating possibility of early retirement.

For many pros, the initial injury is not just a painful experience, but also a confusing one. They might wonder how to find the best doctor. Do they have to use the one the team recommends? Where do they find the appropriate rehabilitation people? Is it all covered by insurance? Do they need to get their agents involved?

Fortunately, those questions are easily answered. Pros in the four major sports leagues - the NFL, NBA, NHL and Major League Baseball – will find there’s a well-oiled machine in place to help them through the process. The professional golf and tennis tours have similar support systems in place, although those pros are less likely to suddenly suffer serious injuries.

Since teams invest millions in their athletes, they assemble top medical staffs and build relationships with specialists around the country. Player unions negotiate all-encompassing medical plans that fully cover injuries. Pros that want a second opinion can seek out another doctor at their team’s expense.

Unlike the general public, pros do not have to worry about health coverage deductibles, mountains of paperwork and long waits to see a physician. Of course, most non-athletes do not have to worry about a ruptured knee or elbow destroying a lucrative career.

Most pros that have gone through the experience say the worst part is not the initial injury, but the rehabilitation and the uncertainty of the next few months.

Gugliotta had to wait 10 weeks after surgery before he could walk without crutches. It was seven months before he could jog. He spent long hours working with therapists performing agonizing exercises to regain the range of motion in the knee.

“The rehab is torture,” says Gugiliotta, who made it back to the NBA within a year. “It’s tedious and painful and when you don’t see progress you get frustrated. You find yourself setting minor goals. I remember early on I set a goal that I wanted to feel just one percent better at the end of the week.”

Atlanta Braves pitcher John Smoltz, who underwent surgery a week after Gugliotta to repair a torn ligament in his right elbow and missed the entire 2000 season, said he found it frustrating not having an outlet for his competitive juices. A scratch golfer, he hit the links even more.

“I knew I had a physical problem that would take time to heal,” Smoltz says. “But I wasn’t prepared for the mental part of missing the competition. The only thing I really had was golf and so that’s what I used to deal with things.”

Smoltz underwent “Tommy John” surgery, named for the former pitcher who first underwent the procedure. Smoltz found it helpful to talk with other players, including two teammates, who had undergone the surgery. He even tracked down John, who had pitched successfully for 13 years after having the procedure at the same age (32) as Smoltz.

“Here’s a guy who had gone through it at a time when they didn’t have the technology and the knowledge that they do today,” Smoltz says. “It helps to talk to other people who have undergone this and to realize that what you’re feeling is normal.”

Todd Stottlemyre did not have that luxury. In 1999, the Arizona Diamondbacks pitcher tore the rotator cuff and the labrum in his throwing arm just three days before his 34 th birthday. Stottlemyre did not want to undergo surgery, knowing rotator rehabilitation sometimes takes up to two years. He knew pitchers who had undergone the surgery earlier in their careers and had never been the same.

No pitcher ever had returned from a rotator cuff injury without undergoing surgery. David Zeman, one of the Diamondbacks’ physicians, laid out the options. Stottlemyre could rehabilitate the injury, but he’d have to deal with the possibility of his career coming to an end at any time.

Stottlemyre chose rehab. Zeman and the team’s trainers put together a rehab program where Stottlemyre built up the muscles around the rotator cuff and strengthened his legs to absorb more of the stress of pitching. Within three months, Stottlemyre became the first pitcher with a torn rotator and labrum to return to the mound without surgery.

While the experiment seems to be working, Stottlemyre has been hampered during the last year by an unrelated elbow injury. Even though he has more than enough money to retire, he’s been motivated by a burning passion to continue playing. That’s what keeps him pushing through agonizing rehab.

“I still get to wear a Major League uniform and that far outweighs everything else,” he says. “I just think back to the doctors telling me that I might have thrown my last pitch. Suddenly I felt like I had one foot out of the game. That’s what keeps me going.”

A career-ending injury can have serious financial implications for a pro, especially a younger one. But a pro in the midst of a multi-year deal will receive the balance of the contract. Teams typically take out insurance policies that guard against such injuries.

The New Jersey Nets, for instance, will receive 80 percent of the remaining $60 million they owe Jayson Williams from an insurance company after the center was forced to retire because of knee injuries. The Baltimore Orioles will receive more than $27 million to cover much of what they owe Albert Belle, who no longer can play because of a degenerative right hip.

Belle and Williams, along with Gugliotta, Smoltz and Stottlemyre, were financially set for life before their injuries. But Anthony Poindexter, a defensive back for the Baltimore Ravens, was in a far worse predicament when he tore three of the four ligaments in his left knee in 1998.

Poindexter, who could have turned pro after his junior year at the University of Virginia, returned for his senior season and was projected as a first round pick in the 1999 draft before the injury. Instead, he was selected by Baltimore in the seventh round.

Like many top college players, Poindexter had signed up for a $1 million disability policy from Lloyd’s of London offered by the NCAA. Poindexter could collect the money so long as he did not pursue a career in the NFL. He could try out for teams, but once he played in a regular season game, the money was off the table.

Poindexter kept his options open as long as possible. He rebuilt the injured knee with the help of a trainer that had worked with wide receiver Jerry Rice. He spent the 1999 season on the Ravens inactive squad, then voided the Lloyd’s policy by playing in 2000.

Poindexter has yet to make $1 million professionally and there’s no guarantee that he will, but he says the chance to contribute to a Super Bowl champion last year and pursue a dream makes the risk worthwhile.

“It was a risk, but I figured I was a young guy with a college degree to fall back on,” he says. “I didn’t want to look back years from now and wonder what if I had pursued it. Hopefully I’ll make things up financially.”

Poindexter says one of the greatest rewards is feeling like a member of the team again. Most pros say they can’t help but feel like outsiders while they recover from injuries. If they come to games and practices, they might get criticized for fans, teammates and the media for not devoting enough time to rehabilitation. But if they stay away, they’re accused of not supporting the team.

“I can see why guys just disappear completely,” Smoltz says. “You’re focused on trying to get back and every time you come to the game you’re reminded that there’s nothing you can do for the team. You try and be there as much as you can for the team, but then you’re called a high-priced cheerleader. I know people just mean it in jest, but it’s tough to handle. Sometimes you feel like a one-man island.”

Tampa Bay Devil Rays pitcher Wilson Alvarez, who like Smoltz missed the 2000 season after rotator cuff surgery, agrees. “Sometimes I’d ask myself, ‘what am I doing here?’ It’s hard to feel like part of the team.”

Gugliotta said it helped that he could turn to his wife Nikki, a competitive cyclist who understands the ups and downs of injuries. He also realized that the more effort he put into his rehabilitation, the sooner he’d return and the less likely he’d have chronic knee problems in the future.

“Trainers always say that the people who go through the most pain now will experience the least amount later,” Gugliotta says. “Whenever athletes turn to me for advice, I just tell them to do as much as you can, every day. Things will get better and you will be able to continue your career.”

© Copyright 2001 Street & Smith’s Pro