The moment his crumpled body hit the Steelers' sideline, the players nearby emphatically motioned for help. Pat White lay there, face-down and arms beside his body like he was shot. I first believed him ill-prepared for the hit, not readying his posture for a sideline impact, but after seeing the replay, he did in fact get as low as possible.
Queue the ballet of trainers, medics, stretchers and golf carts. Miami's training staff are undoubtedly among the best in any medical field: just ask Marc Bouniconti. I stared in vain, searching for some sign that Pat was OK. He was moving his limbs, albeit slowly. As he was carted off, I was extremely disappointed that he didn't throw up the universal sign for hope: the thumbs up.
Meanwhile, here's a related observation that I thought interesting: the same haters that were disgusted by Tim Tebow's post-game thanks to God were strangely silent when the players in this game gathered in circles to send out prayers for their fallen comrade. I'll admit that I made lame jokes about White's misfortune, commenting rather crudely on the violence; attempting to cope with the possible paralyzing of a player on my favorite team in a way not unlike a policeman might joke about an unlucky jaywalker. But they ridiculed the Florida captain, as if Tebow was the first athlete ever to thank his Deity after winning. The exchange went something like this:
Douche #1: "Did you see Tim Tebow's speech after he singlehandedly beat the shit out of the Bearcats?"
Douche #2: "Yep."
Douche #1: "Tsk. Are you a religious guy?"
Douche #2: "Nope. Why?"
Douche #1: "It's just that, I don't think God cares who wins a football game."
Douche #2: "Yeah, right? Hail Satan!"
[ devil horns high-five ]
To me, this is the equivalency of someone disqualifying their bigotries before uttering a racial slur. We've all heard them at parties or at work: "I'm not racist, but...," followed by a cautious glance around the room and a hackneyed comment that would make the cast of Hee Haw blush.
Simple twats, the lot of them. What they may not realize is that when athletes thank God and/or their personal Savior, they are doing it because they are perhaps more fortunate than others. Winning competitors have lives that rival kings: women, money, respect and power. Hell, even Ryan Leaf got some top shelf tail before he even won a pro game. Joe six pack just has next Saturday to look forward to. What's wrong with taking a moment to thank the big guy upstairs?
Anyways, back to the thumbs up: Evel Knievel did it. Macho Man Randy Savage did it. Hell, even Twiglegs Theisman threw up the old "A-OK digit." I think they should review the requirements for team physicians from now on to include how to successfully get a thumbs up from your patient in situations like these. Granted White was probably scared shitless, getting his neck immobilized and his body strapped to a board, then whisked off the field to a dark tunnel full of prodding technicians. But, next time (if there IS a next time, GIVE US THE THUMBS UP, MAN!
Get well soon, you Magnificent Bastard.