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Dr. Stansfield pursed his lips.
“What?”
“I called what happened to River a ‘rough knock’ to the head, but that’s a gentler way of saying Traumatic Brain Injury. I understand you play football?”
“Yeah, but—”
“He’s going to University of Alabama and then the NFL,” Dad said. “He’s a once-in-a-lifetime talent.”
“I’m afraid this accident makes that precarious,” Dr. Stansfield said. “Football is a concussive sport. For River to have suffered this level of TBI sets the stage for further detrimental effects should he continue to play. Most specifically Second Impact Syndrome.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“SIS is acute brain swelling that occurs when a second concussion is sustained before there’s been a complete recovery from a previous concussion. A repeat injury can cause increased intracranial pressure, which may be difficult or impossible to control. It is, in some instances, fatal.” Dr. Stansfield folded his hands. “I understand you’re meant to start spring training in a month or so?”
I nodded while Dad’s eyes widened.
“Now, hold on. What are you saying?”
“I’m trying to give you a complete picture of your son’s TBI and its possible risks. Even if this concussion resolves, further blows to the head—as are common in sports like football—can lead to long-term problems. If you follow football, you may have heard recent studies of players developing chronic traumatic encephalopathy.”
“I know what CTE is,” Dad said. “But that’s from repeated injuries to the head. A lifetime’s worth…”
“I’m speaking of your son’s overall brain health, Mr. Whitmore. It has been compromised. My professional recommendation would be that River not play anymore football.”
I would’ve laughed if Dad hadn’t been so heartbroken.
“You don’t understand, doctor. He’s not any ordinary player. River has a gift. He’s going to—”
“Dad.” I shook my head at him. “Can you give us a minute alone, Dr. Stansfield?”
“Of course.” He got to his feet. “I’ll be back to check in on you again in a few hours.”
He left and Dad glowered after him, then put on a bright smile for me. “Doctors have to say stuff like that. They give you the worst-case scenario so you don’t sue them—”
“I’m done playing football.”
A weight lifted off me as if an elephant had been sitting on my chest and finally got up and lumbered away.
“Now, hold on. Don’t let him scare you. We can get a second opinion. There’s hope.”
“No, there isn’t,” I said gently. “Because accident or no accident, I’m quitting football. This wasn’t how I wanted to tell you but…” I shook my head. “I should’ve told you years ago.”
“Years ago? What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I don’t want to go to Alabama. I don’t want to try for the NFL. I don’t want to play football.”
Dad rubbed his lips with his hand, a thousand thoughts behind his eyes. “This is nuts. Is this the head injury?” He laughed weakly. “Should we call the nurse in here? Hey, nurse…?”
Tears stung to watch his hope die right before my eyes. “Dad. It’s real. I’m so sorry. I know you wanted this so bad for me, but I don’t want it for me.”
He looked almost as dazed as if he’d been the one hit on the head. “Well…Christ, River. What do you want?”
I sucked in a deep breath, my heart pounding, but I was more exhilarated than scared.
“Holden.”
Dad blinked. “What about him?”
