My Football Physical
I was never good enough to be recruited by any major universities but was determined to play division 1 football. Of course, my only option was to give it a go as a walk on. The first week of practice was more of a try out to see if you could handle the physical requirements. There were lots of tests like the 225lb bench for reps, the vertical jump, the 40-yard dash; all the usual stuff. No big deal. The 8 or so walk on players were kept separate from the team during the first week of practice. At the end of that week, we were called together and given instructions for the next week, including a fitting for our uniform equipment and a requirement for a full physical. We were given a number to call to schedule our physical at the university hospital and told to let them know we were calling for a team physical for the football program.
After checking in, and waiting only a few minutes, I was escorted back to an exam room by a fairly young nurse. It is a university medical center after all. She took the usual vital signs and asked the usual pre-exam questions. She told me to take off my shirt, shoes and socks, but that I could leave on my shorts. She excused herself, letting me know the doctor would be in shortly.
"Come in," I answered to the knock on the door. In walked a youngish looking woman, maybe late 20's, who I assumed was another nurse. She introduced herself as Doctor Smith (I know, lousy made-up name to protect the "innocent") and explained that she was a resident at the university hospital and would be completing my physical. She was an awkward kind of pretty. There was something there and I imagined in the right outfit and some makeup she would be quite attractive. She looked like I imagined a lot of residents would, a bit on the tired side. It was hard to tell about her body. She looked fit, but wearing loose scrubs made the assessment more difficult. However, her face had no extra layers and was smooth in a firm way. And her lab coat did nothing to hide the fact that she had a set of firm breasts. She got my attention.
"So, you're a football player?" she asked.
"Yes, I am."
"What's your favorite position?" She asked. Quickly catching herself, or noticing the smirk on my face, she said "I mean what position do you play?"
"Inside linebacker," I said. She looked at me and said, "well, you are certainly built for it. Let's make sure you are healthy, and I will clear you to play."
She went through the normal stuff. Listening to my heart and lungs, looking in my throat, eyes, and ears. Checked my reflexes. Had me lie down and pushed around my midsection. She also had me do some stuff that I assume was neurological, like stand on one foot, close my eyes and touch my nose. Again, nothing too unusual.
"OK, everything looks good. You can get dressed while I finish up the chart." She said as she took off her exam gloves and sat in one of the chairs. I put my shirt on, leaned over to pull my socks and shoes on and sat down on the exam table, watching her scribble on the chart. She signed the bottom of the last page and seemed to be finished. She flipped back through the pages for a second or two, and after a slight hesitation, she put the chart on the desk.
She looked at me and said, "you know, I should probably check for a hernia." Having played sports my whole life, this wasn't new, and I didn't think too much of it. From my experience, most of the time this had been done while I laid on the exam table or stood while the doctor reached in my underwear to do the usual cough test. Wearing shorts, I figured it would be quick and started to lay back on the table.
