Daphne Baille '83 | April 14, 2016
The football spirals toward me and snaps my thumb backward. “Owww!”
“Suck it up,” Gideon orders. “Your hands were in the wrong position.”
Again I line up next to my coach, sprint seven steps, plant my left foot, pivot right and raise my hands for the ball. It jolts my thumb back even harder, and I collapse to the ground, rocking in pain.
“Get up so I can take a look,” he orders. It’s a good thing we hold our practices in the middle of a downtown park — we’re just a block from Northwestern’s emergency room.