How that feel: you watch in wonder. You watch and wonder. What's it like to get hit in the eye with a puck? Almost throw a perfect game ? Be a long snapper?

Sporting News, The, July 12, 2004

... to spit Chiclets

By Colin White Devils defenseman

I'd chipped teeth as a kid, but I never lost a tooth until the 2000 playoffs against the Flyers. That's when I lost my two front top teeth.

When it happened, I knew immediately they were gone. I could taste it. It's like chewing on glass when your teeth are in your mouth. You're pretty much spitting teeth when it happens.

When a tooth is broken in half, you get those cold and hot flashes, and adrenaline doesn't overcome that pain. It's something you can get through for the night of the game, but I wouldn't want to be sitting around three or four days like that. You feel it every time you take a breath.--K.Y.

... to go out on an artificial limb?

By Neil Parry former San Jose State football player

Football was my first love. It was the reason I went to college--to walk on to the team. I knew I wasn't a superstar hound for the NFL, but football was my life. If you know that, then you might understand better why I was so determined to do what I did.

One of my teammates roiled over my right leg during a game against UTEP on October 23, 2000, my sophomore season, hyperextending my knee and breaking my leg mid-calf. A few days later, doctors discovered an infection in my leg and were forced to amputate it about 7 inches below the knee.

I was pissed. I felt like I had been cheated. Not only was I losing my leg, but I had come to San Jose State to play four years of football, I wanted my college career to end on my own terms, not because of some crazy injury.

Rehab was so slow. I was given a prosthetic leg, and told I could take five steps one day. The next day, I was allowed six. I wanted to just throw my leg on and start running again. I felt like I should be able to do everything like I had before, but my leg was telling me different. It took me until March before I felt like I could live a normal life again, when I could lift weights and run on a treadmill.

While I was rehabbing in California, my brother, Josh, who had played with me at San Jose State, was trying to make the Philadelphia Eagles. We always had been best friends, and he and I made a pact: We would play for each other. My brother helped me believe I actually could play for San Jose State again.

Everyone was very supportive of my decision to return, with a few exceptions. A few people wrote letters to the newspapers, saying I was stupid for trying to play again and I was just going to stink it up and re-injure myself. I cut those letters out of the paper and still keep them in my wallet. Every once in a while I'll look at them and think, "So, how do you like me now?"

Last season, after three years and 25 operations, I finally was ready to play. I told the coaches I didn't want it to be a one-play, ceremonial deal. I wanted to earn a spot on the team and be out there every play that I could. The first day I came back in practice, nobody knew if they should hit me or not. An amputee had never been on a Division I-A team that played a position other than kicker. Everyone was tentative. But after the first few plays, I felt like one of the guys out there, and everyone else started feeling that way, too. It felt great to play the game again.