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ELEVEN SECONDS A Story of Tragedy, Courage, and Triumph, by Travis Roy with E.M. Swift, Warner Books, 1998, 226 pages, $20.
The book “Eleven Seconds” by Yarmouth’s Travis Roy with Sports Illustrated writer E.M. Swift is a must read for anyone with compassion.
It is the story of the Boston University hockey player who took an awkward headfirst dive into the boards just 11 seconds into the first shift of his college hockey career on Oct. 20, 1995, and cracked his fourth vertebra, leaving him a quadriplegic.
This book doesn’t just tug at the heart strings — it grabs them and yanks.
But it does so in a refreshingly honest way, without the made-for-TV sugarcoating. And despite the cruel twist of fate, it is very much a love story.
“I still love hockey,” writes Roy. “I’m not angry at the sport. I’m not angry at anything, or anyone. What I am is sad. Sad that it all ended so soon. Sad that, without a medical breakthrough, I won’t be able to teach my children what my father taught me. Sad that I won’t be able to play the game that brought me such joy anymore, a game I played better than I did anything else.”
The book chronicles Roy’s life before, during and after the injury.
It tells about his burning desire to play Division I hockey, pro hockey and for the U.S. Olympic team. It defines the endless hours he spent on the ice en route to accomplishing a long series of goals he set for himself.
There are humorous anecdotes sprinkled in among the interesting character studies of people involved in Roy’s life. The book is full of delightful moments he spent with friends.
His poignant description of the accident in the game against the University of North Dakota is riveting and unforgettable:
“The defenseman turned to retrieve the puck from the corner and I had him lined up with pretty good speed. Controlled speed. I wasn’t charging. Just before I got there, though, something happened. I can’t say what. I was too excited, perhaps. Too pumped up. Something. I don’t remember losing my balance but I deflected off him. There wasn’t the impact there should have been. Then I blacked out for a fraction of a second, no more than that.”
Roy describes feeling as if “my head had become disengaged from my body. I was turning the key in the ignition on a cold winter morning and the battery was completely dead.”
He chronicles the initial hopelessness of his condition followed by the small but significant improvements. A move from the Boston University hospital to The Shepherd Center in Atlanta provided him with a huge breakthrough.
He shares his early frustration in trying to communicate by blinking his eyes and the joy of being able to speak for the first time after the accident. Roy, who has very limited movement in his right arm, shares the first time he feeds himself — a grape — and the effort involved.
And, a major part of the book is devoted to the love of his family, his girlfriend, Maija, and “human angels” such as BU coach Jack Parker who help him battle the overwhelming obstacles in his life.
The outpouring of support for Roy ranges from NHL Hall-of-Famer Bobby Orr, who helped raise well over $100,000 for the Travis Roy Foundation, to a child who broke open his piggy bank and pledged $7.23 to the foundation, which is dedicated to research and one-on-one assistance for people with spinal cord injuries.
Roy is realistic but optimistic about his chances to regain some of the feeling he has lost. He talks about an experimental medical bridge spanning the injured vertebra in laboratory rats that enabled them to regain some of their senses.
He is adamant in his belief that a major breakthrough will occur during his lifetime.
He discusses some of the warm ovations he has received at packed receptions but tells how he would much rather be one of those healthy people in the crowd than a quadriplegic being honored for his determination and perseverance.
In one intriguing excerpt, he discusses reincarnation and the thought that as soon as he dies, he will be reincarnated back to that fateful night. Only this time, he will finish his check without injury and will continue his career.
The book evokes anger that, in this technological age, somebody hasn’t discovered a way to significantly improve the lives of quadriplegics and paraplegics.
The reader can’t help but desperately want Travis Roy to have a better way of life and can’t help but feel such respect for Roy’s desire to have his family and Maija try to lead normal lives.
The devotion of his girlfriend is particularly compelling. And BU coach Parker evolves into an important away-from-the-family confidant whose honesty and desire to keep Roy involved with the team help his recovery.
Roy’s frankness throughout the retelling is particularly evident in an excerpt about carrying the Olympic torch in 1996:
“My leg lasted five to seven minutes and, afterwards, when the reporter from 48 Hours interviewed me, I felt like I was supposed to say that carrying the Olympic torch was the best feeling in the world. That’s what he wanted. But it wasn’t the greatest feeling in the world. Not to me. The greatest feeling in the world would have been to stand up out of that chair and hug Maija.”
Later he would write that carrying the Olympic torch “felt empty and hollow.”
But the book is uplifting in many ways with several references to the need to live life to the fullest.
In describing an address to his former Tabor Academy prep school in Massachusetts after his injury, Roy writes: “I’m not the kid wearing number 24 who’s in the photograph beside the door of the BU locker room, standing at the red line, waiting for the first and only face-off of his college career. That kid was ready to take on the world. He hadn’t yet discovered that the world can be a pretty formidable opponent. That’s where I want to get back to. I’m not there yet. But I know that kid. He’s alive inside me, and I feel him trying to break out.”
We hope he will.
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