Tae Kwon Do and Leaping into the ER
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It was 1974, and I was one of the senior students at a Tae Kwon Do school in Scottsdale, Arizona. Our instructor, Master Chae-Won Park, was fond of “confidence-building” exercises. One of these was a version of leap frog.
Instead of bending over with hands upon knees, the leapt-overs would stand up straight with hands on their hips. The leapers would take a nice running start and grab them by the shoulders to help boost their leaps over their heads.
That particular night, another student, Bill Pride, and I were the two most senior people present. As there were some outside visitors watching, everyone wanted to look good. Someone, it may have been me, said, “Bill, let’s give them a show. I’ll jump over you.” At a bit over six feet, Bill was usually the leaper and I, at 5’9”, the leap-ee.
“OK” Bill quickly agreed.
That particular school, instead of a selection of mats for falling practice had the entire floor padded with strips of high-density foam with canvas stretched edge-to-edge over it. So hard landings were not often a problem.
When our turn came, I backed up a couple of meters extra and with a loud Ki-a (the martial arts yell) charged Bill’s back. At top speed I yanked down on his shoulders and I launched myself with my legs. Later, people watching said they had never seen me jump so high. I easily cleared Bill’s head and landed perfectly, I thought. Unfortunately one of the padding strips had moved until it overlapped another one, making an uneven spot on the floor. Even with many square meters of landing room, my left foot came down on that spot. I performed the famous martial arts move called “ass over teakettle” perfectly and came to rest doubled up from the pain in my left knee.
Master Park was there and asked “You bad hurt?” (His English was somewhat Yoda-like) My first thought was, “Has anyone ever been hurt good?”
I was helped off the floor and took a seat among the gaping spectators. We had a small refrigerator and a bag of ice was produced for my knee. I sat out the rest of the class with it on the knee.
By the time class was over, it didn’t feel too bad, a little stiff, but not very painful. “Hmm, I may have gotten off lightly and provided some entertainment for the visitors,” I thought.
I was able to walk to my car OK and drove home. Where I took a couple of aspirin and went to bed, thinking all would be well by morning.
Morning arrived for me at about 2:00 AM. There was a bass drum inside my knee beating out a quick march rhythm. I looked down and someone seemed to have inserted a football (American style) under the skin around my knee.
I woke my wife and said, “Wake up, we’re going to the ER.”
To her credit, she did not say, “What stupid thing have you done now?”
Mesa General Hospital was only a few blocks away so we headed there. I was seen almost immediately after I showed them my IBM medical card and they knew they would be paid. As always in ER situations where you are conscious, coherent, and not bleeding heavily, the doctor asked, “How did you do this?”
Not wanted to admit what had really hapened, I said, “mumble, mumble, cough.”
“What?” How?”
“Mumblety mumble hack, hack.”
“Sir, we can treat you better if we know exactly what happened.”
Surrendering, I admitted it was a form of leapfrog. The doctor looked at me with mixed astonishment, amusement, and disbelief. “Leapfrog?”
He turned to a nurse and said, “Hey Hoolihan” (not her real name) “This guy hurt himself playing leapfrog!”
I quickly explained it was a different kind used only in top-secret martial arts training. (Riiiiggghhhhtt!)
The doctor shook his head and muttered something about “Damn over-age jocks.” As I was only 32 at the time, I felt that was a bit uncalled for. After enough of the staff had come over to marvel at someone inept enough to hurt themselves badly enough to go to the ER playing leapfrog, they finally decided to list it as an athletic injury. “No one would believe leapfrog anyway.” Hot Lips said.
I spent the next week on crutches and had to explain to my manager at IBM why I couldn’t be out crawling around under broken computers, sorters, and key punches for a while.
His only comment was “Leapfrog?” Really? Seriously?”
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You are also a catanquerous old fart. But we still love you just the same. I can imagine you doing something like that. You should have brought your Oreos with you.
I am so so tempted to laugh at you but, given your ability in Tae Kwon Do perhaps I won’t…at least only quietly 😉
‘giggle’…’smirk’….SORRY!….’guffaw!’….I’ll run away now….
My ability at leapfrog has deteriorated markedly due to advancing age, common sense, and yet another injury to the same knee.
In any case, none of this was my fault unless you count the irresistible urge to show off as a fault.