Torn ACL won't stop Westhoff
Brian Russell
Issue date: 2/5/04 Section: Sports
The scorebook is deceiving in the statistical manner in which it describes the game's final moments. It simply states that with 16 seconds remaining, senior Annie Westhoff rebounded a teammate's missed free throw and then, at 13 seconds, turned over the ball.
But what happened in those three seconds is a little more complex than a run-of-the-mill turnover. In those three seconds, Westhoff went from being a preseason All-American basketball player to being her team's gimpiest cheerleader.
A tape of the Nov. 23 women's basketball game against William Penn University (Oskaloosa, Iowa) shows what happened perfectly. There's Westhoff, lined up to the left of the free throw shooter. There's the miss with a leaping Westhoff tipping the ball toward the left corner of the court. There she goes chasing after it. There she is grabbing the ball, and there is her right knee bending grotesquely to the inside. There she is collapsing to the ground and letting the ball go out of bounds. There she is rolling on the ground in pain, and there she is, minutes later, being helped off the court.
Her diagnosis: torn anterior cruciate ligament.
To get an idea of what Westhoff felt at that moment, imagine standing with your weight supported entirely by your right leg. Then imagine somebody mistaking the outside of that knee for a softball at the end of a tee and smacking it with a baseball bat. At this point, the fact that Westhoff turned over the ball is excusable.
Two months later, and here is Westhoff, weeks removed from surgery, lying on her back on the trainer's table. Her legs are extended at 45-degree angles with her feet planted squarely against the wall in front of her. She gingerly lowers her right leg down the wall, slowly so as not to hurt it, until her knee bends to an angle that wouldn't break most pencils. She does this over and over, working to regain a range of motion most people take for granted.
This is her basketball now. Her new coach is assistant athletic trainer Eric Horning, and her new gym is the inside of the athletic training facility. The after-school activity she's played for most of her life has changed just a bit since Nov. 23, but then again, so has most of the rest of her daily life.
No longer can Westhoff walk to class at a normal, convenient pace. Now one of her friends has to give her a ride. No longer can Westhoff simply get up and get herself a drink when she's thirsty. Now one of her roommates has to get it for her. No longer can she easily get dressed in the morning. She now spends most of her time wearing the easiest thing she can put on, sweatpants. Heaven forbid she should want to go out and spend time with her friends. That's a pipe dream unless an easy-access chair will be present for her to plop down on.
Despite her present situation, Westhoff expects things will get better soon. Whereas most athletes recovering from a torn ACL recover in about six months, Westhoff and her trainer expect her to take about nine, just to be safe. By then, the numbness that remains in most of her leg will have passed, except, possibly, for a small part on the outside of her knee that might be permanently numb. By then, the softball-size swelling, stitches and four-inch scar that make the middle of her knee something Spalding would be proud of will have faded, too.
By then, Westhoff hopes to be preparing for the 2004-05 basketball season. Although she's a senior this year, by injuring her knee in only the Bulldogs' third game, she expects to obtain a medical redshirt that will allow her to return to play for the team next year.
Westhoff wants to coach basketball someday and has used these past two months as a chance to learn what it takes to be a coach and see a perspective most players never witness.
But sitting and watching is not an easy thing for Westhoff. If you go to a women's basketball game anytime for the rest of this season, look toward the end of the Truman bench. Sitting next to the trainer and the watercooler will be Westhoff. That is, unless she's up on her remaining good leg yelling at her teammates to box out or high-fiving them as they come off the court. If you still can't find her, wait for a good play on Truman's part and watch for the person doing a celebratory one-legged limp-hop in front of the Truman bench. It's an easy way to distinguish the team's gimpy cheerleader.
Westhoff hopes to distinguish herself through her actions on the court by this time next year. At that point, the rest of us will be cheering for her.