Remington Brandt '20 Recruiting Profile

Immobilized and terrified, my body lays in the right back corner of the football pitch in a abnormal and grotesque position. The guttural, animal sound that broke through my throat and out of my mouth echoed into the air around me. This was the sound of the tormenting pain pulsing through my body. The kind of pain that I had only read about, until that day. The kind of excruciating pain that rings your ears, your vision becomes narrowed into a black pin-points and bile rises from the pit of your belly. Gallons of adrenalin surged through my innocent fifteen year old body, innocent of this alien pain. The grass licked my arms and my back sending crawling pulses throughout my body, lawlessly shuttering my twisted leg. The loud ring of realization of what had just happened hit me like a hard metal bus. My knees were throbbing with each beat of my heart, jolting spasms swimming throughout my body like being tossed into a bitter cold blizzard . My breathing was disobedient, I could not control the air’s rhythm into my lungs. I laid in that grass, tangled and waiting for someone to tell me it was “alright, you'll be fine,” but instead above me was the horrified faces of my teammates, choking back the sight of the monstrosity that was once was my leg.

Lets take it back a few years. Back where it all started.  

At age 6,  I discovered the joy and excitement every time I kicked a ball around my fluorescent yet overgrown backyard. Everyday I would pick up a football just to have a feel of the ball around my feet. I remember everyday I would juggle until the knuckles on my toes would become calloused and begin to bleed, as It was a constant reminder of how I would always overcome my goals no matter what I had to go through in order to achieve it. Seven years later I was invited to play in what is known to be one of the biggest youth tournaments in the world in Gothenburg Sweden. I recall the names being called out all chopped up in there individual syllables,  or at least that is how I remembered it. The suspense of hearing the ‘R’ in the name gave me the craze that I soon loved  and was ambitious for another 3 years. I played for a team representing my beloved Country of Thailand  and most of all, ourselves. This tournament felt different to all of the past tournaments I’ve ever had. It felt more important than all the others. Singapore, Phuket, London, Japan, Italy,  all of these countries felt insignificant compared to this tournament in Sweden, The Gothia Cup. My team was an extension of my family, a family that followed me into the long decent that was soon to come. 

January 14th 2017, BEC TERO vs THAI AIR-FORCE 

In the typical Thailand football fashion, our match was In the middle of nowhere. It felt like a normal, habitual weekend; hot and humid but with a sick and thickening breeze. In the warmup something just didn't feel right. I felt a creep of trepidation or perhaps a premonition . I still don't know what it is to this day, anxiety or perhaps pre-match jitters,  but it was definitely foreboding. After the warmup the loud call of the coach brought us all in for report and positioning. “Remy, Left Back” my coach directed. I clearly nodded and I walked towards the hall. In a professional  manner I began to analyze and judge the opposition. Looking down the line I see a 6 foot giant tower over my teammates. As I was one of the smaller ones in the team, the uneasiness  put a choke hold on me. The pumping music started playing for the team to begin to walk out of the hall onto the pitch. My purposeful ‘slow’ jog into my positions felt too fast now that I recall it. I wanted to persuade my brain that I had nothing to fear, I knew my job on the pitch and I knew I was capable of out smarting my opponent. The whistle bellowed obstreperously beginning the match. 

The first half began with a few breakaways that we capitalized on, producing a 1-0 lead in the fist ten minutes. The opponent’s crowd howled with great discomposure, cursing their contempt at the referees. The second half began, and the feeling that we had this game in the bag was a righteous and deserved feeling. In the last 15 minutes of the game, my team scored another brilliant goal making the score 2-0. Recalling those final minutes, I can see the faces and body language of my opponents. Brows creased, fists tightening and the doom of loss closing in on them. Then the unthinkable happened. Having possession of the ball, my left leg firmly planted in the unkept grass, and the right leg naturally doing its assignment, the 6 foot beast was upon me before I could release the ball. The force of his thigh and knee connected perfectly with my planted left knee. My leg and knee was violently projected from its natural stationary position to a mangled and contorted wreckage.

Surge ahead a few days later. I was given one of two options by the surgeon. Option one “you can wear a cast for 8 weeks to heal the bone and ligament damage naturally, but you will never play sports again,’ Or option two, “have surgery immediately and you will play again.” Four hours later and out of the operation room, an eight inch incision, two screws and a washer to keep everything attached, a TSA card showing I have metal inside my body should the detectors identify me, I am now part human and the other part droid.

Why I’ve chosen to write of this accident? The accident defined me as an athlete and as an individual. I learned from this experience that I had the ability to overcome the pain, hours upon months of rehabilitation to wake my leg from its hibernation and most of all the ability to fight the depression that invaded my every waking moment. I realised though this experience that I am vigilant and I possess  the “power” to beat the odds whenever faced with the uncertainty of my future. 

I have understood that there is the direct path to my future and sometime there are paths that can be navigated around and yet still merge to the same stretch of highway to reaching my goals. I never give up. To quote my brother in robotic-body, the Terminator “I’ll Be Back,” I always do.