American Football

DR Rawson • Mar 23, 2022

I've just completed my third back surgery.

It all started when I was in High School, my first year. I was minding my own business and trying to find a scheduled class. Then, suddenly, I was in front of this teacher, and he said, "Where did you come from, and why aren't you playing football?"


Startled, I responded that I was a new freshman; and I didn't know how to play football and didn't know what to do. He said, "I'm the Team coach. I'll take care of everything." Meet me in an hour on the football field. I said, O.K., but I wasn't sure I'd be there.


For the previous two years, I worked four to midnight as a cook for Nicolosi's Italian Restaurant in San Diego, and we lived in El Cajon.

A girl I liked overheard what the Coach said. She said, "It will be fun. I'm positive Mr. Nicolosi would let you start later. He has kids in high school too.


A True Life-Altering Experience.

At the moment when the Coach "found me," I was 6 ft 1 inch tall and weighed 225 pounds. As he requested, I met him on the playing field. He had me fill out paperwork that Granite Hills High School required. The coach said, "There, you will make a fine addition to the team.


Now, leave your things in a pile here, and let's run around the track. I said, "Wait, what? You never said anything about running around the track. I don't like to run." The coach said, "Follow me." So, like a robot, I began to run—one tortured step after another.


I yelled out at the coach running beside me halfway around the track. and said, "STOP, I CAN'T DO THIS."  I could say all kinds of motivational things right now, but I'm going to resist and get to the point. I played every year until 1975, and I left semi-pro football due to injuries. Let's review:


In the first game, I lost my front tooth. In another game against the Varsity team, I was stepped on by metal cleats into my right calf, producing a gaping ¾ hole that I didn't even know was bleeding. We were playing against our own Varsity Team. They were almost my size. I was on the first freshman team at Granite Hills High School in El Cajon, CA. It was a new school then.


High School

I started at a new school for me, Huntington Park High School in East Los Angeles. I was a Sophomore. I played every year in high school. Let's review those injuries.


First, I was blind-sided, and the player hit the knee, producing water under my knee cap. It lasted two weeks. There would be no football for two weeks while I recovered.


Next, I spent the entire summer running everyday backward at our favorite place to surf, Laguna Beach, CA. I hoped I would get the center linebacker position on defense if I could run as fast backward as forward. I had already secured and played as a pulling right guard on offense.


I got the position. At that point, I was 6 ft, 2 inches, and 265 pounds. After just a few great games, I had caught a perfect pass thrown by the offense. On one occasion, as I was up in the air, someone hit me just below my shoulders with my arms in the air on the left side. At precisely the same time, someone hit me just above my waist on my right side.


I didn't fumble the ball when I instantly fell to the ground, paralyzed and unable to move. The paralyzation lasted less than ten minutes. Then the pain took over as they took me to the hospital in an ambulance. I was out for two weeks of play.

Next up was a back injury that wouldn't allow me to stand up straight. It was my senior year. I was now 6 ft, 3 inches tall, and 270 lbs. We were headed to the last night game of our senior year, and scouts were there. Our team set records. We were bigger than the Los Angeles Rams team.


The trainer pulled me aside; he could see the desperation in my eyes. He said, "Look, I have some cream I can put on your front and back. It will feel like your gut's on fire, but you'll loosen up, standup, and be able to play. It's your call." Without hesitation, I said YES.

It was absolutely my best game on offense and defense. We beat our rival Wilson high school. I cracked a rib, but I started receiving letters from colleges for football scholarships two weeks later.


I played for the Air Force and then the Tacoma Tigers. I received two more hits that took me out. They were both like the hit in high school. Except, these did much more damage to my back and spine. The second time, the Doctor said, "You have two choices, you can walk or continue to play football. You'll probably never walk again if you get hit there." I choose to walk painfully from 1975 until 2015 (age 68).



There were times I couldn't walk, get out of bed or play with my children. So I took Vicodin (later, it became Hydrocodone) on a PRN (as necessary) basis.


Finally, my only option was surgery.

At age 68, I finally agreed to have my back fused. The would go from L4 to S1. It was successful. A week ago, I had another back surgery. This time they went from L2 to S1. Some of the hardware had come loose from the previous surgery. And so, what had been done before would be redone with larger screws and reinforcements in addition to the new fusion.


Unrelated to football, I sustained a neck injury to levels C3 and 4 in my neck. I managed to pull the vertebrae into and nicked the spinal cord. The injury occurred on Thursday at seven something at night, and I was operated on at 7:30 am the following day.


In summary:

Like many of you, I have children (six of them). I also have fifteen grandchildren. Two of them are built for football. At least, they look like they should. My son-in-law came to me asking what I thought about them playing football. I said, "You're their dad, but I would say NO. You see my life. You know the adjustments and accommodations I've had to make because of the choices made in my youth.


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Admiration, that’s how it began for me. My parents died at age 42 and 44 respectively. At 19 years of age, I would begin my family with a wife of two years, a 15-year-old brother, and a 13-year-old sister. The only person older than me was my Grandfather. He called me to say that I was not alone. He told me to rely on prayer. He also said, anytime I didn’t know what to do (next), give him a call. I did. Over the ensuing years, there were many calls. There were more in the beginning and less as my family, including my siblings, grew to eight (for a time). My Grandfather said, “When you call, I will give you the principle upon which to make a decision. Make no mistake, the decision will be yours and yours alone.” When he was 87 he called me from Lake Isabella where he was living. I was living in Bakersfield, CA, and was reasonably close to him. I was forty minutes away. He said, “DR, I need you to pick me up today and take me to the hospital.” I asked why, knowing he would tell me in his own time. When I arrived, he was packed and quickened his pace to get in my car. He was not a man of many words. However, on the way to the hospital, he became “chatty Kathy.” He had so much that he wanted to say to me. He could hardly speak fast enough. Included were instructions, words of wisdom and so much more. Just before we pulled into the hospital's parking lot, he stopped talking and waited for me to park. Once parked, he said, “Will you become a Mason?” I said, “You know I’m running a business that covers three states. I hardly see my wife and kids now. Why would I take on more?” Here’s what changed my life. He said, “You know all of those principles and values we’ve discussed over the years? I said, “Of course. They have made me a better man.” He said, “How would you feel about becoming a Mason if you understood that the principles and values I’ve shared, have all come from Masonry and or the Bible?” I said, “There’s no doubt, I will be a Mason.” Then he went on to tell me that he had been a Mason since he was 21 years old. How And Why I Became A Mason My wife and I met and spent the next two weeks asking deep questions. You know the ones. The hard questions you think to ask just before you get divorced. Neither of us wanted to fail, again. Our marriage has lasted almost twenty-eight years. It’s because when we committed to each other, we knew what we were getting and what we each wanted. One of those deep questions from me to her was, “My Grandfather asked and then committed me to become a Mason. I don’t know how, but, is that a problem for you?” She said, “No problem here.” I thought great, now I just have to find out how. We’d been married about a year when I told my bride, “I’ve been thinking a lot about my Grandfather and becoming a Mason. Are you still O.K. with that? The next thing she said caught me off guard. Her words were, “Why don’t you call my Dad? He’s been a Mason since 1954. He joined the original Hollywood Lodge. To my surprise, my Father-in-law, Preston M. Jones, PP, 33, PM was well known in California Masonry. He had been an Inspector for the Grand Lodge for over twenty years. He was the El Bekal Potentate in 1981, Master of the International City Lodge in 1982, President of the Scottish Rite Charity in Long Beach, CA, and Master of the Robing Room for more than twenty-five years. It didn’t take long. I asked him to be one (a Mason). Then the process began. I learned so much more than my Grandfather had led me to understand. It wasn’t long before my Father-in-law (Dad) and I were always present at Masonic activities and with our wives. July, in California, is dedicated to letting others know you’re a Mason and why. I hope this story was helpful. See you on the square.

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