This was the place where his dreams went to die: Surrounded by the royal blue Pacific, bright Hawaiian skies, powder-white sand, posh pools and palm trees. "Best sunsets in the world," Keith Sims remembers, until he couldn't focus on sunsets anymore.
Yes, it was there, at Maui's Grand Wailea, a fountain-laden, four-star resort where Sims first felt a tingle in his left ankle _ the same one that had been reconstructed. It was there, surrounded by luxury and fame and heaven on Earth, that his body didn't care. It was there back in 2001 at a union meeting when, unbeknownst to the former Miami Dolphins guard, his career would end with something as simple as walking up a hill.
That was when the burning started.
When it didn't stop, he called his doctor in New York, who told Sims to make the 10-plus hour flight and get his ankle examined immediately. He did, and an X-ray showed Sims was suffering from a loose bone spur. He just needed to have it removed and everything would be fine, he thought. But about 30 minutes into the surgery, the doctor left the operating room and approached Sims' wife.
"I know you thought this was an outpatient surgery," he told her, "but you need to go get a room.
"It's like a bowl of spaghetti in there."
Sims' Achilles had exploded as he walked up that hill. The reconstruction hadn't held, and it took 30-40 staples to put his foot back together. No amount of staples or stitches, meanwhile, could bind his shattered goal of an NFL comeback.
Sims' story isn't unique. Many NFL players have had their careers end via injury. It's part of the brutal nature of the game. And sometimes, as players know, the effects of those traumas don't show up until later in life.
That's caused some middle-aged former players to agonize, accept and ask questions. How will they feel in the coming weeks, months and years? They've absorbed stories of their declining predecessors, which "force us to confront our own mortality," Sims said. They're also forced to think back on their own ailments.
Former Dolphins quarterback Jay Fiedler, 45, endured nine surgeries during his college and pro careers and sustained a career-ending shoulder injury. Former Dolphins defensive end Jeff Cross, 51, underwent a career-ending back operation. Former Dolphin and seven-time Pro Bowl left tackle Richmond Webb, 50, was forced to retire following a repair to his left pectoral muscle. Former Dolphins receiver Oronde Gadsden, 45, also had nine surgeries. And former Dolphins running back Mark Higgs, 51, weathered multiple knee surgeries and injections to his lower back.
Now, all of them are confronting the central concern that comes with those experiences: What happens now?
As they stop moving farther from the beginning and start getting closer to the end, are they destined for deterioration and dementia? If so, will it be swift or brutal? And even if not, what about the constant dread that they could fall apart at any time?
They also have the same concerns as other middle-aged folks. About rewards and regrets. Would they do it all again?
Most players say yes, which forces two questions. First, what _ if anything _ can be done to help them if they start to lose their bodies, minds and spirits? Second, why would they do it all again given the consequences _ the depression and arthritis and heartache _ that could result?
