Come on girls! I breathlessly shouted to my Duke University field hockey teammates after I scored the goal that evened the score against the University of North Carolina at 1-1 late in the second half.

Nice shot, Julie, Laura Duncan, our senior captain and starting center midfielder, offered as team gathered together and waited for play to resume.

Thanks, I responded as I struggled to catch my breath.

Can you do it again? Laura asked.

You bet, I answered as the smile on my face broadened. I couldn't believe that Laura was actually counting on me to carry our team through in the final minutes of a tied game against our fiercest rival. She certainly should have had good cause for concern. lthough I was one of the only upperclassmen on the team, the goal that I had just scored had been the first of my career. During my freshman and sophomore seasons, I found myself spending the majority of my time on the bench and only playing limited minutes as a reserve forward.

We've got to get the ball back, Laura encouraged all of us. They're going to come out conservatively and play for overtime. They know that they have a deeper team than us, and they believe that they can take advantage of us in an extra period. We can't let that happen. We have to play aggressively. We have to force them to make a mistake so that we can get off another shot before the end of the game.

What do you want to do? I asked.

You keep your eyes on the midfield, Laura instructed me. Take off down the field when you see one of us make a break for the ball. If everything works out, I could be able to get you the ball in a one-on-one situation.

O.K. I responded as I tried to mask the nervousness that had begun to develop when I realized that the outcome of the game could end up on my shoulders.

You can do it, Laura calmly assured me, as she seemed to sense my apprehension.

According to plan, North Carolina cautiously controlled the ball for several minutes following my goal. This caution quickly turned to tentativeness as Laura and our other midfielders began to seriously contest the hesitant North Carolina passes. I sprinted toward the North Carolina goal when I saw Laura gain control of the ball after a particularly lazy pass. Laura saw me breaking toward the goal and lobbed a beautiful pass over the backpedaling North Carolina defenders. As I looked up field, I saw the North Carolina goalie charging toward the ball from the opposite direction from me. I realized that I would be shooting at an empty net if I could beat the goalie in the race to the ball. I probably should have tried to avoid the collision with the North Carolina goalie, but I felt like I had to score to prove something to my teammates and myself. I had to prove that I was capable of doing whatever was necessary to help the team. I'm certain that I let this desire cloud my vision, but I honestly believed that I could beat the goalie to the ball.

Unfortunately, even though we were sprinting to the ball from opposite directions, the North Carolina goalie and I arrived at the ball at precisely the same instant. My lower left leg violently collided with her lower right leg, absorbing most of the shock of the initial impact. I heard an unnatural cracking sound, similar to a dry stick being snapped in half only much louder, as I felt the bones in my lower left leg break. The force of the collision left my lying flat on my back with no feeling at all in my lower left leg.

“Oh my God! Call an ambulance!” I heard the North Carolina goalie scream out toward the sideline after she got to her feet. I felt a horrifying sensation in my lower left leg. I had never experienced a sensation even remotely similar. For a moment, I honestly believed that someone was sticking thousands of razor sharp pins and needles into my lower left leg. Instinctively, I rolled over and clutched my lower leg. Panic set in when I caught a glimpse of the leg. I could see a lump developing beneath my shin guard, half way between my knee and my ankle. Beneath that lump my leg bent grotesquely inward. I nearly became physically ill when I felt contour of my obviously broken leg with my bare hands. Following this realization, the unbearable tingling sensation transformed into absolute, incomparable pain. I closed my eyes and fell back flat onto my back, desperately clutching at the grass and screaming out in agony.

“It’s going to be alright, Julie,” Laura’s voice trembled as she and the rest of my teammates gathered to form a circle around me. “The ambulance is already here. The paramedics are going to be here in just a second.”

“My leg!” I cried out. I opened my eyes and looked to my teammates for help. They all shared a common horrified expression. Many had begun to cry as they watched me writhe in pain.

“Hang in there,” Laura tried to be strong as she knelt down beside me and grasped my right hand, but I could see tears welling up in her eyes.

“What’s her name?” I heard one of the paramedics ask as they made their way through the assembled crowd toward me.

“Julie Boggs,” I heard one my teammates answer.

“Hello, Julie. My name is Michael and this is David.” the younger of the two paramedics greeted me as he knelt down on my left side. “I’m going to check your vital signs and take a look a look at your leg while David gets a splint ready. We’ll have you out of here in a couple of minutes.”

“Please hurry.” I whispered as I looked into Michael’s eyes. “I don’t think that I can stand the pain much longer”

“Can you try to hang on for just a few more minutes?” Michael inquired as he ran his finger along my lower left leg. “We’ve got a Caucasian female with displaced fractures of her left tibia and fibula. She’s approximately 5’9” and 125 lbs.” I heard Michael explain my situation to someone over a cellular telephone.

“I’ll try,” I honestly answered as I tried to fight back tears.

“O.K., Julie. We’ve got to get your leg stabilized in a splint before we can transport you to the hospital. Before we can do that, though, we’ve got to remove your shin guard and get you out of your shoe.” Michael explained.

“Just cut it all off,” I begged.

I tightened my grip on Laura’s hand as Michael and David prepared to remove the shoe and shin guard from my left leg, and I cried out uncontrollably when they actually lifted my leg to remove my shoe and cut away my shin guard and sock. Nausea wrecked my stomach when I caught a glimpse of my bare, shattered leg after the paramedics cut away my shin guard and sock.

“That a girl,” Michael consoled me as he carefully lowered my leg back onto the ground. “You’re doing great, Julie. I just need you to hang in there for another couple of minutes while David and I get your leg into a splint for the ride to the hospital.”

“Please, just hurry and get it over with.” I pled.

“We’ll do what we can,” Michael responded sympathetically as he and David began to place the splint around my left leg. The splinting process required Michael and David to constantly manipulate my leg. With each movement I experienced the sickening feeling of my broken bones scraping together against each other. Unbearable pain originated in my lower left leg and spread out in waves over my entire body.

“Oh,” I cried out as David secured the splint’s final strap and increased the tension to ensure that it would apply constant pressure upon my leg throughout the trip to the hospital.

“The worst is over, Julie. You did great.” Michael said encouragingly. “Do you want to get out of here?” he asked as he helped David place me onto a stretcher.

“I think so.” I responded as Michael and David carefully lifted me up slowly moved toward the waiting ambulance. I had no idea about what awaited me at the Duke University Medical Center.