Counting the Days While My Mind Slips Away

by Ben Utecht

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” I said. “I can’t go out with another injury, not now, not after missing so much of the season already.” I wasn’t just being macho. I felt I owed my team and my teammates more than I had given them thus far. The Bengals gave me $2 million just to sign with the team and were paying me more than $2 million for this season. They hadn’t paid me all that money to miss seven games and to go out with another injury now. In my mind, I had not lived up to my expectations. Just under half the season remained to be played. The playoffs were out of the question, but I could still play for pride and put myself in position to make a major contribution the following year.

  Things didn’t turn out the way I had planned. I didn’t do much in the Eagles game, which ended in a tie. When the referee blew the whistle, ending the game, a lot of the players were confused as to what was going on. Most of us assumed we’d just keep playing until someone scored and won the game.

  The following week, my first time to play in Pittsburgh against the Steelers, I had one of my best games of the season. I caught everything that came my way and ended the game with three catches for thirty-six yards. One of the catches was a seam route over the middle, the very same route where I pulled up short in the Dallas game. This time I caught the ball and absorbed a huge hit afterward. Believe it or not, I needed that hit to reassure me I still had what it took to be a receiver in this league. I trotted back to the huddle with renewed self-confidence.

  But, since this was the cursed season, I got hurt the next week. I tore my plantar fascia in a game against the Ravens at home. I didn’t play again until the last game of the season. We beat the Kansas City Chiefs to finish the year 4-11-1. In that single season I experienced more losses than all my years in Indianapolis combined. The Bengals canceled our team Christmas party. No one felt much like celebrating.

  When the season ended I took a serious look at myself as a player. I made up my mind to sell myself out completely to fitness during the off-season. I was determined to come into camp in the best shape of my life. I changed my diet and cut out all empty carbs. No more desserts. No more pizza. Not even an occasional beer. I wanted to transform my body, and empty carbs weren’t going to do that. I also changed my workout routine. I even bought a workout DVD that was supposed to produce amazing results.

  The changes worked. By the time the 2009 training camp rolled around I had never been so cut, so athletically fit. My body felt better than it ever had before. I hoped it would translate into a career year on the field.

  CHAPTER 16

  ELLEORA

  PREPARING FOR THE 2009 SEASON was far from the only thing on my mind after the 2008 season ended. It wasn’t even the most important. Karyn’s due date was February 21 and the season ended on December 28. That didn’t leave us much time to get a lot done, beginning with the baby’s room. I never knew someone so small required so much specialized equipment. You don’t just buy a crib and some diapers and call it a day. We had a decorating theme for the room, plus video monitors and changing tables and a wide variety of special baby holders to carry her around in. Because we wanted to be surprised by the baby’s gender we went with a light green color scheme with cute little frogs. In fact, Elleora still is fascinated with her little stuffed froggy and it goes with her everywhere. I hadn’t been as engaged in this process as I would have liked during the season, which meant I had to make up for lost time now.

  My other job was mastering the coaching skills our labor and delivery nurse told us I needed to have for Karyn to have a completely natural childbirth experience. A teammate of mine and his wife were also expecting at this time. Our due dates were about a week apart. Karyn and I might have been able to go to a regular birth class at our hospital, but instead we hired a nurse to come to their home and hold a couple of classes for just the four of us during the season. I would like to think that this setup was ideal because it gave me the freedom to ask more questions and to really focus on my role. Unfortunately, I have no memory of that experience with my wife, our friends, or the nurse. As my wife reminded me about this experience I could vaguely recall anything. I remember being over at their home for dinner one night, but beyond that is a fog. I wanted to do everything I could to help Karyn, especially as her due date grew closer and closer. I just feel sad that I don’t have many clear memories from that time. I hope I lived up to her expectations.

  February 21 came and went and still no baby. We had no idea whether we were going to have a boy or a girl. Karyn and I were excited to be surprised, but the suspense was starting to get to me. Whichever we were having, boy or girl, seemed to be in no hurry for his or her grand entrance.

  A week passed and nothing happened. Both Karyn’s mom and my mom had come down around Karyn’s due date to help us in the event the baby’s arrival was on time. Both sets of dads planned to come down to Cincinnati as soon as the baby arrived. They were anxious to meet their first grandchild. I stuck to my exercise and eating regimen. It gave me something to focus on instead of asking Karyn every five minutes if it was “time.”

  Karyn’s doctor had told her that if she went one week over term, then they would have to induce labor. Both of us hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. We wanted the full birth experience, complete with labor pains beginning at a random moment. That’s exactly what happened. On February 28 we checked into Cincinnati’s Good Samaritan Hospital after Karyn’s contractions started on their own the night before. When the first labor pain hit I was right by Karyn’s side, doing the whole coach thing. “Breathe,” I said, and did the breathing exercises with her until the pain passed. Hours passed with little progress being made. Pains came and went and this baby still wasn’t in a big hurry.

  Finally, after ten hours of labor Karyn made a difficult choice. “Give me an epidural,” she told the labor nurse. I agreed with her decision. She was exhausted and we still had a long way to go. I dozed off for a few moments, but it wasn’t a deep sleep. Every little sound made me jump up and ask, “Are you okay?”

  At long last the time came. Karyn’s doctor came in, examined her, and told her it was time to push. Some men get squeamish in those situations. I’m not one of them. I was right there, holding on to Karyn’s hand while watching for my baby’s arrival. “One more big push,” the doctor said. The next sound I heard was my baby crying and the doctor saying, “It’s a girl.” The doctor allowed me to cut the umbilical cord, then the nurses took my girl and cleaned her up. I watched how they handled her, and frankly, it surprised me. To me this baby girl was the most fragile thing in the entire world, but the nurses almost seemed rough with her. I watched them take the little suction bottle and suck the amniotic fluid out of my daughter’s mouth and nose. It fascinated me how they did this. I couldn’t look away.

  Once they had my daughter cleaned up, the nurse placed my little girl in my arms for the first time. Tears flowed as I looked at my beautiful baby girl. It was the first time in my life I really understood John 3:16. I found myself praying, “How could You give Your Son, Lord?” Cradling my daughter in my arms I whispered, “I will never let you go.”

  “What are you going to name her?” the doctor asked.

  “Elleora,” I replied. “It means the Light of God.”

  “That’s beautiful,” the doctor said.

  “Thank you.”

  Karyn and I spent a long time holding our daughter and enjoying her. I never felt more in love with my wife. At the right time I went out and brought our mothers into the room. Karyn’s dad and brother arrived the day we brought Elleora home. My dad arrived the second day we were in the hospital with Elleora.

  Even though God blessed us with a little girl, that did not change my plans for her homecoming. On the day the hospital released us to take Elleora home, I brought in a Superman onesie. My little Kryptonian princess was going to go home in style, not in some frilly little dress. This was going to be her first fashion statement to the world, and I was going to make sure it was the right
one. Karyn laughed and said, “Sure, go ahead.” I was so proud I think I flew home.

  I didn’t fly in the car, though. There’s nothing like putting a baby into an infant seat to turn you into the world’s safest driver. We had to make one stop on our way home. Sandi Patty was in town for a Women of Faith event, so we stopped to let my second mom hold the new baby. However, we didn’t stay long. We were all anxious to get home.

  Not long after we arrived home, Karyn’s dad, Larry, and brother, Erik, arrived. They had driven straight through from Minnesota, which is nearly a twelve-hour drive. It was their first time seeing our new house so I gave them a quick tour. Karyn and her mom were upstairs giving the baby a bath. After the tour Erik, Larry, and I sat down in the living room and started talking. All of a sudden I heard a bloodcurdling shriek from Karyn’s mom. I jumped up and ran up the stairs so fast that I ran right out of my shoes. When I got to the upstairs bathroom I found Karyn in a panic holding on to Elleora. “Ben!” she cried, unable to say anything else. She didn’t have to. Our baby girl was turning purple and could not breathe.

  I grabbed Elleora from Karyn. Flipping my baby girl over on her stomach, I took the suction bottle the hospital sent home with us and did exactly what I watched the nurses do. I jammed it into her nose and started sucking out all sorts of fluid. Then I put it down her throat and did the same thing. Elleora let out a little cry, then started breathing normally like nothing had happened. Saliva or mucus or something came out of her mouth, which also showed traces of blood. However, her color returned to normal. The baby seemed fine, but we still rushed her to the emergency room at Cincinnati Children’s Hospital Medical Center, one of the best children’s hospitals in the country.

  By the time Karyn, her mom, and I arrived at the hospital it was around midnight. They admitted Elleora and started running tests. The resident doctor on call that night, Katy Clabo, guided us through the whole process. Both Karyn and I were in an absolute panic, but Dr. Clabo had such a calm, reassuring demeanor that we were able to gather ourselves. I told Karyn, “I wonder if she’s a Christian. The way she handles herself and the words she chooses make me think she must be.”

  After about two hours Dr. Clabo came back out and said, “Your baby girl is fine. She had some fluid in her lungs that caused this, but you did exactly what needed to be done, Ben. Your quick thinking saved your daughter’s life.”

  “What about the blood we sucked out?” Karyn asked.

  “We didn’t find anything. It might have been caused by the suction bottle,” Dr. Clabo replied. “But she’s fine. You can take her on home.”

  Karyn and I grabbed hold of one another and wept tears of joy. I turned to the doctor and said, “I want to thank you so much for how you handled everything tonight and just how you spoke to us. You helped the two of us so much.” Then I said something that surprised me even as the words came out of my mouth, “Dr. Clabo, I don’t know if I should do this or not, but I just feel like I am supposed to. Are you single?”

  Dr. Clabo gave a very hesitant, “Yesss.”

  “Good. My brother-in-law is in town and I would just love to introduce you to him.”

  As Dr. Clabo tells the story, I brought it up at least three times before receiving her answer. In between my multiple pursuits, Dr. Clabo was embarrassed and nervous. She really enjoyed Karyn but also didn’t want to get fired for giving out her personal information, especially for a potential date with a patient’s family. Before giving me an answer she went over to another resident and told him what was happening. The resident said to her, “Do you have any idea who that person is? He won a Super Bowl with Peyton Manning. Now go back in there, say yes, and get me some tickets!”

  In spite of the enthusiastic first piece of advice, the doctor consulted another colleague. He gave her a nod as if to say, “Go for it.” A few minutes later, to my surprise and after some serious thought and obnoxious pursuit on my part, the doctor finally answered, “I don’t usually do this but, sure. I will meet him.” Dr. Katy Clabo made sure to give her information to Karyn, with whom she’d found a connection.

  Today, Dr. Clabo is my sister-in-law. At the time of this writing she and Erik have been happily married for five years. The two of them live in Knoxville, Tennessee, where he’s an engineer for a major automobile manufacturer and she’s a pediatric ER doctor. I could write another book just about their story, but I won’t. The two of them meeting and falling in love was just the topper to an already unbelievable experience.

  My first football season in Cincinnati might have been a disaster, but welcoming my little girl into the world made all those bad feelings go away. The three of us settled into our new routines. Life was good. No, life was wonderful. I could not ask for more.

  CHAPTER 17

  THE FINAL BLOW

  8/5/09—Concussion occurred at evening practice. Symptoms included 90 sec of unconsciousness, strong headache, dizziness, tingling in hands, soar neck, sweating, sleeplessness, loss of balance, blurry vision spots, and nausea.

  —CONCUSSION SYMPTOMS JOURNAL

  WHEN I FIRST STARTED KEEPING the journal I didn’t have a book in mind. Doctors and my sports agent encouraged me to keep track of my symptoms and any changes I experienced with them. If I had thought of this book back then, I probably would have chosen stronger language for the first line. It sounds so innocuous, so minor. “A concussion occurred” doesn’t really describe what happened during the first week of Bengals training camp in August 2009.

  I spent the off-season getting my mind and body in the best shape of my life. The P90X workout routine and new diet paid off. I entered camp leaner and stronger with more muscle mass than at any time in my playing career. The disappointment of the previous season, in which we only won four games, drove a lot of my teammates to take the same approach to the off-season that I had. We knew we had a lot of talent on our squad. We were better than a 4-11-1 team and we were ready to prove it.

  There was also a lot of excitement with the team because HBO’s Hard Knocks was going to cover our camp. Hard Knocks is a reality show that gives viewers an unprecedented look inside the forming of a football team. Camera crews cover everything, from team meetings, practices, and the pre- and postgame locker room experience during the exhibition season, to the hard reality of the NFL whereby players get cut from the team and their dreams of an NFL career die. The Hard Knocks crews interview individual players and their families, because the business of football impacts every part of your life. All of us, including me, had to sign waivers giving HBO full access to whatever happened to us in camp. I guess we technically had a choice in the matter, but we really didn’t. They did tell us if there was something that we did not feel comfortable with them filming or didn’t want them to film, they would respect our wishes.

  Some of the air came out of the team on either the first or second day of camp when our primary blocking tight end, Reggie Kelly, blew out his Achilles tendon. A hard hit did not cause the injury. Like the injuries I suffered in college, he was just running a route when all of the sudden he pulled up to a stop and started hopping on one leg, in obvious pain. Just like that his season was over. The team doctor broke the news to Reggie that he needed surgery that carried a six-to-eight-month recovery time. The Bengals placed him on the injured reserved (IR) list, which meant he remained a part of the team and was going to be paid for the rest of the season. However, once you are placed on IR you cannot return to the active roster that season.

  After Reggie went down I knew I was going to have to fill his shoes. I was already a starter in our two-tight-end packages. But the team now needed me to do more than catch more passes. I had to step up and lead. To me, that’s why they had signed me to such a big contract the year before. I felt I was ready for the challenge, even though no one was really going to take Reggie’s place. He was a ten-year veteran, clubhouse leader, and one of the strongest men of God I have ever met. However, Carson made me feel better. He told the Hard Knocks crew, “We’ll be okay
. We have Ben Utecht and Ben has some of the best hands in the NFL.”

  The day after Reggie blew out his Achilles, I mean the very next day, we went through a routine offensive line blocking drill called half line. As the name implies, half of the offensive line goes up against half of the defensive line. I lined up on the right side. The play called for me to release and block the outside linebacker. I have little memory of the day, much less the play, so much of this information comes from the guys who were there and the practice film I later watched. Apparently I took on the linebacker in a run blocking scheme. When you block, you want to get low under them. At six feet seven, getting low can be a challenge. On this play, the linebacker got lower than me. As he did, his helmet came up under my face mask and hit me on the chin like a Muhammad Ali uppercut.

  And just like Sonny Liston when he boxed against Ali, I was out.

  Play suddenly stopped. Coaches and trainers and camera crews came running over to where I lay on the ground unconscious. On the opposite side of the field a camera focused in on Carson. He didn’t know what had happened. When he saw someone on the ground he asked, “Is that Utecht? Is his wife here? Are his wife and daughter in the stands?”

  I came to before the ambulance arrived. Hard Knocks showed several players come over at different times and put a hand on my leg, praying for me. Then the players moved back to give paramedics room. Wide receiver Chad Ochocinco, formerly Chad Johnson, kneeled down near me on one knee and prayed. Chad was one of the biggest characters in the NFL, but he also had a big heart and cared for his teammates.

  Paramedics removed my face mask but left my helmet and pads on me out of fear of a neck or spinal injury. They strapped me onto a backboard, then lifted me onto a gurney and wheeled me into the ambulance. The emergency room doctors at Georgetown Community Hospital in Georgetown, Kentucky, where we held training camp, cut off my uniform and pads. I never wore a football uniform in competition again.