When sports can’t save everyone
My friend Paul and I served together on Navy SEAL Team 5 in the early 1990s. Sadly, there was a car accident that resulted in the death of two other SEALs and Paul sustaining a traumatic brain injury (TBI).
Paul received treatment at a nearby naval hospital, which included some exercise-based therapy. However, despite his diminished state, the clinicians thought he had reached the full extent of his recovery, and he was discharged from the hospital.
Even though Paul was no longer a patient at the hospital, he was still considered to be on active duty. For this reason, he returned to our command and was expected to wait for the Navy to medically retire him.
At first glance, he looked like the Paul we always knew, but there were indications of an invisible wound that had taken its toll on our friend. Just as before, Paul had a humorous demeanor, but he struggled to carry on a meaningful conversation and his movements were uneven. He could walk but couldn’t run.
Paul’s car was destroyed in the accident, and the lease on his apartment was terminated during his lengthy hospitalization, so he set up a cot in his platoon’s Quonset hut, a familiar place he could call home.
Every morning, Paul joined us during our physical training regimen, which resulted in some improvements in his motor skills. Soon, Paul was running on the beach and swimming in the open waters of the Pacific Ocean.
His ability to converse improved only slightly, but it became apparent the routine of exercising every morning was a way to rebuild his strength and spirit. He found a renewed sense of purpose in pushing his physical limits, discovering that the intensity of his workouts could, at times, quiet the chaotic thoughts swirling in his mind due to his TBI. The routine and discipline, once integral to his life as a SEAL, provided a semblance of order in a world that had become unknown and unpredictable.
He had hoped to compete in triathlons, but Paul’s military career ended before that goal could be reached. His parents lived in Arizona and at their behest, he moved back home with them.
However, the structured environment of the Navy and the motivation he found working out with his former teammates began to fade. He stopped exercising, and a deep depression began to take hold. The vibrant, determined man his parents remembered slowly retreated into himself, lost in the fog of his injury and the emotional toll it exerted. His parents watched as their son struggled to navigate daily life, his cognitive and emotional difficulties becoming increasingly evident.
Paul’s parents were eventually appointed as his fiduciaries, responsible for managing his affairs because he could no longer care for himself. They did their best, but the complex challenges of his TBI and its lasting effects were overwhelming.
One day, Paul’s despair became too great to bear, and he tragically ended his life. His parents were left grappling with the devastating realization that the invisible wounds resulting from a random car accident could be just as fatal as those inflicted on the battlefield.
I’m convinced Paul’s demise could have been prevented had he stuck with his exercise routine and pursuit of elite competition while being supported by his fellow SEALs. I say this based on my personal experience.
I was paralyzed not long after Paul’s accident. While both of us experienced a catastrophic injury resulting in a permanent disability, I had long-term exercise-based therapy, as well as access to adaptive sports programs. Matter of fact, there was an established pipeline that led me and other paralyzed veterans to the most elite competition — the Paralympics.
So, why did Paul and I experience different outcomes?
Well, there are some who allege systemic discrimination based on the type of disability. These allegations specifically address the disparity between those of us with visible disabilities and those whose disabilities, such as TBI, aren’t as conspicuous.
If you’re reading SPORTS ’N SPOKES, I’m sure you’ve heard people say, “Sports saved my life,” so it’s hard to believe anyone in our circles could justify denying someone with a disability, including those with a TBI, access to adaptive sports. Nevertheless, that’s the allegation.
The idea of using sports as a means of rehabilitation goes back to the Stoke Mandeville Games, first organized by Ludwig Guttmann, MD, in 1948. There were just 16 veterans, all of whom were seated in wheelchairs, as they competed in the sport of archery.
Over the years, many other competitions have been established to demonstrate how exercise-based therapy programs can help veterans with various disabilities reintegrate through sports. Some of these programs have significantly evolved, becoming more mainstream and inclusive with wider participation opportunities and increased media coverage.
Many of these events have morphed into pipelines for some of the most elite competitions in the world, including the upcoming 2028 Summer Paralympic Games in Los Angeles. Unfortunately, as organizers of these events focus on elite athletes, many veterans who arguably need these programs feel they’re being left behind.
One such veteran recently told me that he believes there’s a hierarchy of disability that rewards visible injuries, while marginalizing veterans with brain trauma and psychological scars. He went on to say veterans with TBI have been increasingly sidelined or “classified out” before competition even begins.
There’s no doubt veterans with TBI and other invisible injuries are underrepresented at elite levels of competition, but I can’t explain why with certainty. Is it because classifiers aren’t knowledgeable about TBI? Is it as simple as discrimination? If so, why?
The only thing I know is that Paul never had the opportunity to say, “Sports saved my life.”
As always, please share your thoughts with me at al@pvamag.com.
If you or someone you know is struggling with thoughts of suicide, help is available:
Veterans Crisis Line: Call 988, then Press 1, or text 838255 National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 988 Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741
You are not alone. Veterans with traumatic brain injuries and invisible wounds face unique challenges, but recovery and hope are possible. Many organizations provide specialized support for veterans with TBI, including adaptive sports programs, peer support networks, and mental health resources.
For TBI-specific resources:
- Brain Injury Association of America: biausa.org
- Team Red White & Blue: teamrwb.org
Remember: Seeking help is a sign of strength, not weakness. Your life has value, and there are people trained to help you through this difficult time.
If you’re a veteran family member or friend concerned about someone’s wellbeing, don’t hesitate to reach out to these resources for guidance on how to help.