Following that tackle, I made my way to my feet and lifted my helmet, from the bridge of my nose. I didn’t know exactly what was transpiring, but the buzz and dizziness that I felt in my head was certainly real. The huddle surely seemed like a long way off. …

On the second play, the quarterback pushed me out of the huddle and I had to put my hand on the ground to maintain my balance. By the time I reached the line of scrimmage, the entire field was spinning. When I tried to grab the ball, I missed it. Looking to the left, I saw a group of coaches, so I started staggering toward them. I’m sure almost every one has been privy to an intoxicated fool. Although it was completely unintentional, I was doing a flawless imitation.

As I headed off the field, I recalled that coach Tom Costello yelled for help. Another teammate rushed out and got under my shoulder. The entire situation was surreal. I had never been in so much pain. Coach Costello asked me how I felt. I was perfectly honest and responded that I had a (****) buzz. Within the next five steps, my legs were dead. That was an extremely strange feeling, having my legs bouncing behind me, while being dragged off the playing field. It was certainly a new experience, embarrassing at best. In a decade of athletic competition, I’d never required assistance to any sideline. My head was really buzzing now and I knew something was seriously wrong.

Once I was lying prone on the ground, I didn’t really care who saw me, because I was in and out of consciousness. My initial thoughts were that if I fell asleep, I’d wake and discover it was all a bad dream. Fortunately, Mrs. Flaherty, a mother of a teammate, was a nurse.

Excerpt from “It Could Be Worse,” a new autobiography by Bob McPhee.