Ask Chris Hull about his love of contact, and his eyes light up like Denver Bronco Elvis Dumervil’s when he has an unobstructed path to the quarterback.
“Want to see a video?” he asks, whipping out an iPhone.
Hitting the power button, Hull points out an unsuspecting opponent down the field.
“Watch how I run him down,” the 25-year-old says.
The ensuing collision would indeed make any defensive end, any tough guy, proud.
“And, it’s a turnover on him,” Hull concludes with a satisfied grin, as the image of the referee rushing in to help the downed quadriplegic rugby player set his wheelchair back upright flickers on the screen.
When Hull lifts his forearms, he proudly displays tattoos reading “Quad” on one and “Rugby” on the other. For him, moments such as the one recorded on his iPhone epitomize “living life outside of the chair.” It’s a recognition that being down in some ways doesn’t have to mean being out — a fact that was reaffirmed 100 times over this week at the National Veterans Wheelchair Games.
Now in its 30th year, the competition in Denver this week featured nearly 600 participants in 17 different events, from softball to weightlifting, bowling to 9-ball, track and field to rugby. All of them military veterans, the youngest athlete here is 22; the oldest is an 86-year-old who received a Purple Heart in World War II.
The competition is often fierce. In rugby, the players literally armor up their chairs before taking part in an event that’s a cross between “Rollerball” and “Gladiator.” But more important than wins and losses, says Sandy Trombetta, is the idea of just getting out there.
“Rather than thinking, ‘My life is over,’ a lot of times these guys start a whole new life, one that, in some ways, is more progressive than their previous ones were,” said Trombetta, a recreation therapist with the Department of Veteran Affairs. “It’s a means of knocking down barriers, of them and everyone else. If you see someone in a chair, you might see a disabled person. But if you see that same person on skis or a tennis court, then they’re a skier or tennis player.”
“If I can ski . . .”
“It’s the great equalizer,” Trombetta said. “And for the veteran, their thinking changes, too. They do that, and now they’re thinking, ‘If I can ski down a mountain, maybe I can get a job. Maybe I can meet someone.’ “
More than 20 years ago, Trombetta found himself working one winter with a veteran in Grand Junction. Looking for some sort of physical activity, the pair hit the ski slopes. And while what then transpired might not fit the classical definition of skiing, Trombetta said, “I knew that what we were doing had nothing to do with that at all.
“It was more about him finding himself. Regaining something he had lost.”
Like the idea of being OK being by yourself.
A former airman in the Air Force, Nikki Smith has been paralyzed below the waist for almost 15 years. At the time she was hurt, Smith said, she would give herself only five years to live in a wheelchair.
But earlier this week, the Denver resident was in the Colorado Convention Center, preparing to embark on a new adventure — power soccer — and talking about traveling to the 2011 Games in Pittsburgh.
“I love my independence; some days I don’t get a minute alone between nurses and personal-care providers,” Smith said. “I’ve learned to live alone; that’s what kept me going.”
A first-time participant in the Games, Smith has already won a gold medal in 9-ball; now she’s joking with the volunteers tricking out her chair for her first-ever soccer game.
“Just try to drill in between the toes,” she says with a laugh.
A prayer in tattoo ink
For moments when she isn’t so positive, Smith reveals an intricate tattoo, with three columns of Chinese script running from her left shoulder almost down to the elbow.
“It’s a serenity prayer,” she says.
There was a time about six years ago when Hull was in desperate need of a similar balm. Then a member of the Army, Hull said he was looking forward to deployment to Iraq in two weeks when, on the drive from Fort Hood, Texas, to his home in Florida, a friend lost control of their car somewhere near Mobile, Ala.
The crash resulted in injuries to his C-6 and C-7 vertebrae. However, after a couple of weeks of “Why me?” moping, Hull moved on, with sports serving one of the main catalysts.
“You can have a great life; it’s just a matter of finding something to fill in the gaps,” he said. “For me, sports was a major part of the rehabilitation.”
This year, Hull has been the Bruce Jenner of the Games. He’s already won a silver medal in bowling and on Thursday participated in the javelin throw. Friday, his team was competing for the championship in his first love, rugby.
There’s no telling what else is on the horizon for Hull — although chances are it won’t involve hoops.
“I wanted to lose some weight so I could be in better shape for rugby, so I started trying to cross-train with the basketball players,” he said. “But those guys were kicking my butt.”
Anthony Cotton: 303-954-1292 or acotton@denverpost.com
