Carl is a bright kid who has proven over and over again that he can perform under pressure. He’s also a natural, graceful athlete. He had been building a soccer career out of his athleticism and his quick thinking since he was five. At nine years old, he was selected to play for the Michigan Wolves, one of the premiere soccer clubs in the country, on the team called the ’88 Wolves (designated ‘88 for the birth year of most of its players). By the time he was 11, the ’88 Wolves had become the North American Indoor Champions. They were winning outdoor tournaments throughout this region of the country as well. By 12, they were Michigan state champions, too.

As you can imagine, all the boys on the team were fabulous athletes, displaying great feats of coordination, endurance and heart. Even parents of opposing teams – a tough, negatively-biased crowd – marveled, out loud at the skill of the Wolves. And, number 21 on the scorecard, Carl Asquini, soon distinguished himself as a thinker on the field, as well. His coach at that time, Pat Fredrick, recognized this and placed him in the key position of sweeper. The sweeper is the last defender in front of the goal keeper. It’s his job to organize the defense. He needs to make decisions instantly. If he makes the wrong one, he hangs his goal keeper out to dry. Carl rarely made the wrong decision, prompting one opposing coach at a tournament of state champion teams in Champaign, Illinois – which the ’88 Wolves won – to say, “Who is that feisty number 21? He didn’t give us anything.”

Carl was a key component of the Wolves both on and off the field. His teammates voted him a co-captain role. But in early 2001 he went through a growing spurt as a 13-year-old and was suffering through an uncoordinated period. His coach then, Kevin Tuite, was a patient man of long-term vision who understood the situation and was content to wait it out. He sat Carl out for a few games and lessened his role in others. They turned out to be ill-timed games to be anything but his best, because they were being monitored by the man who would lead the team the following year, as well as become the director of coaching for the whole club. When this new coach picked his under-14-year-old team, Carl wasn’t on it. It was a shock to the parents, his teammates, and to his former coaches. Even the previous head of Wolves coaching and Carl’s potential high school coach, Lars Richters, couldn’t believe it.

“What am I now?” Carl asked me as he slumped on the couch that night in our living room. “Am I still a soccer player?”

The paramedics carried me to the ambulance and, inside, gave me some oxygen. This brought some clarity to my mind. Matt and I talked about the Graham brothers, Jim and Scott – old friends and my only connections to the Livonia Fire Department – and about my photography business and digital cameras. It was a short ride to Botsford. Along the way, I noticed I hurt when the ambulance slowed. But when it accelerated my body stretched a bit and eased the pain. When I mentioned this to Matt, he knew I was in serious trouble but didn ’t let on.

Once at Botsford Hospital, the questions began again.

“Have you ever been hospitalized?”

“Yes. 1958, for retno blastoma. I was two years old and lost my left eye. ”

“Your left eye is artificial?”

“Yes.”

“Any other times.”

“Yes. 1961, to have a large birthmark removed from my lower back. 1964, appendicitis. February, 2001, I had the symptoms of a heart attack, but no heart attack; the symptoms seemed stress related. July, 2001, out patient surgery for torn meniscus in my right knee and removal of my torn ACL – a soccer injury this past June. Replacement of the ACL is scheduled for mid September.” I had forgotten 1960 and a second surgery on my left eye socket, but that hardly mattered now.