I was 19-0 on the season. I was ranked No. 2 in the large school division of wrestling in the state of Washington. I was dominating my opponent and threw one more head lock for good measure to pin and bam! My collar bone rolled under my pec and I was lying on a mat crying because I knew my season was over.
I was 16. I was scared. I was utterly crushed that my dream to become a state champion was gone. I looked up.
In excruciating pain from a very rare injury (I found out later), I looked up to see three faces: my coach, Bruce Burns; my father; and Dr. Tom Corrigan.
It was immediate. The first words I remember were my coach’s: “I think Kennon is crying because he knows his season is over more than the pain.”
Actually, I was crying because of both. Next I heard my dad say, “It’s OK, Sonny.” Finally I heard Dr. Corrigan say (and thank God he was at every match because his son Tommy was my teammate), “It will be all right, let’s go into the hospital and take a look.”
“You were winning the match, by the way,” he said with a smile. Those simple words and his presence brought me comfort.
That was 24 years ago. I remember going into Providence hospital and the first person I saw was Dr. Corrigan. He said something that made me laugh and relax. The next thing I knew I was on my back waking up to a bone being rolled back up into place, that being my clavicle, and Dr. Corrigan saying with a calming laugh, “You gave a sigh of ‘Ahh’ relief when we popped it back in.” For the next eight weeks I saw him quite often at his office in Everett. Every time, he delivered more confident news and positive comments. He knew the injury was serious, but always offered hope and confidence. That’s what I remember about this remarkable healer, who died last month at age 73. Well, that and what an intelligent, fun-loving family he had.
I had a great senior year at Mariner with Tommy, went to the state tournament and then to a college wrestling career in Oregon, where I had 141 NCAA and NAIA matches, 108 wins and qualified for the National Collegiate Championships three times. I am not waving my own flag, I am simply saying that without Dr. Corrigan being a small but important part of my life, I might not have ever realized my dreams. I might have left them there, that very night, on that mat forever.
It’s amazing how small words are like morsels. Dr. Corrigan had a way with them. Today he reminds me of that young character Archie “Moonlight” Graham (the future doctor) in the movie “Field of Dreams,” the one who crosses over the foul line to help a choking girl, only to give up his own dreams in baseball, never to return to his field of dreams, and never regretting it because he was a doctor by nature.
To me, this is what Dr. Corrigan is, was and will always be.
Mariner High School graduate Kennon Engelmann is an educator and wrestling coach in New York.
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