If you’ve been living under a rock (smart, but you’re not Patrick Star — get yourself into a storm cellar) and haven’t seen Macus Lattimore’s knee injury, don’t do it. It’s just not worth it. You don’t need to watch a human’s leg get twisted like that and have to watch him as he takes those sickening first seconds to realize what just happened to his life.

I was going to make this an open letter to Marcus Lattimore, but that’s already been done. 

Plus, what would I say? A pat on the back? Tell him I feel for him because I had two ACL surgeries and I know what it’s like to be him? Because I don’t, at all.

Or do I? He turned 21 this week (I did on Labor Day). I know what it’s like to have floods of people spew their well wishes immediately after a devastating injury while you’re throwing on your best “Yeah, thanks a lot. I’m still laying in this bed while you get to walk out of here” face.

Would I tell him it’s not worth it to come back and play? Not a chance, you can’t give up on love.

Would I tell him it’s going to be okay and he’ll be the same player he was? How would I know?

Would I tell him to not sweat the rehab? Probably the last thing I’d say because it’s going to be the worst.

So, what am I doing writing this? I have no idea. I saw the injury around 4pm on Saturday, knew I had to blog about it, and it’s taken me 74 hours to put together a couple hundred words. Was it that punch in the throat I felt when I first saw it happen? Did I see myself in Lattimore as the tears ran down his face? Maybe I selfishly want him to gloriously return to the field and become my hero? Or maybe I want him to pursue a different love, tell him a football isn’t happiness — that there’s more out there miles away from a touchdown. Who knows, maybe I want to meet him, look him in the eye and tell him I understand.

All I have are words, and those just aren’t enough.