In high school, you were hit in the face right between the eyes with a flying baseball bat that slipped out of the hands of one of your team members and rotated through the air sort of like a helicopter into your face. It shattered both your eye sockets cognitively. You didn't know what year it was. The road to recovery was so long. I couldn't drive a car for the next nine months. All I really wanted to do was just get back and play some baseball and be a normal, you know, teenage kid.