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A true warrior

By DAWN REISS
Published April 10, 2005

At least once a practice, Seven Rivers Christian coach Steve Ekeli's voice bellows across the baseball field. "Oliver, come tie my shoes."

It's so routine that junior third baseman Chris Oliver tries to ask before Ekeli pops the question.

Ekeli doesn't like the situation. It's just part of reality. He can't swing a bat and shouldn't throw a pitch. Even picking up loose balls is too much. He just kicks them, as he tries to hide a slight grimace.

It always wasn't like this.

Ekeli isn't sure how he sustained a twisting fracture in his back - spondylolisthesis, which is a forward displacement of one of the lower vertebrae. It could be from his years of playing slow-pitch softball, or a remnant from his soccer days, or climbing 20-foot ladders with his father for their paint and tile company.

All Ekeli knows is that the problems he tried to ignore and relieve with chiropractic help became significant in June. An MRI revealed a fracture, and doctors quickly diagnosed mandatory surgery. It was only a question of when he would undergo the procedure.

Rather than impede on coaching summer soccer and preparing the Warriors for their fall program, Ekeli decided to wait. Advil became chewable candy, sometimes 18 pills a day. He no longer could pick up his 10-year-old daughter, Victoria, and hugging his wife, Julie, became too painful. Even driving a car was too much.

"When you're a 35-year-old guy, that's stuff you don't usually think about," said Ekeli, who recently turned 36. "You think you're invincible."

The back problems forced him to make the drastic decision to have surgery. His internal debate about the possibility of it not being successful quickly came to a close.

"When your daughter says, "Hey, daddy, let's go shoot baskets' and you say you can't and see the disappointment in her face, you know something has to change," he said.

Ekeli had surgery Nov. 17. It was a Wednesday. "That day will go down in infamy," he said. If Ekeli had waited another week, doctors say he would have collapsed on the sideline. He had put off surgery for weeks. Seven Rivers had the best soccer season in its history, only to be upset in the district tournament - a loss Ekeli said is the most devastating of his 13-year career.

"But it was probably a blessing in disguise," Seven Rivers athletic director Jamie Richard said.

Every game the Warriors won pushed back Ekeli's surgery date. He wanted the optimal time, when he could finish soccer and hopefully have enough rest to heal for the baseball season.

"Those guys killed themselves the year before for me," Ekeli said of the soccer Warriors. "That was the least I could do was come back and coach." Before the surgery, his wife inked his back with permanent black marker - "L5," for lumbar five, serving as a reminder to doctors were they should operate.

Ekeli's baseball assistant, Dan Shipes, didn't leave Ekeli's side until he was wheeled into the operating room.

"I just remember him saying, "You're going to get through this,' " Ekeli said. "You really know who you're friends are when you're in pain."

With his mother, wife and daughter at the hospital, Ekeli said: "I'll see you in a little bit." The surgery took 31/2 hours. After making an 8-inch incision in the middle of his back, doctors realized the problem was more severe than anticipated. The vertebrae wasn't attached, so it could spin around. The doctors sawed off and pounded ground bone into two baskets in the ridges of his back, then fused vertebrae. Titanium rods and screws replaced part of the spine, and 37 staples and 80 sutures closed the incision.

"I woke up numb neck down, but I wasn't in pain," said Ekeli, who received morphine.

"The surgeon said, "You're a mess,' " Ekeli recalled. "I said, "What is the clinical term for my problem?' He said, "You're a mess.' "

By Saturday, Ekeli left the hospital despite feeling sick to his stomach. His queasiness turned into a violent flu that made him dehydrated. He was back in the hospital with an IV. After returning home, Ekeli wore a brace for six weeks. It helped him improve two months ahead of schedule. Still, by late December he needed help for even the simplest tasks - bathing, going to the bathroom and getting out of bed. Every morning, his wife would dress him and he'd use a walker to get around. She'd rush home from work during her lunch break to make sure his staples were cleaned three times a day.

After two weeks, Ekeli had enough and stashed the walker into the garage. Despite doctor orders not to, he began venturing outside while his wife was at work.

"He was stubborn," Julie said. "I told him that if he wasn't going to use the walker, then he'd better be out walking around and not sitting on the sofa and feeling sorry for himself."

At first, Ekeli walked down the front steps. Then it was the corner and the end of the street. He worked his way from a quarter mile to 2 miles. By January, he didn't have a neck brace. "In the back of my mind," said Ekeli, a 1987 Citrus grad, "all I could think about was returning to coaching."

The recovery process began quicker than expected, but has started to plateau. For four months, Ekeli did intensive physical therapy at Gulf Coast Aquatic and Rehabilitation Center in Inverness, starting in the pool and building to core strengthening activities.

"They kicked my butt in rehab," Ekeli joked. "I was leg pressing 5 pounds, and a 90-year-old woman was pressing 90 pounds. Nothing like that to feed the ego."

Doctors estimate that it will take 18 months for Ekeli to fully recover. "I'm only at 50 percent now, but it was worth it. At least now I can do some things."

He still doesn't have feeling in his left leg or foot. He may never get it back. And he can't dress the lower half of his body or bend at the waist. "But I'm not really worried about it," Ekeli joked. "I can stub my toe and it doesn't hurt."

Unable to work at his father's business, Ekeli Painting, Steve Ekeli's family lived on his coaching check and his wife's income as a clothing department manager. Money they had saved for a home addition became their rainy-day fund.

"Has it been tough? You bet," Ekeli said. "Do I sweat at night? You bet. Where is the next forkful of food coming from? Is my daughter going to be able to go to the end of the year field trip?" Physically, Ekeli said he's improving. He still can't move real well, but the pain is gone.

"I've learned I have no control over anything any more," Ekeli said. "I haven't given up. I've just given it all away. I can't control a baseball game. I used to like to think I could, but I can't. When I was getting wheeled back to surgery, I had to accept that." That's something Ekeli said he couldn't do 10 years ago.

Two days before he was suppose to sign a letter of intent to play soccer at St. Andrew's College in Georgia, Ekeli blew out his knee. He spent 18 months recovering before playing a season at Hillsborough Community College and another at Lake Sumter Community College then several levels of the indoor game.

"Back when I was 17, I had a serious staph infection and they were in the operating room prepping me," Ekeli said. "I grabbed a hold of that doctor by his coat and said, "If you've got to take the leg, kill me.' "

Ekeli's intensity still rages, but in a different way. "Even if I was in a wheelchair, I'd find a way to coach," he said.

There are days when Ekeli doesn't want to get out of bed, then he thinks of his players or a friend calls. There never was a question in Ekeli's mind if he'd coach baseball again. The Warriors asked him to return. He transformed them from a back-to-back 1-16 team three years ago to a 6-10 squad last season, then to 9-5 and on the brink of its best record. "Even though he's barely able to stand, he gives us everything he's got," soccer and baseball athlete Chad Peets said.

Now there's a designated bucket from which Ekeli sits and coaches. "It's his throne," third baseman Chris Oliver said. "If you're caught on that, then don't worry about breathing tomorrow."

The most frustrating thing for Ekeli is not being able to demonstrate what he's trying to teach. He has supplemented his skills with assistants Dan Shipes, Phillip Kofmehl and Steven Brooks.

"I'm a firm believer in demonstrating," Ekeli said, "but I can still connect and reach kids."

[Last modified April 10, 2005, 00:39:14]