Injured Phils fan finds help at the park

Brian Forsyth

is a lifelong Phillies fan who lives in Havertown

The Phillies saved my life.

Well, technically, a bicycle helmet saved my life. (Wear a helmet, everyone.) But the Phillies have helped heal the traumatic brain injury I suffered in a traffic accident in August 2007.

The physical and emotional scars of that accident have required massive amounts of therapy. A lot of it has taken place at Citizens Bank Park.

I attended the clinching 2007 season finale in a wheelchair, and I had to leave the game early due to overstimulation. But just being there - however truncated my appearance - meant that I was alive and doing what I loved.

Opening Day 2008 saw me in attendance without the wheelchair, using only a cane. I still needed supervision; a brain injury can leave a person almost childlike, having to mature emotionally all over again. But during the course of the summer, I eventually proved myself capable of solo trips to the ballpark.

Another important part of my physical therapy over the summer was the All-Star Game voting. The left side of my body had been disconnected from brain signals because of the injury, and the repetitive, detailed work of punching ballots and tearing chads helped me retrain my muscles - even though it didn't get Pat Burrell elected.

Another help to me, physically as well as mentally, was rediscovering the joy of scorekeeping. It forces me to pay absolute attention at all times - a boon to my brain's cognitive rehabilitation - and it quenches my statistical thirst. By the end of the summer, I was recalculating batting averages and ERAs after every at-bat.

This urge to keep an immaculate record of the game has aided my rehabilitation in other ways. To be fully prepared, I've been entering the ballpark far earlier than I used to - sometimes as soon as Ashburn Alley opens. This has helped eliminate my tailgating excesses.

Alcohol kills brain cells, and my brain cells have already been enfeebled, so my therapists and I have decided a sober life is best. Quitting drinking was difficult, but I wouldn't trade sobriety for Albert Pujols. One benefit is that, even with a damaged brain, I can recall entire games more clearly than I could when imbibing all game long before my injury.

Because the vast majority of my friends and family partake in tailgating, I'll usually have hours to myself inside the stadium while my cohorts busy themselves with beanbag games and barbeque. Those hours of solitude can be meditative. Sometimes, while I'm filling out my scorecard and contemplating the joy of baseball, the loudspeaker system plays one of my favorite songs, and my senses are awash with ecstasy.

Other times, the Jumbotron provides valuable information: I've attended several book signings in the ballpark that I wouldn't have known about if I weren't studying the scoreboard. One of the signings was of Stanley Glenn's

Don't Let Anyone Take Your Joy Away

- the story of his experiences as a Negro Leagues ballplayer and the happiness he got from the game - which has given me stability in stressful times. Repeating the title as a mantra has kept me happy and sane.

The Jumbotron also features an anagram game that has helped my cognitive rehabilitation. I've even been working on my own anagrams, and it boggles my mind why they use "Soccer Hits" for Chris Coste instead of the infinitely more appropriate "Scorches It." Oh, well, maybe it's just my brain injury making me obsessive-compulsive enough to spend so much time on anagrams.

So, thank you, Phillies. You have made me see that life is beautiful and everything is magic.

By the way, I don't want you to feel extra pressure to win one in the World Series for the guy with a brain injury. Just know that I've always said a bad day of baseball is better than a good day of anything else.