Williams injury recalls Gayles' scary moment

A raindrop hit her face and suddenly she was rocked back to the memory of a drier place.

Others surrounding Brenda Gayles at Stanford Stadium last Saturday might have wondered what was happening with the Washington player wearing No. 25 who was lying still on the field, but Gayles immediately knew. In an instant she was shell-shocked back two years and 852 miles away to when her oldest son, Leland Jr., lay in the same position on a crisp October night at Husky Stadium.

Brenda Gayles, at the game last week to watch son Eddie, a Stanford wide receiver, was surprised by the similarities between the two alarming episodes. It was the third quarter. It was the Huskies. It was fear the player would never walk again . . . or worse.

"We couldn't believe it," said her husband, Leland. "I left the stadium a few minutes before because of the rain and she stayed and it was just unbelievably ironic that all of it was happening again. When she got back to Eddie's dorm, we all talked about it and called Leland (Jr.)."

News that Husky strong safety Curtis Williams was taken to Stanford Medical Center unable to walk or speak was the last thing young Leland wanted to hear. Out of athletic eligibility at Arizona and working toward a master's degree in psychology in Tucson, Leland Jr. bears a mental scar from what happened to him Oct. 3, 1998.

Before quarterback Ortege Jenkins' Cirque du Soleil flip that propelled Arizona to a 12-1 season, Leland Gayles Jr., a Kennedy High School graduate, was knocked out by a hit from teammate Marcus Bell; the game against Washington was suspended for 15 minutes. Both Arizona players were trying to defend Husky receiver Andre DeSaussure..

"It's intense when you go through it," said Bell, who plays for the Seahawks. "When it happens, it like messes with your mind and everything. You lose track because that's your teammate. You see them lying on the ground. You see them not moving. Their eyes sometimes roll back in their head and it's like, they're not there."

Unlike Williams, Gayles was able to speak within moments of the collision. And the first thing he said, with his mother and father by his side, was, "If I can walk again, I'm never playing football."

But the Renton native played out his senior season last year at Arizona and, even after hearing about Williams, Leland Jr. wants to try out for professional scouts.

"There is a process you go through," Leland Jr. said. "I heard Curtis still can't walk or talk, so right now football isn't on anybody's mind. For me, when I was healthy, I was bitter and didn't want that (the hit) to be the way I left football after so many years dedicated to the game. I regret going back, though. I wasn't mentally ready and I should have taken a medical redshirt. Now I want to try out just to have closure."

The Gayles are one of the few families around the country that understands what the Williams family is going through right now.

Although it was known five hours after the injury that Leland Jr. wasn't paralyzed, he remained hospitalized in Seattle for about a month. The letters and pictures sent to him during the time are stashed in a shoe box in the back of his closet.

"It's still painful to talk about it," he said softly.

One positive is his re-evaluation of life. Once arrested for a textbook-selling scam at Arizona, Leland Jr. is graduating in the spring with his second bachelor's degree, interning in his career field during summers and planning to attend graduate school.

Leland Jr., 24, no longer tries to just skim by or expect others to do everything for him.

"He has a totally new outlook on life," Leland Sr. said. "He realized that, in an instant, it can all be gone. Football could be over, then what are you going to do?"

But it's years of training in football that makes Leland Jr., his brother, Eddie, and perhaps Curtis Williams want to return to the game. The excitement of scoring a touchdown, intercepting a pass or making a big hit causes most players to forget the freak chance that one play could be their last.

"I'm going to California next week and if Curtis is there I'm going to visit him," Leland Jr. said. "All I can do is tell him all my prayers are with him . . . but I still want to play again someday. It gets in you. But my children will never play. They are going to have to try basketball or golf. Something less violent, because it's not worth it."