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In early December 1998 the New Jersey air was crisp but not cold, the sky was clear and the feel of fall was prominent...
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Born in Fort Collins, Colorado to Robert and Barbara Sutter on the 14th day of September 1974 Ryan Allen Sutter seemed like just another healthy baby to be delivered inside the maternity ward of Poudre Valley Hospital. A little large at 9 pounds 6 ounces but healthy none-the-less and quiet.
...It was a perfect day for football at the Meadowlands. A sea of green spread from the artificial surface of the field to the nose bleed section of the stadium filled with the notorious blue collar N.Y. J-E-T-S, Jets, Jets, Jets, fans...
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As soon as he could walk, Ryan was punting, passing and catching a football. Oh sure there were other things too. He would throw on his boots and holster and play Cowboys and Indians or put out fake fires in the sandbox wearing only his diapers and firefighter's helmet, but football was his passion. It was his expression and even at an early age he played the game as he did his life, quietly, without external emotion, with pure joy.
...In the locker room like in the stadium there was a buzz, raw emotion oozed from the players bodies, filled the air, leaked into the bowels of the enormous stadium and was finally set free to the mid-afternoon blue sky. The smell of tape and ointments, the muffled quiet of voices heard through ears covered by headphones playing the music of focused preparation...
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Athletics were the one constant in Ryan's life, and football the one constant in his athletics. He was a gifted athlete, but not a superstar and his quiet nature did nothing to assist in getting him noticed. He had to work hard and did. It showed on the field, but when the game was over, he was gone, off with a few close friends to relax and reflect. He was a perfectionist and it was that nature that kept him up on game nights, replaying the game over and over in his head.
...The excitement only grew as the opposing teams entered the stadium, their uniforms like their intentions, in sharp contrast. The approaching game reeked with the anticipation of kickoff as the fans settled into their seats and the players took their positions on the field...
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Ryan had worked hard to get to this point. Hard work and an unrelenting silent persistence had taken him from an honor student and all-conference football player in high school to the University of Colorado, where, rather than dwell on the fact that no scholarship was offered, Ryan would gladly accept a walk-on role for the Golden Buffaloes. Hard work brought that scholarship two years later as well as three letters, more all conference honors, a team MVP and the school's Athlete of the Year award, not to mention a bachelor's degree in architecture. All that hard work had finally paid off when Ryan was drafted in the fifth round of the NFL draft; his actions had taken the place of the words that always came so hard to him, his childhood dream was reality.
...Number 35 for the opposing Carolina Panthers was a young kid by the name of Sutter, making his first NFL start that perfect fall day in the meadowlands. Who knows if anyone was even watching as Ryan ran down the field to cover the opening kickoff or if anyone saw him dive out to trip up the runner and make the tackle. Surely a few people saw him as he was slow to get up, or as he was helped off the field into the locker room. Maybe someone caught the blurb on ESPN that night highlighting what would turn out to be a nine-second career, but no one ever saw him take the field again.
In silence it had begun and in silence it had ended, a lifetime of hard work and a childhood dream realized and removed in nine seconds.
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In life there are pivotal moments. This was mine. A change brought about by tragedy, a tragedy which brought change. Nine seconds had opened the door to love and peace, art and romance, had brought about a shift from focus to balance and from silence to sound. Nine seconds changed life to living.
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