T. K. and The Exorcist The Meandering Mind

“Ministry Musings,” a series about some humorous and serious stories in my life as a pastor.

My last column was about being team chaplain to the Taft College football team. Here are a couple additional vignettes.

T. K. was a big stud defensive tackle. At six-foot, four inches and 290 pounds, he was one big, nasty dude in 1973. He was as committed to the game as he was big. No matter how beat up he was, he wanted to play every down.

As team chaplain, I had a great view of the game on the sideline. I was not in the huddle, but the story related to me by the players went like this. T.K. came back to the huddle with some blood on his uniform. (These were the days before that would stop a game.) His teammates asked if T.K. was alright. He said the blood was from the opponent whom T.K. had hit hard.

Next huddle, T.K. has considerably more blood on his uniform. More questions that T.K. fended off. The third huddle revealed that T.K. looked pale. He keeled over, releasing his right hand from his left wrist, which he had been holding to stop his bleeding artery. T.K. hit the ground hard, arterial blood spouting from his wrist.

That stopped the game. The doc and trainer tended to him, got him off the field with the help of T.K.’s fellow linemen. As team chaplain, I was quickly by his side. He was still conscious and babbling about getting back into the game. He wanted to know if they could give him some blood while on the sideline, patch him up and put him back in the fray. Much to his displeasure, he sat out the rest of that game.

Break-break. New topic. The 1973 football season had ended. Late one night I was awakened by someone banging on my parsonage door. When I answered it, T.K. was there, trembling. His broken artery had long since healed, but I could see that he was upset about something.

I invited him in and he told me that he had seen “The Exorcist” movie earlier that night. It gave him nightmares. His roommate was not happy about that. T.K., big, strapping fellow that he was, wanted to know if he could sleep on my couch that night. He was too scared to be alone.

What else could a pastor, team chaplain do but grant him his wish? He was way too big for my couch, so I put him in the spare bedroom. Is there a pastor anywhere that doesn’t have a spare bedroom for occasions like this? Not my first rodeo. Even as a young clergyman, I had hosted several surprise visitors in my spare room.

Side note: “The Exorcist” hit the theaters in December, 1973. The special effects weren’t as spectacular as today, but it was a truly scary movie. I hadn’t seen it, but had a professional obligation to view it due to questions from parishioners and athletes.

I went to an afternoon matinee. I was there by myself. I knew it was a movie. I knew it was fake. It still scared the stuffings out of me. I was glad that it was still daylight when I exited the theater.

Turns out that T.K. was not the only rough, tough football player that needed reassurance about demon possession. Several other players and non-athlete college students came to my door with questions and fears. Many bible studies and conversations followed.

One never knows what may come in faith and life in our world.