Boosty_Hondo
11-04-2006, 09:06 PM
By Rusty Burson
Associate Editor, 12th Man Magazine
In mid-August of 1983, Mary Neumann’s doctor and ultrasound technician viewed her sonogram and confidently informed her that, within a week or so, she would be delivering what appeared to be a perfectly healthy baby boy.
What the medical staff did not notice from the sono- gram, however, initially provided quite a surprise for the entire family—and later generated some of the most emotionally draining and exhausting months that parents could possibly encounter.
When Mary Neumann went back to the hospital on Aug. 19, 1983, she delivered two boys. One of them, Layne, was—as the doctors predicted—in ideal physical condition. But the firstborn child, Lance, came out of his mother’s womb clinically dead.
No movement. No heartbeat. No sign of life.
“Fortunately, (the medical staff was) able to revive him, and then he was sent to Santa Rosa Hospital in San Antonio, where he spent the next three months,” Mary said from her home in Hondo. “It was touch-and-go, and he had four other ‘Code Blue’ situations where we thought we could have lost him. But by God’s grace he made it through, and 93 days after he was born we brought him home.
“I’ll never forget the day we brought him home and put him in the crib beside Layne. They looked at each other and touched hands. There were no words, of course. But it looked to me like they were saying to each other, ‘Oh, where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you.’”
Perhaps ever since those earliest moments of life, Layne Neumann, now Texas A&M’s senior placekicker, has known a little bit more about patience than most of the rest of us. He and the rest of his family waited six years for his twin brother to undergo heart surgery to correct the condition that threatened his life at birth—
coarctation of the aorta.
And the family waited even longer for the diagnosis of Lance’s clean bill of health.
So, while waiting four years to be in the collegiate football spotlight may seem like a torturous delay to some of the athletes in the “play-me-now” generation, Neumann simply says it was worth it.
Neumann arrived at Texas A&M in 2002, in R.C. Slocum’s final year as head coach. He redshirted his first season and did not see any action during his second. Although he handled kickoff duties in ’04, he lost that job last year, and entering this season he had attempted
only three field goals in his first four years on campus, making one.
One made field goal in four years. It would hardly seem worth all the time, the effort, the sacrifices and the amount of sweat expended. At least that’s the stance many young men in a similar position might have taken.
But for the energetic and upbeat Neumann, biding his time in the background was more of a labor of love than a lesson in frustration.
And in talking to him, you get the feeling that even if this current opportunity to be the featured placekicker had never come, he would have been content to wait in the wings.
After all, the 23-year-old Neumann has spent his entire lifetime waiting to slip on the Texas A&M jersey. The fact that he is now playing a prominent role for the Aggies is just icing on the cake.
“It has always been my dream to play here, to wear this uniform,” said Neumann, who was 6-of-7 on field goal attempts and 19-of-19 on extra points through the Oct. 21 game at Oklahoma State. “I used to tell my friends, teachers and anybody else I talked to back home that I was going to play for Texas A&M one day. Most of them never believed me. They thought I was just blowing smoke. “But I have always dreamed about being part of this team. Growing up, I watched guys like Bucky Richardson, Dat Nguyen, Sirr Parker, Dante Hall and all those guys. They were my heroes. And I truly believed that I would one day find a way to be a part of this team.
Just like the movie, ‘Rudy’.”
Unlike the real-life Rudy, however, Neumann isn’t merely picking up “garbage time” appearances; he’s helping to determine outcomes with games on the line. And he’s already displayed a cool, calm demeanor that could help his beloved Aggies write some storybook
endings of their own.
Associate Editor, 12th Man Magazine
In mid-August of 1983, Mary Neumann’s doctor and ultrasound technician viewed her sonogram and confidently informed her that, within a week or so, she would be delivering what appeared to be a perfectly healthy baby boy.
What the medical staff did not notice from the sono- gram, however, initially provided quite a surprise for the entire family—and later generated some of the most emotionally draining and exhausting months that parents could possibly encounter.
When Mary Neumann went back to the hospital on Aug. 19, 1983, she delivered two boys. One of them, Layne, was—as the doctors predicted—in ideal physical condition. But the firstborn child, Lance, came out of his mother’s womb clinically dead.
No movement. No heartbeat. No sign of life.
“Fortunately, (the medical staff was) able to revive him, and then he was sent to Santa Rosa Hospital in San Antonio, where he spent the next three months,” Mary said from her home in Hondo. “It was touch-and-go, and he had four other ‘Code Blue’ situations where we thought we could have lost him. But by God’s grace he made it through, and 93 days after he was born we brought him home.
“I’ll never forget the day we brought him home and put him in the crib beside Layne. They looked at each other and touched hands. There were no words, of course. But it looked to me like they were saying to each other, ‘Oh, where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you.’”
Perhaps ever since those earliest moments of life, Layne Neumann, now Texas A&M’s senior placekicker, has known a little bit more about patience than most of the rest of us. He and the rest of his family waited six years for his twin brother to undergo heart surgery to correct the condition that threatened his life at birth—
coarctation of the aorta.
And the family waited even longer for the diagnosis of Lance’s clean bill of health.
So, while waiting four years to be in the collegiate football spotlight may seem like a torturous delay to some of the athletes in the “play-me-now” generation, Neumann simply says it was worth it.
Neumann arrived at Texas A&M in 2002, in R.C. Slocum’s final year as head coach. He redshirted his first season and did not see any action during his second. Although he handled kickoff duties in ’04, he lost that job last year, and entering this season he had attempted
only three field goals in his first four years on campus, making one.
One made field goal in four years. It would hardly seem worth all the time, the effort, the sacrifices and the amount of sweat expended. At least that’s the stance many young men in a similar position might have taken.
But for the energetic and upbeat Neumann, biding his time in the background was more of a labor of love than a lesson in frustration.
And in talking to him, you get the feeling that even if this current opportunity to be the featured placekicker had never come, he would have been content to wait in the wings.
After all, the 23-year-old Neumann has spent his entire lifetime waiting to slip on the Texas A&M jersey. The fact that he is now playing a prominent role for the Aggies is just icing on the cake.
“It has always been my dream to play here, to wear this uniform,” said Neumann, who was 6-of-7 on field goal attempts and 19-of-19 on extra points through the Oct. 21 game at Oklahoma State. “I used to tell my friends, teachers and anybody else I talked to back home that I was going to play for Texas A&M one day. Most of them never believed me. They thought I was just blowing smoke. “But I have always dreamed about being part of this team. Growing up, I watched guys like Bucky Richardson, Dat Nguyen, Sirr Parker, Dante Hall and all those guys. They were my heroes. And I truly believed that I would one day find a way to be a part of this team.
Just like the movie, ‘Rudy’.”
Unlike the real-life Rudy, however, Neumann isn’t merely picking up “garbage time” appearances; he’s helping to determine outcomes with games on the line. And he’s already displayed a cool, calm demeanor that could help his beloved Aggies write some storybook
endings of their own.