Eugene Tejada: Living one step at a time

HAYWARD, California – Mother’s Day 2006 will forever be etched in the heart of Eugene Tejada. Before then, he seemed to finally have it all. After three years of slaving away as a practice player, he finally cracked the line-up of a PBA team. He was slated to be married to a beautiful young actress, Jenny Hernandez. His friends and teammates truly got along with him. Life couldn’t be better.

Then, a freak accident happened. The Purefoods Giants were playing Red Bull in Antipolo, when his teammate, Roger Yap, fell after going for a lay-up, clipping Eugene’s leg. Eugene went down backwards on top of Yap, who had his knees up. Then, 6’8” Mick Pennisi toppled onto him.

“I was sitting down on the floor for like maybe a split-second, and then all of a sudden, I feel a big weight on my shoulders snap my neck down to the right,” Tejada told The STAR in an exclusive interview. “I heard five snaps in my neck, and then I didn’t feel nothing. I couldn’t stop crying. It was the scariest feeling, wanting somebody to help, but knowing no one could help me at that point.”

The budding power forward dislocated his C5 and C6 vertebrae, requiring traction and surgery to take a piece of his hip bone and fuse the damaged backbone. Later, screws and wires were implanted to reinforce the cracked bones.

“I probably shouldn’t have played that game,” Tejada told this writer at his home. “I had a bad ankle and it was my first game back after being out a couple of games. I told coach Ryan (Gregorio) I wanted to stay in ‘cause I was out of shape and I wanted to get back in shape for the playoffs and stuff.”

Soon, it became apparent that Eugene’s life would never be the same again. He was flown back here to Hayward to be in the care of his childhood friends and family, and to go through rigorous rehab nearby. Depression, however, quickly followed him.

“In the beginning, you feel it’s gonna get better; it’s coming back, it’s coming back,” the 6’4” former Alaska practice player explained. “You kind of psyche yourself out, like when my neck got aligned, I was like, oh, I can feel something. Then days and days came by and nothing happens. I was sure I was gonna walk again.”

Despite his best efforts, he knew his condition was serious. His parents didn’t want to give him the real score, and doctors evaded his questions about the seriousness of the injury. His world grew darker by the day.

“That’s probably the biggest question of all, asking God, why did it have to happen to me?” an emotional Tejada said. “Sometimes I sit in the dark for a couple of hours, until I tell myself it’s time to get up, time to do something. That’s probably the hardest.”

But what amplified his personal pain was his break-up with Jenny Hernandez. Engaged just weeks before, she suddenly left him, broken inside and out.

“You know, it wasn’t the perfect break-up, when you needed someone, and she just takes off on you,” Tejada remembers with a pause. “There’s a lot that happened that’s really hard for me to understand, you know. ‘Cause I was wondering, if this didn’t happen, would I still marry the person? When she left, I just realized, this might be a blessing in disguise. When you get married, it’s ‘til death do you part, right? Or when worse comes to worst. She left me when I was at my lowest point.”

Eugene threw himself into his rehab, drained by even the simplest effort of trying to stand upright out of the wheelchair. He spent hours each day pushing himself, harder than when he was playing. He had lost feeling in his right hand, his shooting hand. He started taking online courses to finally get his degree. But the intense joy of playing basketball became a sharp pain that wouldn’t go away, until he faced it.

“For a long time I couldn’t even watch it, you know, hearing sounds,” he admits. “The whistles, hearing the sneakers squeaking on the floor. It was tough, I would break down in tears, missing the game.”

Surprising even the doctors, Eugene started walking again, first halting steps, then smooth strides across the floor. He’s up to 25 laps at a time. But those laps might as well be a marathon for the energy it takes to accomplish. Even then, it’s started him thinking about coming back to the Philippines, to visit and thank all the people who have been supporting him through this limiting ordeal. He knows he’ll most likely never play basketball at any competitive level again, but his progress has given him, and the other patients who rehab with him, hope that things can change, though it may come one baby step at a time.

“I used to run, jump, and all that. Now that I’m walking around just a little, everyone is happy for me. I still think it’s not enough for me. I think it’ll never be enough. I just have to move on.”