When we were young, my friends and I were trying to tip over a solid cement picnic table so we could do boardslides on it. I jumped off it, and it flipped over and smashed down on my foot.
I was bombing a hill in LA called Adam’s Hill. My friend was riding a bike, and I was bombing it behind him. I ollied up a curb and got speed wobbles. Someone had some pink bricks lining his lawn. I hit one of them and dove headfirst for probably 20 feet. I banged my shin on one of those bricks and it went through my jeans and into my leg. There was white, fibrous tissue hanging out of my leg. I just pulled up my sock, went home and bandaged it up.
I sliced my palm open, like an inch deep, from my wrist to halfway into my thumb. I locked myself out of my house and was trying to slide my bedroom window open from the outside when the glass broke. I stabbed myself on the window glass. It took like 27 stitches or something to close it up.
Broken Tooth and Split Lip
I broke my tooth while filming for Brian Lotti’s movie. He had some movie dude filming 16mm. I was front boardsliding a ledge off stairs and when I landed, the filmer was supposed to stay perfectly still and let me pass. Instead, he followed me, turned the camera right in my face, broke my tooth and split my lip open. I got 11 stitches. My lip was completely split open; I looked like Predator. I got the tooth fixed, but then on a plane to Spain I bit into a hard piece of bread and broke it again. I just got it fixed for the third time.
I have a scar on my moustache from a fight in the sixth grade. A kid and I were wrestling around and I had him in a headlock. He smashed my face into one of those sharp stucco walls. I busted my lip, and there was blood everywhere. That ended the fight. There was so much blood that he started crying. Such a weird wound.
Mic-E Reyes punched me in the center of my chest last Friday night. I have a big bruise. It hurts so badly. Who punches someone in the middle of the chest?
My friends were trying to carry me down a flight of stairs. We were all super wasted, and they dropped me. I just rolled down some gnarly cobblestone stairs. It was a bad one.
I was standing too close to the batter while playing baseball. He threw the bat and knocked out my tooth. I got it fixed and it lasted about eight years. Then one day I had a full soda can in the pocket of my unzipped jacket. As I was throwing my board over the fence at Lockwood, my jacket swung up and knocked it out again.
I went to a gap to ledge two days in a row. I kept landing a backside lipslide but was stepping off or shooting out. I hit my head two days in a row trying it, and I was tired. I ollied the gap super lazy, and my board was between back Smith and back lip. I stuck and flew backward over the whole ledge, landed on my ass and smacked the back of my head on the ground. I hit it so hard that I was out of it; I was totally incoherent and didn’t know what I was doing. Then it started coming back to me and I got scared to go to sleep that night because I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up.
This became my first scar. I was in kindergarten waiting to go out to recess, and it was raining. We ran outside and my friend was chasing me. I cut a corner too sharply, slipped on the wet ground and smacked my head on the corner of a small picnic table. It’s kind of ironic that it was one of those small picnic tables we skate nowadays.
I was nosegrinding a nine-stair aluminum handrail. It was grinding pretty good, and then I just stuck at the top and flew straight to my shoulder.
Broken Thumb and Wrist
I broke my thumb and wrist trying to slappy a wet red curb. I was skating home from school one evening and didn’t know the sprinklers had been on, plus I was wearing a backpack, so that made me heavier. I slipped out and sat on my thumb and wrist and broke them both.
I’d just had a super bad day of skating. I’d bought a little 40-dollar pocketknife the day before and was super psyched on it. When I got home, a kid who lived in my neighborhood who used to come over and buy boards from me was sitting on my bed, cutting griptape with my brand-new knife. I snatched it out of his hand and saw all the goo on the blade. I tried to wipe it off, but it was just f**ked. In a fit of rage, I stabbed it into the wall, not realizing that back in the day they used to put sheet metal behind drywall for fire protection. Once the blade hit the metal it broke the lock and snipped my finger right off. It was agonizing, probably the worst pain I’ve felt in my life. I looked down and saw my own finger laying on the floor. What was left of my finger was skin and white meat at first, then it started squirting blood. I grabbed a towel and my finger and drove around to three hospitals, but they wouldn’t treat me because I didn’t have health insurance. I ended up at County hospital at 10 o’clock on a Friday night. I finally got treated at 6 the next morning. My finger looked like a prune, and by that time it was too late to sew it back on.
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