Doctors told me I could never walk, but my football team made me feel like I could fly

This First Person column is written byDylan Earis, a graduate of the University of Regina's school of journalism. For more information about First Person stories, seethe FAQ.

It wasNov. 8, 2000 andI was seven.I was wheeled into the operating room at Regina General Hospital for surgery on my legs. Iclutched my stuffed Franklin the Turtle and my mom walkedbeside me.

I wasso scared.

I thought I was going to die.

The reason for the surgery was simple. It wasgoing to give me the ability to stand on my own.

I was born with cerebral palsy. Due to the disability, I wasn't able to walk or even stand up on my own.Although the surgery would enable me to stand, it wasn't going to take care of the most pressing issue. It would not help me walk.

The doctors made sure I understood this. They told me over and over again that I wouldn't be walking.

I was determined to prove them wrong.

Flash forward to Sept. 1, 2002, and I wasseated in front of my TV watching the Labour Day Classic between the Saskatchewan Roughriders and Winnipeg Blue Bombers.

What I'd been through in the past two years was the farthest thing from my mind.

I wasfocused on the game and Roughriders' quarterback Rocky Butler.

The talk leading up to the game centred around how the Roughriders could not possibly beat the mighty Blue Bombers with Butler leading the charge.

Fans everywhere were doubting Butler and were sure there was no way the Riders could win this game.

I can still see the play as if it were yesterday.

With 14 minutes and 15 seconds remaining in the game and the Riders up by a point, they had the ball near the Winnipeg 30-yard line.

Butler took the snap from the shotgun and dashed up the heart of the Bombers' defence. After he reached paydirt, he held his arms up like a champion. He was tackled by the fans who were seated in the back of the end zone.

I leapt out of my chair and took off running around the house while screaming, "Rocky! Rocky! Rocky!"

A little over a year prior to this moment, I could barely sit up. Medical professionals had told me I would never walk.

Now I was running.

Everything I ever dreamed of in my life was coming true. I had conquered every obstacle.

The Riders would go on to win the game 33-19. But more important than the scoreboard was theconnection I formed with the team.

The Riders, my friends in lonely times

Despite my newfound ability to walk, it was still a challenge for me to get around. I didn't spend my weekends playing with other kids my age;I spent them in the house watching the Riders.

The Riders kept me company during a time that can be lonely for a lot of kids.

I wasn't upset that I couldn't keep up with the other kids. As long as the Riders were on TV, life was good (depending on the score, of course).

Around fifth grade, I started to become anxious and depressed. It started out small and I thought it was something I could handle.

By the time I reached high school, my mental health had completely deteriorated.My worries never had anything to do with who I was or my disability.I was worried about getting sick and dying.

One of the only things that kept me sane during this period was the Riders.

I'd struggle to get through the week, hoping to reach the weekend where, for a few hours, the Riders would take my mind off my problems.

When I went toTaylor Field and watched the Riders play, I felt like me. I no longer worried about dying. I worried about the green guys winning.

I'm happy to say that I've since got help for my issues. Anxiety and depression are things I'm going to have to deal with for the rest of my life, but I can better manage the symptoms.

Still, I'll never forget what the Riders did for me at the lowest points of my life.

At a time where I felt like I was on death's doorstep, the Riders took me in and let me know that everything was going to be OK.

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This week, as the team gets set to open another season, I'm already savouring the thought of heading down to the stadium, wearing my luckyRider hat. It's an old trucker hat from the 1990s. Originally, it was green. I've worn it for so many years that it's now yellow.

I'll watch the players warm up from my seat, way up in the corner of the north end zone. The anticipation will build for another season, another time where I can cheer alongside the other fans, knowing that anything is possible for the Riders, but also for me.

There's nowhere in the world I'd rather be.

I'm home.

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