I played soccer in high school. I also wore glasses, actually since I was 5. Sometime during the soccer season of my junior year, my aviator-style glasses (cut me some slack, it was 1977) suffered a small malfunction when the part to which one of the nosepads was attached snapped off. That left a nosepad on one side and a little metal spike on the other side. At that time, my mom & dad didn’t have lots if discretionary income to spend on new glasses, and I was also lazy when it came to speaking up about something insignificant like a missing nosepad.
So, I just wore the glasses as they were: slightly tilted up on the side with the pad, and the tip of the little metal spike sitting on my nose. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t painful either, and so I just went with it. As you can imagine, and not just because of the goofy glasses I wore, I was not what you could call a “babe magnet” at that particular time. (Nor am I suggesting I am one now, either.)
At that same time (I’m sure you can see where this is headed) I also developed a bad cold that progressed into a severe head-cold-sinus-vapor-lock kind of thing which was extremely uncomfortable because my head was so pressurized. No amount of yawning could open my ears enough to let some pressure equalize. The constant headache was painful. I don’t remember why I didn’t ask my parents to take me to the doctor, but my guess is that it was simple inertia. I could function well enough to get through the day, so I just tried to put up with my hyperbaric-chamber head. I was one miserable cowboy that week.
So, one afternoon during soccer practice, I’m on the bench (where I spent most of my time) talking with a teammate next to me when, POW! one of the players kicked the ball out of bounds and straight into my face, knocking me backward off the bench.
I lay there stunned and embarrassed. My stupid glasses had snapped in two, though not before rendering me one final, signal service.
A big smile of relief wreathed my face. That little metal spike had neatly punctured my nose cartilage just high enough to tap into my sinus and, whoo boy, all that pent up pressure came out in one very satisfying pop. I was so happy and relieved that I never forgot it.
Oh, and yes, at that point my mom and dad did shell out for a new pair of glasses. I’m sorry to report, however, that I selected another pair of aviators.