SoCalHoops College News

Brady Trenkle Fights His Way Back--(Nov. 15, 1998)

Last year we wrote about Brady Trenkle of SDSU, Coach Trenkle's son who was forced to stop playing last year because of a heart condition which doctors thought might possibly kill him if he continued to play basketball.  We sort of lost track of the story for more than a year, but this morning we came across an article written by Ed Graney, a San Diego Union-Tribune staff writer.  The article was written on the eve of the Aztecs home exhibition opener and it brings you up to speed on what's happened in the last year with Brady.

Heart of the matter: Brady Trenkle fights way
back to court

By Ed Graney
UNION-TRIBUNE STAFF WRITER
November 6, 1998

The memories tonight will come flying at Brady Trenkle like a runaway train, and Lord knows which he will confront first as he steps off the tracks and onto the basketball court at Cox Arena. It has been said we strain the hardest for things that are almost but not quite within our reach.

The straining part is over for Trenkle. He has again reached his comfort zone.

In basketball. In life.

San Diego State's men's team begins its season by hosting High Five America for an exhibition at 7 p.m. At some point, SDSU coach Fred Trenkle will look to his bench and tell a senior shooting guard, who happens to be the youngest of his four children, to enter the game. It will take but a few seconds for young Trenkle to rise, walk to the scorer's table and await a halt in play.  It will seem like an eternity.

"I will be thinking," said Brady, "about everything that happened over the last year."

He will remember, of course, every second of last summer while living in a family cabin above Ketchum, Idaho, at 7,500 feet; the time he spent alone searching for himself, for his place in the present and what fate holds in the future. He will see every inch and speck of dust lining that 5-mile trail, the one he ran six times a week in high altitude. He will feel the pain of all those sit-ups and miss the taste of the sodas he no longer drinks. He will glance at the pictures of him weighing 235 pounds and chuckle. Today, he is 190.

He will hear the voice of his mother, Nita, whose battle with multiple sclerosis served as the motivational tool that allowed Trenkle to scale the hurdles cluttering his path. Mostly, he will reflect on all the doctors and tests, all the tears, all the frightened looks and verbal confrontations from those he loves most, all the hugs he received for no apparent reason. "It was a scary time," said Brady. "All the doctors told me this wasn't life-threatening, but in reality they were taking away what my life was at that point."

Trenkle missed last season with what was first diagnosed as a heart virus, which doctors said caused him to become lightheaded and unable to focus properly during preseason conditioning drills. But one year and some very detailed tests later, those assigned Trenkle's case have discounted the original thoughts and granted him a full medical release. It is believed now that one of Trenkle's heart valves works slightly under full capacity and that he is most at risk when his heart begins to slow down immediately after exercise. But the results of a final examination at USC (one performed at only a few venues in the state) convinced doctors that allowing Trenkle to play isn't hazardous.

"He basically has a clean slate," said SDSU trainer Mark Haines. "He has no limitations."

Said Fred Trenkle: "If we felt in our minds there was any risk, we'd block it. We wouldn't allow him to play. It has been a year of ups and downs, a real roller-coaster ride."

It wasn't just about basketball. Brady Trenkle hopes to one day pursue a career as an FBI agent, and a serious heart problem ranks right up there with international spy when including negative facts on your resumé.

The experience might not have been so bad had he not felt so good. Trenkle has never had chest pain or anything that would hint of heart problems. That is what made being shut off from exercise so difficult. Trenkle for several months after first being examined wasn't permitted to walk fast, much less run. He sat. He watched. He gained weight.  Test followed test, which led to new specialists, which meant more tests. All the while, he would think back to when he was a little boy, no more than 5 years old, standing at his mother's bedside when her disease wouldn't allow her to walk.

"She has been my inspiration," said Brady. "She is remarkable. I know how tough this has been on her and my dad. He and I argued a lot about this . . . We almost got into a fight once. But I realize now he just wants what is best for me. He wants me to live until I'm 100, to have kids, his grandkids. He doesn't want anything bad to happen to me. I understand that."

Nita Trenkle, while awaiting the results of her son's final test several weeks ago, visited a friend who is dying from a heart condition. The man, in his late 30s, told Nita that doctors said it would be harmful if he continued spending time in altitude and subjecting his body to long days of fishing and other outdoor activities.

"But he told me that if he was going to die, he wanted to die doing what he loved most," said Nita. "And then I understood about Brady. He had said the same thing. Brady doesn't want to die. He wants to have a family and a career and a long life. I'm really at peace with this now.

"I could never discourage him from coming back. I could never tell him not to try. I know what it is like to be down, for doctors to tell you things you can't do any more. You fight and you get angry and good things happen. What he did last summer . . . I am so proud of him."

The physical difference alone is amazing because when you stand 5-foot-10 and lose close to 45 pounds and hope to drop another five as the season begins, people notice. It was, however, also a mental battle. Heart condition. They can be a terrifying words, ones that conjure memories of former basketball players Hank Gathers and Reggie Lewis, both now dead, victims of heart failure.

"I'm sure I will think about those two and others the rest of my life," said Trenkle. "But I can't sit around worrying about this . . . It's part of me now and I will never forget this past year."

His parents are convinced that had SDSU doctors not allowed him to play this year, Brady would have signed a waiver of responsibility and pursued the game at a different school. It never came to that, for which the 22-year-old is grateful. He also appreciates the time spent in Idaho last summer, where he was close to his grandparents and one of his brothers. Where, really, he found himself again.

The journey, the roller-coaster ride, was about basketball and it wasn't. Trenkle will never make a living shooting three-pointers, which he is very good at, so good that he led the nation for half of his sophomore season by hitting 40 percent. But he isn't that quick and doesn't impress with his jumping ability. And yet none of that matters because if this has to be it (SDSU could pursue a medical redshirt for Trenkle missing last year), one final competitive season, Trenkle will at least walk away on his terms, not those of any doctor or test.

"I'm going to play as hard as I can because that's the only way I know," said Trenkle. "I'm not talented enough not to go 110 percent. I can't dunk. I can't run the floor as fast as some of these guys. But I can take a charge. I can dive on the floor. I can put myself into the crowd going for a loose ball. I can fight for this team. If I stop doing those things because of what happened to me, I might as well not play."

Ironic, isn't it? One thing separates Brady Trenkle from so many who play this game, so many with twice his ability.

Heart.

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