When Art Berg broke his neck in the summer of 1983, he had no idea it would help the Baltimore Ravens win the 2001 Super Bowl.
He was traveling across a lonely stretch of Nevada freeway, a 21-year-old Californian on his way to Utah to get married, when the car he was riding in smacked head-on into a car traveling just as fast in the other direction. One minute he was on top of the world; the next he was in a Las Vegas emergency room with doctors shaking their heads. He'd broken his fifth vertebra, rendering his arms and legs essentially useless. To medical science, he was a quadriplegic, tethered to a wheelchair the rest of his life. No sooner did he regain consciousness than he began hearing all the things he wouldn't be able to do.
And Art, he lay there paralyzed and began telling himself all the things he could do.
Among the many inspirations he turned to were the words of a 19th century English poet named William Ernest Henley who, when facing a crisis of his own, wrote a poem called "Invictus," which is Latin for "unconquered, unsubdued, invincible."
The poem's final stanza goes like this:
"It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate;
I am the captain of my soul."
Holding to that thought, Art embarked on a journey that in the past 18 years has taken him to heights he may never have visited if he hadn't been tethered to that chair. He has become an accomplished athlete (he has "run" numerous marathons and plays on a nationally ranked wheelchair rugby team), a fulfilled family man (the woman he was engaged to waited for him and they're now a family of four), a successful businessman (he was named "Young Entrepreneur of the Year" in 1992), and he is one of the country's most sought-after motivational speakers (at 39 he's already in the national speaker's Hall of Fame).
It was a year ago that Art Berg, champion paralytic, rolled into the Ravens preseason camp for a 7:30 speech — in the morning.
Dozens of football players in the midst of two-a-days sprawled in front of him in various stages of repose — guys who had heard halftime speeches and rah-rah talks since they were 6 years old. Now what was this man in a wheelchair going to tell them at 7:30 in the morning they hadn't already heard?
Then the man in the wheelchair told them about Invictus.
He told them not to worry about negatives that would come along during the season, but to prepare for how they would handle whatever they turned out to be.
He told them that's what he does.
In the first preseason game after the speech, the Ravens were in a deep hole at halftime. David Modell, the team president, told Art, who was sitting next to him in the owner's box, that if they somehow pulled out the win, he was going to put the word "Invictus" on the scoreboard.
The Ravens won. Thereafter, following every win, "Invictus" was put on the board.
During the team's only real slump, a three-game losing streak at midseason, coach Brian Billick called the players together, pulled out Henley's poem, and dissected every line.
They would not lose again.
Last week, the Ravens called Art at his home in Highland, Utah, and invited him to training camp. When he arrived, he went to lunch with, among others, Modell and Billick. There, they pulled out a large jewelry box. Inside was a Baltimore Ravens XXXV Super Bowl ring, with Art's name on it.
The $28,000 14-carat gold ring has 40 diamonds and a ruby eye, with a football field backdrop of white gold.
And on both sides, in bold, beautiful letters, there is this single word: INVICTUS.
Lee Benson's column runs Sunday, Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Please send e-mail to benson@desnews.com and faxes to 801-237-2527.