HE CAN'T PLAY BALL ANYMORE; NOW HE HELPS KIDS WHO CAN
By Amy Welch, Managing Editor, Florida State Times
Aubry Boyd, one of the most endearing basketball players ever to grace Florida State, wants to give the world something more.
He gave Florida State his talent from 1987 to 1991 on the basketball court and in the classroom. He volunteered at Boys and Girls Clubs, at senior citizen centers and in his home town, Macon, Ga., at the Association for Retarded Citizens, where he worked with two people who were chained to wheelchairs.
And now, two years after he found himself in a wheelchair, paralyzed from the neck down, Boyd, 28, continues to help others.
Already armed with a bachelor's degree in child development from FSU, Boyd returned to FSU to earn a master's degree in child development last fall. He hopes to coach at a youth league or a middle school one day and work with juveniles, "before they take that wrong turn in life."
Those who know Boyd have no doubt that he will make a difference in some child's life. They express no doubt that he has the courage, the spirit and the heart to find peace within himself.
But the last two years tested all that. Through rehabilitation, he has started to get feeling back in his right leg, and he can move his arms and hands. But he still wonders if it's true that he cannot walk, or slam dunk a basketball in front of thousands of fans. Their cheers still echo in his mind.
"I'll always be depressed at times about the things I used to do," he said. "I was a socialite a wild man. You can't go out and be with the guys because you always feel like you're a burden.
"I'm used to doing everything on my own. I was a young man, playing basketball. I had two jobs and a degree. But you can't let that be your crutch. I take the good with the bad. I still have my mind, my heart."
It was October 1995 when Boyd was thrown the biggest challenge of his life.
A couple of guys from the neighborhood stopped by and asked if he wanted to play some tackle football. He didn't really want to play, but they needed him, so he agreed to join them. He thought he would sit out and watch when more guys showed up.
In only the fourth play of the game, the ball was snapped over his head. Boyd and a player from the opposing team went for the ball and bumped heads. He lay on the ground, feeling as if he had just knocked his funny bone. But when he tried to pick up his arms and then looked down at his feet, he knew something was very wrong.
His coach, Pat Kennedy (now at DePaul University) was there to support Boyd. He still sees him as a star.
"He was a man who wore many hats," Kennedy said. "He was a team captain. At times, the team clown. He was the kind of individual that we gave recruits to. ... He was a deep thinker about the game and what we had to do. He was just the kind of individual who brought a lot to the team."
One day Boyd hopes to be the kind of coach that Kennedy was to him. As often as he thinks of something Kennedy told him, he wants the kids he coaches to do the same for him. He said when he watches basketball, it's as if he's still playing.
"I want them, when they don't know what to do in a situation, to look back at me and remember a thing that I said," Boyd explained. "I want them to think of Aubry Boyd."
Even with all these dreams, it's hard for him to think of himself as he once was. He was the team captain. He was the guy coaches asked to recruit other players, like Bobby Sura, who now plays for the Cleveland Cavaliers. He would take them dancing. He would pick up girls with them.
When they hung out with Aubry Boyd, they didn't want to leave.
These days, Boyd still has that wild man spirit. But for someone who became so independent, it is relying on other people to take him here or there that really breaks him sometimes, he said.
He can't just hop in his car and go volunteer on the basketball court. He has to wait for his ride. He can't just go to meetings with classmates, because he has to wait for his ride. He can't make it to class on time, because his wheelchair might be acting up again, or he may be waiting for his ride.
But he does go. He goes late or very early. That's why Bob O'Neal, former director of FSU's Career Center and a Boyd admirer, set up the Aubry Boyd Van Fund, to raise $55,000 for a specialized van.
"When these things happen to people, there's a lot of attention at first," O'Neal said. "Then as time goes on it dissipates. Then you spend time alone, and he can't lift himself. If he falls, he can't pick himself back up. Those feelings have got to bore into you in time.
"I'd just like to see him do as much as he can with his life. He's got a good mind and a good personality."
Kennedy isn't surprised by Boyd's stamina or selflessness. He or O'Neal neither will take the credit set up the first fund for Boyd, called the Aubry Boyd Fund, and Kennedy dedicated his last season at Florida State to Boyd - all of the players wore "A.B." patches in his honor.
With their help and notice from friends like Vikings Quarterback Brad Johnson, an FSU alumnus, the Aubry Boyd Van Fund (The Center for Independent Living, 572 Appleyard Dr., Tallahassee, FL 32304) is almost there. Another fund (The Aubry Boyd Fund, Capital City Bank, P.O. Box 900, Tallahassee, FL 32302) helps with medical and rehabilitation expenses.
"People expect me to be down," Boyd said. "But I'm still Aubry Boyd. I'm just Aubry Boyd in a wheelchair."