Scott Radley: 50 years. 40,000 patients. One Hamilton sports medicine doctor
One of the first things the longtime Hamilton Tiger-Cats' team doctor tells his students who want to be in sports medicine is that when they're on the sideline during a game, keep your eyes on the play. You don't want to become the patient.
Naturally then, one of the few times he got distracted and found himself staring at the scoreboard, a giant football player moving at full gallop got shoved out of bounds.
The next thing I know, I was flying," Dr. David Levy says. I was knocked right out of my shoes."
It's OK. He survived basically unscathed, though he's serious about the shoes. If nothing else, it gave him a reminder of what some of the people who have come through his office feel. All 40,000 of them.
The other day, one of his residents was on the computer and noticed Levy had just passed that milestone. Not 40,000 appointments. Forty thousand individuals. Meaning roughly one out of every 15 people in Hamilton has seen him.
Even he was shocked.
Had you suggested he'd reach this number back when he became the first sports medicine specialist in the city nearly 50 years ago, he might've diagnosed you with a concussion.
There was no such thing as sports medicine back then. There were no MRI machines or ultrasounds or CT scans. The Ticats' team doctors in 1972 were two physicians from Stelco who were terrific with sprains and strains and cuts and broken bones and other injuries common in heavy industry. But, a specialty in athletic injuries?
People didn't even know what sports medicine was," he says. A lot of my colleagues thought I was doing something just so I could stand on the sidelines."
The fact is, if he could have been an elite athlete himself, he might have gone that route. But he was small. Nor would this milestone have been reached if he'd pursued another earlier passion.
The guy who sat in classes at Central High with Martin Short and took university classes with Eugene Levy - no relation - and Ivan Reitman was interested in the arts and was a DJ on McMaster radio for a while. But, his greatest fascination was medicine.
Serendipity arrives at unexpected moments.
One evening, he attended the B'nai B'rith sports celebrity dinner and heard legendary Ticat trainer Jimmie Simpson speak. Afterwards, Levy introduced himself and said he'd just started medical school and was interested in sports. Simpson invited him to come to the stadium whenever he wanted. So he did.
One thing led to another and soon he was sewing guys up and resetting dislocated fingers and more. A lot more.
I've seen incredible things in football," the 70-year-old says.
His definition of incredible and yours might be slightly different. You might choose the word disgusting' instead. Dislocated hips and knees and elbows, broken bones sticking through the skin, frightening head and neck injuries and more. He was on the field when Tom Pate was knocked out and never regained consciousness.
In time, he became doctor for McMaster teams, the Toronto Rock, the Hamilton Steelers, hockey teams including the Bulldogs on occasion, and others. And the Ticats, of course, from which he finally retired a few years ago.
But, even with all those, you don't get to 40,000 patients. He gets to that number by launching a sports medicine clinic in an small empty lecture hall in the basement of Mac's athletic centre in 1983. Word got out and it soon drew everyone. Still does.
Kids, minor athletes, rep teams, high school players, Olympic kids, pro athletes, weekend warriors," he says.
Not to mention dancers, pickleball players and dragon boat racers and anything else. You name the sport, he's treated someone who plays it. You name the body part, he's dealt with it at least once or twice.
Along the way, he's trained dozens and dozens of doctors and therapists who now work in the field. That, he says, is the real impact he's had.
Anybody I know who's worked in sports medicine, probably across the country, has had some teaching from him," says McMaster and Bulldogs team doctor, Dr. David Robinson, who counts himself among that group.
For the record, that time Levy was obliterated on the sideline wasn't the only time the healer became the patient.
Years ago, he was standing behind a giant Ticat who had no idea he was there. As the large lineman excitedly spun around to grab his helmet and run onto the field, his shoulder pad smashed into Levy's face, breaking his nose.
I just held a cloth to it to stop the bleeding," he says.
And continued working.
Scott Radley is a Hamilton-based columnist at The Spectator. Reach him via email: sradley@thespec.com