Nowhere is the magic of Bowen more evident than in time-critical sporting applications.
Eyes wide, an alarmed player dashes out of the game both hands clutching his sternum, or
grimacing in pain gingerly carrying a wrist aloft, or limping and contorted, favoring an injury
that is not immediately evident, or staring vacantly staggering and unsteady. He or she may only
say, “can’t breathe” or “something popped” or “my fingers went numb” or “I saw stars.” You
have only seconds to apply a move or two, or if you’re lucky, a full minute to work some magic
before the player sucks it up and has to go back in the game.
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Reprinted by permission of Craig Mattimoe