At 27, he was convinced he could do anything and didn't need anyone - then Rüdiger Böhm had a "rendezvous with a truck", fought for his life, and lost both legs. Today, the 46-year-old supports others in pushing their limits and getting the most out of their abilities. "Those who don't allow themselves to be coached are to blame," says the cheerful man.
Mr. Böhm, how did it happen that you are no longer standing on your own feet today, but on carbon and plastic prostheses?
Rüdiger Böhm: The accident happened one day before my 27th birthday. I was out for the first time with my new racing bike, couldn't believe how well this miracle thing rolled. Unfortunately, the fun only lasted for 45 minutes, then I had my rendezvous with a truck. We both started in the same direction at a confusing intersection, he hit me from behind and rolled over my racing bike and legs with the front wheel. Afterward, I was sitting on the curb, the left lower leg was bent, blood was flowing continuously from the right thigh.
You describe it like an emergency doctor and not like an affected person.
Rüdiger Böhm: Strangely, I was fully conscious and didn't feel any pain. I even told the doctor who happened to arrive at the accident scene my name and phone numbers for informing my family. Only then did I gradually drift away - and didn't wake up for three weeks.
Was it soon clear that your legs could not be saved?
Rüdiger Böhm: Initially, the focus was on whether I would survive. On the first day of surgery in the intensive care unit in Darmstadt, 130 units of blood were transfused through me. It was quickly evident that the right thigh had to be amputated. My hemoglobin level had dropped to 2 due to the massive blood loss, normal levels are 14 to 18 grams per deciliter of blood. Ten hours after the accident, the doctors told my parents that the chances of survival were 2 percent. I was intubated in an induced coma, pumped full of a cocktail of hallucinogens that would have made for a great party under different circumstances. Fortunately, not a single organ failed. Another stroke of luck was that there was almost nothing else going on at this municipal hospital, which was not equipped for such severe cases. This allowed all doctors to focus on me.
When was it clear that you would also lose the left lower leg?
Rüdiger Böhm: The problem was that the artery in the back of the knee had ruptured. So my foot became colder, swollen, and paler, I had a constant fever over 41.5 degrees Celsius, my body was poisoning itself, kidney and liver values were low. After three weeks, my left lower leg was amputated. Two days later, I woke up and quickly realized: life had fundamentally changed for me.
What kind of person were you before the accident?
Rüdiger Böhm: In short, a self-absorbed, arrogant jerk. I was very focused on appearances, proud of my achievements as a triathlete and soccer coach, always tanned, with a ton of gel in my hair - and otherwise thinking I didn't need anyone and nothing could happen to me.
How quickly did you come to terms with your disability?
Rüdiger Böhm: When a good friend visited me in the hospital, we watched a match of Boris Becker at Wimbledon together. Suddenly, it dawned on me: playing tennis, skiing, cycling - none of that was possible anymore. I found it very unfair and wondered what I had done to deserve it. Fortunately, I soon realized that there was no answer to such questions; that I had to accept the situation and focus on what was possible. We all have the choice of where to direct our attention. What was very helpful for me was that in my first physiotherapy session, my therapist told me, "Rüdi, you will walk again." That gave me a new goal and ignited my fighting spirit.
That sounds reasonable, but was it really that easy?
Rüdiger Böhm: No, it wasn't easy, you can't just flip a switch. The mind understands the new situation relatively quickly, but emotions take time. It couldn't be done without grief and the pain of saying goodbye. It's important to allow yourself to be sad. If you suppress or play it down, it will catch up with you in 10 or 15 years. Equally important for me was humor. Many friends were unsure, didn't know how to deal with the situation. Sometimes I would say, "The truck ran over my legs, not my head. I just can't walk at the moment, but otherwise, everything is fine."
How difficult was it to regain a foothold professionally? There were no soccer coaches without legs until then.
Rüdiger Böhm: Surprisingly, the accident actually made it easier for me to enter the profession. I had already obtained the B license as a coach. At the headquarters of the German Football Association (DFB), which is less than 30 kilometers from Darmstadt, they collected donations for me after the accident, and the general secretary asked if he could do anything for me. Three years after the accident, I had the A license, later took over the C youth team in Karlsruhe and won the Southern German Championship in the first attempt - among others against Thomas Tuchel, the current Dortmund coach. Later, I was the head of youth development at Karlsruher SC for ten years and then responsible for the U-21 team of FC Thun for three years, where I worked closely with Andres Gerber and Murat Yakin.
So, it wasn't a handicap that you couldn't kick the ball yourself as a coach?
Rüdiger Böhm: Yes and no. That wasn't relevant for my coaching work. A coach must make the players stronger, support them in taking more responsibility, making brave decisions, and developing personally and athletically. I succeeded in that. However, the step to the top of a first team was denied to me. With legs, I would surely have had the chance, as I had trained many future professionals and players repeatedly mentioned me when a head coach position was open. Apparently, professional football is not yet ready for it. There simply wasn't a president brave enough to appoint a coach with prostheses as the head. In football, there are only beautiful, strong, ideal people allowed. Homosexuality is frowned upon, showing weakness is not allowed. Could I change that? Could I agree with it? No! That's why I hung up my coaching boots and became a speaker, coach, and motivational trainer.
It is undoubtedly impressive when people achieve a lot and lead a fulfilling life despite a severe setback. What impact do your speeches have on those who have not had such an experience?
Rüdiger Böhm: The core question is whether we need such a turning point to focus more on the essentials and our strengths. Perhaps I could have achieved that even without the accident, but it would have taken much longer. My goal is to sensitize other people to where they hinder themselves, where they draw their boundaries too tightly. Many draw courage from my example. At first, I thought I would be a poor disabled cripple for the rest of my life, who couldn't take a step without help. Then I fought back step by step: standing alone, urinating standing up, showering alone, brushing teeth, walking with and without crutches, driving, skiing, freeriding, water skiing sitting down, climbing, swimming, golfing. Nobody should have to copy that, everyone fights with their own limits. I want to be an example of what is possible and support others in pushing their limits through coaching.
What was the biggest gain for you?
Rüdiger Böhm: Now I always get a parking spot in the first row and never have cold feet. Seriously: The most significant impact is that I have learned humility and gratitude. I appreciate small things more, am less preoccupied with myself, and as a result, I have a clearer view of the world and other people. And I find it fantastic what coaching can achieve. In simple terms: Those who don't allow themselves to be coached to make the most of their abilities are to blame!
As a young athlete, you set many goals - what does that look like today?
Rüdiger Böhm: I haven't run out of goals. I would like to participate in the Ironman Triathlon in Hawaii, which is damn difficult as there are very few slots for people with disabilities. Furthermore, I am driven by the idea of being the first to ski down an untouched slope from a mountain peak on a monoski. And as a speaker, I would like to one day tell a part of my story in front of 16,500 people at the Westfalenhalle in Dortmund. It is now documented in written form. I hesitated for a long time to write a book, but now I am grateful for this experience. Writing brings a lot of clarity. Now I hope that many readers will draw strength from my story.
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