Canyon Receiver Runs Tough Route

He sprinted into the corner of the end zone, turning just in time to see the football spiraling his way. He snatched the ball from the cool, night sky, and in an instant, was mugged by his teammates with hugs and high fives.

Technically, it wasn’t much more than your average touchdown pass play. A seven-yard toss from quarterback to receiver. The first six points in a 16-0 victory. A catch made by hundreds, maybe thousands of high school boys across the country that night.

But for those who know the story of Canyon High senior Derek James Marshall--”D.J.” to his family and friends--this was, indeed, a special moment, one that few would have imagined him being capable of a year or two ago.

On a September night in 1989, Marshall went to sleep feeling as healthy as a 15-year-old boy could be. The next morning, he awoke and knew something was terribly wrong. He felt horrible, utterly exhausted, as if somehow he was living through death.

For three hours, the normally stoic boy couldn’t stop crying, terrified about what was happening to him. His mother rushed him to a doctor, but there were no immediate answers, only questions. What have you eaten? What did you drink? Have you visited any foreign countries lately?

One by one, diseases were ruled out. It wasn’t mono or the Epstein-Barr virus. It wasn’t Lyme’s disease, hepatitis or a host of other illnesses.

Finally, doctors detected an unusually high liver enzyme count in Marshall’s bloodstream. A liver biopsy showed that there was scaring on his liver, but because Marshall didn’t drink alcohol and had no past history of liver disease, no one knew why.

Doctors were sure of one thing: whatever Marshall had wasn’t contagious. He could stop eating with plastic forks and paper plates. He could go to school, at least as much as he was able.

But doing anything seemed to exhaust him, and he couldn’t eat. He lost 20 pounds in the first week, 30 pounds over three weeks. Once stocky, even chubby, Marshall’s 5-foot-11 frame looked almost skeletal at 119 pounds.

One night, he walked into his parents’ room and asked if they thought he had cancer. Doctors assured the family that that wasn’t the case. They theorized the problem was some type of viral infection of the liver, but they said there was no way to be sure. Liver medicine is still not well understood.

No medication or treatment could be prescribed. No guarantees could be given. No promises were made. Marshall was monitored with monthly blood tests, and was given two rules to live by: Don’t drink alcohol. Don’t get overtired.

The first rule was easy, the second seemed impossible. Marshall was dragging himself through life as it was, physically and psychologically.

Although he became well enough to play the last few sophomore football games, plus most of the sophomore basketball and baseball games, he was sick again soon after. His doctors told him playing the next football season was out of the question.

With his family’s encouragement, Marshall started kicking last year. He took lessons from former NFL kicker Ben Agajanian, a 72-year-old private instructor, and got in a few second-half kickoffs and extra-point attempts to earn his varsity letter without exhausting himself. Just getting into the games elated Marshall.

(About this time, another crisis occurred. On the day before Thanksgiving, Marshall’s father, Jim, was found to have kidney cancer. Despite what some doctors have described as a bleak outlook, the family continues to have hope. They believe it can be overcome through medical treatment, diet and positive imaging. “My doctors won’t admit it yet,” Jim said, “but I’ve kicked it.”)

When baseball season came around last spring, D.J. was feeling strong and ready to play. But he says he was told by the baseball coaches there would be no playing time for him--either on the varsity or junior varsity.

“I was told I had a bad attitude,” Marshall said with a twinge of bitterness. “I think they thought I was contagious or something.”

Canyon Coach Hi Lavalle said he had Marshall in a physical education class the previous fall, and that Marshall was unable to exert himself. “Above and beyond that was his attitude,” Lavalle said.

(For the record, Marshall received all “O’s” (for outstanding citizenship) on his most-recent report card. Several other coaches at the school say he is the ideal, hard-working role model--”You can’t find a better kid as far as attitude goes,” Canyon football Coach Loren Shumer said.)

Marshall was angry, but took it out on the weight room, lifting with a vengeance during the winter season. At the same time, he started forcing himself to think positive, focusing his mind on getting well--and staying well. He carried a note in his pocket that said:

I’m not going to be sick.

I’m not going to be sick.

I’m going to be better.

He read it several times a day.

His next blood test came in March. The test was clean--his first clean test in 18 months. His doctor told him if the next four tests were clean, he’d be allowed to play his senior season of football, full contact.

In April, his test was clean. In May: clean. June: clean. July: clean.

“I went in and said, ‘So now can I play?’ ” Marshall said. “The doctor said, ‘Well, let’s wait one more test.’ ”

He tested in August, and called the hospital for his results. They told him they had none. The centrifuge broke while his blood was being spun, and all the test tubes crashed to the floor. He’d have to take a new test. He did, but the results revealed his enzyme count to be at elevated levels.

“I got real down on myself for two days,” Marshall says. “And then I said, ‘Screw it. I’m not going to be sick!’ And ever since, I’ve been healthy.”

His touchdown catch Friday night came in front of many friends and relatives. As he headed off the field after the game, several fans began chanting “D.J.! D.J.!” Marshall described it as one of the best nights of his life.

His doctors cannot determine if his ailment will return, but for now Marshall says he’s happy just to focus on staying healthy.

“It’s so great . . . I don’t know how to describe it,” he said. “I just feel like a normal kid again.”