Hampton’s Unsung Hero: The Tumultuous Tale of Tyler Thompson
A 16-year-old boy sits on the side of a dark road.
Blue and red lights flash in the distance as sirens wail through the night, drawing closer by the second.
But the boy doesn’t notice. Instead, all he sees is the limp body in his arms — a friend, knocked unconscious, from an accident they and two others just miraculously have survived.
More than a year later, that friend, having been removed from his medically-induced coma, accompanies the boy onto a football field.
Once they reach the field, though, it is no longer the friend in danger, but the boy.
For when the boy — now 17 — gazes through his face mask, his perspective is only halfway normal.
On the boy’s left, there is the typical view: teammates, coaches, opponents and a ball that whistles through the East Tennessee air.
But on his right, there is nothing but black: complete blindness from an infection incurred two weeks prior.
The boy can no longer recall the previous year’s wreck, which resulted in a severe concussion and several other injuries.
But a football-induced infection that now causes blindness in one eye? That, he’ll remember forever.
The pain. The taunts. The love. The grit. The fear. The hope.
Two mutually exclusive, future-twisting events. Countless lives changed forever. A postseason transplant set to restore the boy’s vision — and season — that have not been lost, but merely interrupted.
All experienced by one senior football player, who is willing to risk everything if it means a chance at one more snap.
This is the improbable, illogical, irresistible story of Tyler Thompson.
The Wreck That Started It All
For Tyler, July 14, 2020, started off as any other day.
He woke up. He dressed. He ate. He talked with friends.
And eventually, as many older children of divorce do, he drove from his dad’s house in Elizabethton, Tennessee, to his mother’s residence in Morristown — just over an hour’s drive.
After arriving in Morristown, Tyler linked up with several friends in the area, and all were in the mood for one late-night craving: Taco Bell.
Granted, this is far from an uncommon occurrence for teenagers on a summer evening.
Except when one curve was taken too quickly.
The car, a black Nissan Altima driven by one of the friends, slammed head-on into a tree.
Picture Provided by : Courtesy of Thompson family
When the paramedics arrived, they found a scene straight out of a horror movie.
The vehicle was crinkled like a paper ball, so much that “you couldn’t even tell what kind of car it was,” recalled Tyler’s father, Jason.
The windshield was broken, where the driver broke his hand slamming his fist into glass, then digging into the rubble to help his friends.
“There was nothing left of the car, really,” Jason added.
Thankfully for the Thompsons, Tyler survived where the car did not. Still, he suffered several injuries.
A broken arm and hand; cracked ribs; a punctured lung; a concussion so severe that he would be sidelined from football for a year; a cut to the collarbone where the seatbelt had sliced into flesh like a knife; and, days later, scabs with no origin Jason could pinpoint.
“Tough when you get a call that your kid’s been in a wreck like that, too,” Jason said. “Not something you want to go through. I can’t imagine being 16 years old and seeing what he saw that night.”
And yet, Tyler was one of the luckier ones.
Per Jason’s recollection, another girl suffered multiple gashes, resulting in 126 stitches and several facial surgeries.
Then, there was Ashton: the friend described at the outset of this story. Together, he and Tyler formed an emotionally grotesque focal point for the scene paramedics encountered.
For, when the EMTs arrived, they saw Ashton being cradled in his friend’s arms, with Tyler — injuries be damned — bearing Ashton’s body weight so his friend didn’t have to touch pavement.
Immediately, the ambulance workers sprang into action. Tyler, who had helped the other three people out of the car, was taken to East Tennessee Children’s Hospital in Knoxville.
Picture Provided by : Courtesy of Thompson family
Ashton, meanwhile, was helicoptered to UT Medical Center’s trauma facility. During the ride, he registered no brain function.
In miles, the friends were not far apart. But in terms of life? Tyler would live. Ashton was hanging on by a thread.
“It was a couple days before we knew whether he’d make it,” Jason said. And it was a couple months, three-and-a-half to be exact, before Ashton was well enough for Tyler to even see him.
Eventually, though, Ashton healed. After an arduous rehabilitation process, he has found his way back to life — even being able to drive a car and walk with Tyler on Senior Night this season.
“It’s a miracle what they can do in a hospital and trauma center,” Jason said.
For Ashton, the repercussions of that night left in a more serious state than anyone else.
But for Tyler, the mental and physical toll shifted his entire destination in life.
Because from the moment he stepped out of the hospital doors until he took his forced position on the bench, Tyler’s aftershock from the wreck left him with an upgraded outlook.
“Kids go through phases in life,” said Jason. “My wife and I got Tyler and his sister about three-and-a-half years ago. It was different for Tyler, it was hard for Tyler. He resented us some, and it was a hard time for a little bit.
“But when he walked out of the hospital, he was a totally different kid. He read his Bible, and he’s responded the way any parent would want him to — very thankful to be alive. It definitely changed him for the better.”
10 years from now, Tyler may make the same statement about the eye issues with which he’s dealt this season.
The ironic part, though? Those events, too, started as routinely as the first.
But, like the wreck, the aftermath from this infection has been anything but normal.
A Lost Right Eye
October 1, 2021.
Over a year removed from the wreck that changed so much, Tyler is back on the field for another Friday night.
It’s the fifth game of his senior year, and, so far, the cornerback and wide receiver is playing well for the Hampton Bulldogs — a team that welcomed him with open arms after he transferred from Elizabethton his sophomore season.
On this night, Tyler’s Bulldogs mount a 21-point comeback before falling 28-22 against rival South Greene.
After the game, he returns home to find his dad, stepmother and sisters playing a board game. Rather than join them, though, Tyler heads to bed — and sleeps in his contacts.
“Something he’s done a thousand times,” Jason later recalls.
The following morning, Tyler wakes with pain in his right eye. Not terrible, just enough to be a bother.
“He gets real bad allergies this time of year,” Jason said. “So we just thought it was that.”
That Sunday, though, Tyler feels even worse. And by Monday, a seemingly routine reaction has turned far more serious.
At that point, Tyler has no vision in his swollen right eye, the pain so severe that he can’t hold it. So he unleashes a scream.
The family rushes him to the Emergency Room, where is no immediate diagnosis. The attending physician, not knowing what the issue could be, calls in an optometrist who prescribes antibiotic drops.
Oh, if only there were blood flow.
After dispensing the drops every few minutes for several days, Tyler and his family — still with no answer — end up at Johnson City Eye Hospital.
Finally, they learn how everything may have unfolded.
Perhaps it was grass, perhaps it was dirt, perhaps it was another item entirely that found its way into Tyler’s eye during the South Greene game, explained corneal transplant specialist Dr. Joshua Busscher.
But something had gotten stuck under Tyler’s contact lens, and when he slept in it that Friday night, the item had remained in long enough to plant the seed of infection.
That infection, after subsiding, left Tyler’s eye looking “real nasty,” as Jason recalled.
But the infection also left something worse: a scar, plastered over Tyler’s cornea, that blocked his vision out of that eye.
And it is the cornea, explained Busscher to the Thompsons, that is the one part of the eye to not receive blood flow.
So the antibiotic drops were all for naught.
And now, as the mentioning of Busscher’s title would allude, Tyler will require a corneal transplant in January of 2022.
During that transplant, doctors will remove eight millimeters of his cornea. They will then put a cadaver cornea in its place, and Tyler will have to remain on his back for several days until it settles into his eye.
Four to six months later, Tyler will be fitted with a corrective lens — at which point he could recover “90 to 95 percent” of the vision that’s been lost.
Finally, the new cornea will be sewn in with stitches — which will have to remain in for an entire year after the surgery.
Currently, the Thompson family is pushing for the TSSAA to allow for a medical redshirt, as the surgery will prevent his graduating with his class this May.
And if he can get one more year of football next season? All the better, even though one sideways hit could knock loose the cadaver cornea that will have then been in place for at least eight months.
“As a parent, I’m not going to tell him no,” said Jason, who added that, during his senior year, he played on torn anterior and medial cruciate ligaments that ultimately forced him out of contention as a top baseball prospect.
Instead, Jason accepted a golf scholarship to Milligan College. Still, the competitive fire remained.
And it is that fire that remains stoked in Tyler now — not just to encourage him for next year, but to drive him to succeed right now.
Because for Tyler, there may be a tomorrow, at least if the TSSAA has anything to say about it.
But if you watch his film, he’s playing as if there isn’t another chance — even if that means only having one eye to unleash havoc all over the field.
Picture Provided by : Courtesy of Carter County Sports
The One-Eyed Menace’
After the infection, Tyler sat out the Bulldogs’ next game against Cumberland Gap.
Finally, after begging his eye doctor for permission, the senior was able to return to the field for Hampton’s matchup against Unaka.
But there was one condition: he had to wear an eye patch.
Poetically, Tyler’s first game back was also Hampton’s senior night — which meant his first game as a half-blind player also served as the night he and Ashton walked onto the field together.
Both recovered from the wreck, both rejoicing after all they had endured, but one left to fight with half the vision possessed by most.
Before kickoff, Mike Lunsford, Hampton’s coach, came to Jason with a simple, impactful statement: “If I could have a team full of Tylers, I would. He gives it all he’s got.”
But once Tyler took the field, he was greeted with far less kindness.
Opponents had gotten wind of his story, and rather than respecting Tyler for the effort, two players spat back with three spiteful words: “One-eyed b***h.”
Tyler, in turn, took opportunities — between the whistles, no less — to send each one tumbling head over heels: a legal response to their pre-snap mouthiness.
“He’s very tough,” Jason said. “He’s learned how to deal with pain. He’s just dealt with it. My dad was a farmer – my dad always taught me to stick up for yourself.
“To see him go after them… if they want to act that way, to see him pay that back by his ability is rewarding as a parent.”
“If I have to take 15 yards, I’ll take 15 yards,” Tyler quipped. “But one way or another, I’ll knock them on their ass.”
With that mentality in mind, and seeing their teammate deliver those hits, Tyler’s friends christened him with a title: “The One-Eyed Menace.”
While Tyler has been a menace on the field, though, his feelings for his friends are far different.
“The only thing I cared about was being out there with my team,” he said.
That team returned the favor. And so has the Hampton community.
The Thompsons have reiterated how much the support has meant — support that, according to Jason, they may not have gotten had Tyler still been at Elizabethton.
“It’s not something we were used to,” Jason said. “That really helped more than anything, just how many people wanted to see him back out there.”
“They’re really supportive. I wouldn’t trade the team I have for any,” Tyler said. “They understand I’m at a disadvantage, but they’re always pushing me to be better. They help me adjust to this.
“Without the team I have right now, there’s no telling if I’d be out there.“
“The support all around are making him feel welcome, all the prayers,” Jason said. “We’ve gotten a lot of support from people we don’t even know.”
Buoyed by that spirit and his own desire, Tyler
reiterated to his coaches that he doesn’t want to be treated any differently than any other player.
“Just because I’ve got a disadvantage doesn’t mean I can’t bust my butt every day,” he said.
And he has — despite having to form different habits in his game.
As a receiver, Tyler has grown accustomed to following the ball with one eye.
He’s fast enough to blaze ahead of defenders, and his wiry frame has allowed him to configure his body to haul in some impressive catches.
As a cornerback, he has learned how to feel the receiver — not in a hold, but to touch and sense when the offensive player turns. That way, he knows when to go up for the ball.
He also scoots back a little more on defense, allowing himself more room to gauge a receiver’s hips. Then, he can stick his hand in an opponent’s face, which, ironically, renders that person unable to see.
“If you can’t see the ball go into your hands, you’re probably not going to catch it,” Tyler adds with a grin.
The eye issue has cost him dearly on one occasion, as Tyler knelt for an interception that would have been easy for defensive backs with normal vision.
But because the ball was spinning toward his right side, he didn’t see it until it was too late.
Then again, there have also been occasions where Jason and other parents can’t help but say, “Wow.”
A week after Tyler’s return, the Bulldogs took the field in pouring rain to face off against Daniel Boone.
Tyler, playing corner, went up to defend a pass with his blind eye closest to the receiver: incomplete.
“I still don’t think he even saw that ball when he batted it down,” Jason said.
Following Tyler’s nickname and the on-field success, Jason has had custom eye patches made — as well as a custom pair of white Nike Vapor Elite cleats.
Picture Provided by : Courtesy of Thompson family
The patches, which Tyler still wears to school and games, are made with either his number 7, the Hampton logo or the verse Tyler has used as a mantra since the doctor first told him he could play again: Isaiah 60:22.
“When the time is right, I, the Lord, will make it happen.”
The verse is plastered on the side of Tyler’s cleats, along with a painting of him in an eyepatch, batting down a pass.
Picture Provided by : Courtesy of Thompson family
And along the toe, in blue lettering, is Tyler’s nickname: “The One-Eyed Menace.”
The placement is especially fitting given Tyler’s newest role: kicker.
‘He will do anything…’
Since Tyler’s return, the Bulldogs have gone 4-1 in Class 2A.
This Friday night, they’ll take the field against Trousdale County with a state championship berth on the line.
And if the game comes down to the wire, and the Bulldogs need a last-minute field goal? Well, look no further than the kid in the eyepatch.
After Hampton’s second-round matchup against Rockwood, the Bulldogs’ former kicker left the team for unspecified reasons.
As soon as Tyler found out, he went out to the backyard to practice.
Never mind the pouring rain. Never mind that he was already half-blind. Never mind that he had only headlights as a source of illumination.
“He will do anything to help his team win,” Jason said via text.
Over and over, Tyler sent the ball screaming through the mud and into the net using only his right foot. Thump. Thump. Thump.
This weekend, that thumping could also come from Tyler’s heart if the Bulldogs pull off a win to advance to the state title game.
And he could always get another shot next year, if the TSSAA does in fact grant him a medical redshirt.
No matter what happens, though, this year has been one to remember for the Thompson family — and for the Hampton community as a whole.
And Tyler has earned a lifetime’s worth of titles along the way.
“It’s made me realize to never take anything for granted,” Tyler said. “Appreciate what you have because any moment, something little or something every day in your life can be taken away in second.”
“Me and him have talked about (a state championship) quite a bit, Jason said. “He’s got a ring from Elizabethton. But he didn’t see the field at all during the playoffs that year. The fact that he’s starting (at Hampton), and he’s one of the leaders, it would mean the world to him.
Then, Jason stepped away from the football side, and focused on what a ring would mean given all Tyler has endured.
“He’s been through so much,” Jason said, his voice cracking with emotion. “There’s a lot more he’s overcome that’s not even in this story.
“I know a lot more about what he’s dealt with in life. It means the world to me and my wife to see him be able to do this.”
As for Tyler?
“It would mean the world,” he said. “Even all (I’ve been through), it would mean everything to me,” he said. “Coming to Hampton made me realize these boys may not have the best stuff. But the one thing they do have is heart. I can tell how much it means. It would be the highlight of my life.”
And given everything that’s happened, could he go so far as to view a state title from all he’s endured?
“It is really hard to put it in a personal perspective,” he said. “We’re a family. It’s not about myself. It’s about this team, and it’s about us making history.”
“The one thing that I could say personally, is that at Elizabethton, I may have gotten a ring. But I wasn’t really getting much playing time. But over here, I’ve contributed way more than I did in the past. That’s what means a lot to me, that I’ve contributed to something this big, that means so much to all these people.”
If Hampton does beat Trousdale County and win again to lift a gold ball, the impact within that community would be unquestionable.
One could say the same thing, though, about the story of Tyler Thompson: a tale of hope, of heart, of grit, and of thanks.
For what he’s endured. For what he’s become.
And for what lies ahead: a future that is undoubtedly bright — despite half his current perspective still being as dark as the road where this journey began.
—
Jake Nichols YHSS/SI
This weekend, two different teams with totally different circumstances will travel from the Elizabethton area to Chattanooga, Tennessee — site of this year’s TSSAA BlueCross Bowl state championship games.One team, clad in orange and black, has been in this situation before.
Representing Class 4A, Shawn Witten’s Elizabethton Cyclones are looking for a three-peat after winning the state championship last season and the year prior.
So no, this is nothing new. Not since 2019, at least, when Elizabethton beat Springfield to capture its first state title in the modern era.And last year, “Betsy” did it again by dismantling Haywood 41-14.
This season, the Cyclones (12-1) — who upset 4A favorite Greeneville last week in what has become an annual battle between the two — will face undefeated Tullahoma in an attempt to hoist their third-straight gold ball.
Those teams will kick off at 11 a.m. EST on Saturday at Finley Stadium.
By 2:30 p.m, though? With or without another state title, the Cyclones and their fans won’t be on buses back to Elizabethton.
Instead, they’ll be in the stands to cheer for the other team from their area: a much smaller team, clad in dark and light blue, whose players face far different — yet equally daunting — circumstances as the neighbors who are located just 15 minutes north.
The Hampton Bulldogs, out of Class 2A, are playing for their first football state championship in school history.
To reach this point, they stormed back in the final minute of last week’s 2A semifinal to beat Trousdale County — a team with nine state titles — in a matchup straight out of “David vs. Goliath.”
