“A few years ago, my teenage son came up to me and said: ‘Hey Dad, I want to start skateboarding.’
I was 52 years old and I’d never been on a skateboard in my life, but I was like, absolutely, let’s do this together. One of the biggest skate parks in Toronto was just five minutes from our house, so I figured it would be easy and harmless to go roll around for a bit.
Fast forward six months, and my son had lost all interest, but I was still at the park skateboarding three, four hours a day every day. I just became a total skate rat very, very quickly. Most people in the Toronto skate scene came to know me as the old guy who started skating. But they’d also tell you I could pull off some ridiculous tricks for how recently I started skating. I’d be nose sliding down the 16-set and people would be like, what?
Then came the day: April 20, 2023. I’d just finished a skate session, getting some video clips, and I hopped on my bicycle to head home. Next thing I know I’m in an ambulance and I can’t move anything from my neck down. I never recovered my memory of the accident, but I know they had to pull me out from underneath a TTC city bus.
At the hospital, they sent in a social worker to talk to me. That’s when I knew it was really bad. I’ve been in the hospital many times. I used to race motocross and mountain bikes. But I’d never had a social worker come to my bedside.
My C6 and C7 vertebrae had ballooned and they’d discovered that my C5 was also crushed from a previous injury. I was in so much pain. They had me jacked up on everything. But I was able to wiggle my toe, which was everything to me because I knew it meant I wasn’t totally paralyzed. I figured if I could wiggle my toe, maybe I could make a full recovery.
But first I had to learn to walk again. I was so confident. The first day I tried, these two giant guys came in and got me standing up. As soon as I was vertical, I was like, alright guys, I’ve got this. But the second they let go of me I just crumpled.
I think that was when the reality of what was ahead of me really set in.
A week after I got run over by a bus on my way home from the skate park, my physiotherapist told me that I was probably going to be walking with a cane for the rest of my life. I looked her straight in the face and told her there was no f****** way. I hadn’t discovered the joy of skateboarding until I was in my fifties and I wasn’t ready to give it up.
She nodded and told me that was fine, but I should mentally prepare myself for the reality of the cane anyway. That night, after the nightshift came in, I hauled myself out of bed, grabbed my walker, and just started doing laps of the whole floor with my headphones in. The nurses were just shaking their heads at me like I was crazy. I walked that ward until four in the morning, because I was dead set on showing that physio lady what was what.
Lo and behold, eight days later, I walked out of the hospital without a cane. But that’s when the real recovery began. I was walking, but I couldn’t figure out how to live my life. I’d wanted to get out of that hospital so bad. But as soon as I got home, I was like, send me back to the hospital. I was in so much pain trying to lie in my bed that I ended up sleeping on a yoga mat on the kitchen floor for a month. The nerve pain felt like being on fire. Physical pain, I can usually handle. Tape it and go. But this was something else. And the psychological pain of recovery — the anxiety and depression — I really wasn’t prepared for.
But right from day one, I was flooded with support, from my family, from my work, and from the skating community. Every time I got a text or a visit it would bring a smile to my face, no matter how bad I’d been feeling. I made a decision. Recovery is going to be my new sport. I’m going to be the Olympic champion of recovery.
It’s been a year and a half now and, while I may not be on the podium yet, I’m still chasing that gold. I’m skating again, which no one ever thought I’d do. I can’t do all the tricks I did before, but I’ve learned some new ones. Recovery isn’t just about clawing back the old Brad. It’s about building a new Brad piece by piece.”
“Unbroken” is a short documentary chronicling Brad’s extraordinary journey. Following a life-changing accident, Brad defied all odds through sheer mental fortitude, relentless physical perseverance, and a deep spiritual awakening. With the unwavering support of his family, friends and the skateboarding community, he was able to achieve what seemed impossible, returning to skateboarding.
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