Speed of Light

The 2000 U.S. Championships were held, as always, at the Downtown YMCA in Houston. Doug won his first two matches to reach the round of 16. His next opponent was ranked number 11 in the country. They split the first two games, then Doug won a close tiebreaker to advance to the quarterfinals for the second year in a row. His opponent was Adam Karp, a two-time U.S. champion, the eighth-ranked player in the nation -- and the man who had dispatched Doug the year before.

The winner of this match would reach the semifinals and be guaranteed a spot on the U.S. national team, which meant a few thousand dollars in grant money, full health insurance, and a trip to the world championships in Mexico. The loser got nothing. For the past year, since the loss in 1999, Doug's entire focus had been on beating Karp. He did, edging him 11-8 in the tiebreaker.

In the semifinals, against the tenth-ranked player, Dan Fowler, Doug got pounded in the first game. He rebounded to win the second. Another tiebreaker. He found himself down 10-7 with Fowler serving for the match.

"I was on such a plane," Doug remembers. "Kind of like you see with Tiger Woods. I was on such a high mental level that I detached myself from the pressure --it's not real, it's only in your head. It all ties into fear and doubt, and I never thought I would lose."

Fowler served a bullet. Doug launched into a full dive and killed the shot --smacked the ball into that half-inch of space at the bottom of the wall so it rolled off, unreturnable. Doug then served out the match and advanced to the finals.

After quarterfinal and semifinal matches lasting 2-1/2 hours each, fatigue took over and Doug lost in the finals. Not that it fazed him. He was now a starter on the U.S. national team. He had progressed in his understanding and mastery of his internal self. "I was almost disappointed when I lost," he says. "but it was only skin deep."

Doug had always traveled to see concerts all over the country, treating them as much as a mental and physical workout as recreation. He usually arrived at the show wearing heavy sweats, hooded sweaters and the like. Often security would make Doug -- who's been substance-free for years now -- practically disrobe, figuring anybody wearing sweats to a concert in the Texas summer heat had to be on something. When the performance started Doug would dance like a madman, perspiring profusely, riding the music to a place deep inside.

When the Dave Matthews band was scheduled to perform at South Park Meadows in Austin, Doug prepared for the concert like it was a tournament, readying his mind to take full advantage of the band's extended instrumental jam sessions. Once the music began, he moved further and further into his consciousness. He became unaware of the fact that he was at a show with thousands of other people. There was only the essence of himself.

At the end of the show he was drenched in sweat and tears.

"I had a one-on-one experience with God," Doug says without a trace of unease. "That was the day after which everything will never be the same. I was so within the music, thinking of God. It's not like a voice comes down like thunder. I just moved to this place."

It just so happened that Doug's old racquetball teacher Bo Champagne, who he had kept in touch with over the years, was at the show, too. "He was glowing, extremely happy, with a big grin on his face," says Champagne, who ran into Doug afterward. "You could tell he had a spiritual revelation, because he was even happier than he is normally."

Doug had come to the concert with a friend named Dave, but driving home, it was clear that for Dave it was just music. Doug called up his brother, his parents, tried to explain that he would never experience sadness again. They, too, didn't really understand.

Finally he called Bill Stanley. "Everyone seeks their own salvation," Stanley said.

Today Doug Eagle rides above the worries and stresses of everyday life on a tapestry of warmth and contentment. Physically, he feels perfect every single day. He weighs 175 pounds with 8 percent body fat. Single, Doug uses his little spare time to play basketball and travel to places like Egypt where he rang in the new millennium meditating at the top of the Great Pyramids.

Mentally, his entire life is devoted to developing a greater understanding of God, and to helping others to do the same. "I don't want to come off all "God and love and life,'" he says, "but that's just the way it is."

Days are spent at his clinic, Eagle Rehab Center, helping people overcome the kind of injuries that changed Doug's life. He often travels to Dallas to spend time with Bill Stanley and work on himself. And of course he plays racquetball, plays it as well as anyone on the planet. He finished fourth at the 2000 world championships in Mexico. He's the resident pro at the Met business and sports club downtown. He recently returned from a month-long, all-expenses-paid trip to Japan where he taught racquetball clinics to hundreds of people through an interpreter. Racquetball, in fact, is his primary vehicle for spreading his message.