Miracle man; Cougars' Powell claws back from death's door.

• Position: SPORTS

Byline: Jennifer Toland

WORCESTER - Reed Powell had zipped up and down the stairs leading to the second level of Kneller Athletic Center a hundred times during his four undergraduate years at Clark University. But on that mid-October day in 2011, as he stood at the base of the incline, the 12 steps were daunting.

Gaunt, gasping for air and grasping a cane, Powell had stopped twice already and took a sip of water in the building's lobby before beginning his climb to visit men's basketball coach Paul Phillips.

By the time Powell got to the top, he was winded and too tired to walk down the hall to Phillips' office. So, Phillips came out and sat with Powell on the top step.

Powell didn't tell Phillips that day - and, based on Powell's appearance, Phillips probably wouldn't have believed him anyway - but way, way in the back of his mind, Powell knew he would play basketball for the Cougars again.

He was physically weak, yes, but Powell's mind, heart and soul were as strong as ever.

Powell, the older of two sons of Jerry Powell and Lynnel Reed-Powell, grew up on Birch Street, about five houses away from Clark's Dolan Field House, learned to play basketball in the St. Peter's Church youth league, and attended University Park Campus School.

In 2010, Powell earned his bachelor's degree in business management from Clark, the alma mater of his mom and his grandmother, Catherine Reed, and where he played three seasons of basketball and helped the Cougars to the NCAA tournament as a senior. His entire sophomore season was wiped out by a torn anterior cruciate ligament in his knee.

After graduation, Powell would work for a year, then return to Clark in September 2011 to begin pursuit of his master's degree and use his final year of basketball eligibility.

Powell and his cousin were out for a sunny Saturday afternoon motorcycle ride in mid-June 2011. Powell's sport bike was a new purchase, but he was an experienced rider and had his motorcycle license for some time.

He wasn't speeding down Route 20 or doing anything crazy when he went into a turn and the whole bike and back tire came out from under him. He slid across the pavement toward a telephone pole.

"I remember thinking, `Oh, my goodness. This is going to hurt,'" Powell said. "I tried to brace myself."

With his concerned cousin standing over him, Powell lay on the side of the road, drifting in and out of consciousness and in agonizing pain. He had shattered every rib on the right side of his body...