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He had lost feeling from his chest down. Paralyzed. All, except the excruciating pain, felt numb.
He had read stories about near-death experiences. He heard about the bright white lights, others having their entire lives flash through their minds from start to finish. All true, he said.
"Your mind is going to do some thinking," Gant said. "The first thing was, I wonder how my mom is going to take this."
Gant laid motionless, remaining as calm as he could. Surrounding his body was dirt from walls that had collapsed as he was in a trench installing sewage lines for a neighborhood in his hometown of Okeechobee, Fla.
The first wall's collapse provided a jarring hit powerful enough to break his back, leaving him paralyzed at the T-4 vertebrae upon impact. Within a few quick minutes, the falling earth from both walls had piled on top of him, too thick for him to move his body even if he had the ability.
Ninety minutes he was trapped there, with hardly enough room to draw a breath.
"It was spooky," he said. "But it didn't seem like it was my time to go."
Sept. 23, 1981, Gant says, was his "last walking day."
A CAREER ENDS
Later this week, Gant, 55, will celebrate -- yes, celebrate -- the 29th anniversary of his accident by fishing, gardening or playing tennis. His love for the game brought him to Hilton Head Island for the 24th consecutive year, where he competed in this weekend's Fall Southern PTR $14,000 Wheelchair Championships.
Gant recalls his accident often in his thick southern drawl, always doing so with a smile as he refers to it as a blessing. For nearly three decades, he has refrained from asking why. He doesn't intend to ask the question anytime soon.
"I don't need to know," Gant said. "I was getting ready to screw up, the way I look at it. And the good Lord didn't want me to end up in jail or get myself killed, so that happened."
Gant was on the verge of possibly playing basketball in the NBA, though the modest manner in which he tells the story wouldn't suggest it. His career as a 6-foot-7 post player blossomed in a semi-professional league in Virginia, as did his Magic-like hook across the lane.
It earned him interest from the NBA. A handful of scouts one day showed up at his home. He was as close as he would come to reaching basketball's top level when he became homesick and took a job in Okeechobee less than a year before his accident.
Gant says the accident saved his life in some ways. It prevented him from being lost in the fame and fortune that he dreamed would one day become a part of his everyday life.
"Young, foolish, that kind of money -- you're bound to do something stupid," Gant said.
There is no evidence to indicate that theory would apply to Gant. He is a man of faith, one who believes things happen for a reason.
He has appeared in movies, while rejecting others because of improper language. His next beer, he says, will be his first.
A NEW LIFE BEGINS
Co-workers severed the middle and index fingers on Gant's left hand as they dug him out with a backhoe. Doctors reattached them within a couple weeks, which Gant says makes picking up coins more eventful.
It doesn't prevent him from doing everyday chores. Neither does his wheelchair.
Gant lives alone in Riviera Beach, Fla., in a home remodeled to fit his needs.
"I got a state of the art house," he says before starting to laugh. "You'd probably be a little jealous."
His nearest family is an hour-and-a-half drive. He spends much of his time fishing at a nearby lake or working on his garden and lawn.
Gant does more manual labor than many of his peers and considers it a hobby. Half his neighborhood uses a lawn sprinkler system he installed.
But his true passion has become tennis. Gant never recalled playing tennis before his accident, other than the requirement to pass high school P.E. class.
His body was built for basketball, and so was his mind-set. A nine-month stay in an Orlando spinal care unit followed his accident, and soon thereafter he was back on the basketball court, shooting hoops in his new chair.
Coaching was his true passion. He did it for 12 years at an area recreation center. He brags about his high school players avoiding trouble and earning top grades before later mentioning they also won the league championship.
It wasn't until a few years later that he learned to play wheelchair tennis. In the 1980s, he didn't have the specialized wheelchairs that players use today, where the tilt of the wheels allow for sharper turns and quicker movement.
"I think the draw was that everything was the same, except you get two bounces (instead of one)," he said. "You're just playing regular ol' tennis."
Gant's muscular upper body was an advantage on the tennis court. But he had to get used to the fact that his height suddenly was not.
"I'm only 5-2 now," he responds with a quick wit. "The accident knocked me down a foot and a half."
Gant plays in about 10 tennis tournaments each year, a number that is dwindling as he struggles to find sponsorship. He still uses workers' compensation to pay his bills.
Hilton Head Island will be his last tournament stop in 2010, but he won't be putting down his racket when he returns to Riviera Beach. Aside from playing, Gant helps coach a women's UTSA League squad and lends a hand to a local high school girls team.
A brother lives in Okeechobee, about an hour and a half from Riviera Beach. Gant has plans to visit.
When he does, he makes it a point to stop at the site that forever changed his life. He often even smiles.
"That was my last walking day," he says as he passes by. "I'm lucky to still be here, to make it 29 years."
Gant fittingly nods his head.
"I'm a lucky man."
