My daughter lay in bed, her dark green cast propped on a stack of pillows. “This sucks,” she said. As a rule I discourage the use of the word “sucks,” an artifact of how I was raised. But after reviewing the facts — injured on the last play of the last game of the season, four days before a summer vacation that’s suddenly without swimming or circus camp — I had to admit she was right. “Yes,” I said, “this sucks.” In addition to the pain, she had to process the grief of the loss of summer plans.