Overcoming Trauma: A Subway Survivor's Path to Recovery through Tennis

Joseph Lynskey's New Year's Eve plans took a shocking turn on December 31. Ready and excited about a "Wicked"-themed party, he'd just finished brunch with friends in Chelsea and was waiting at a subway station, casually scrolling through his phone. But in an instant, a violent act changed his life forever.

A terrifying moment on a subway platform

In a blink, Lynskey was pushed onto subway tracks. "I remember seeing those train headlights and even glimpsing at what I thought was a train conductor's silhouette," he shared. Miraculously, he fell just off-center, dodged certain death by a fraction. "The train missed me by mere milliseconds," he said, grappling with knowing someone had tried taking his life.

Quick thinking in a crisis

At 45, Lynskey suddenly found himself in grave danger. "Panicking wasn't an option—I knew I could get electrocted by that third rail," he recalled, aware that moving recklessly might lead him straight onto that deadly power source. Alone on those tracks, he called out desperately. Just as hope started fading, a woman's voice finally broke through, asking if he could move.

Soon, firefighters arrived, faced with a tough choice: wait until they cut power or risk a quick rescue. They chose speed, pulling Lynskey away from danger. Though he never got a glimpse at his attacker, 23-year-old Kamal Hawkins was later charged and pled not guilty.

The road back from physical injuries

Lynskey spent five grueling days at Bellevue Hospital's ICU, dealing with a cracked skull, a ruptured spleen, and broken ribs. "I've never known pain like that," he admitted. Yet, one thought kept him going: returning on time, healthy enough, and ready, hitting that tennis court camp in upstate New York by Easter weekend. "Tennis just fills my life with joy and energy here in New York," he said.

Tennis: More than a game

For Lynskey, tennis means more than just scoring points—it's a lifeline and a community, especially in New York's LGBTQ tennis league. "The support from my tennis family and organizations like USTA has been overwhelming," he acknowledged. Lynskey, a DJ and music branding expert, has called NYC home since moving from Miami 25 years ago.

Having grown up in a large family with 11 siblings, sports were big in his life, but Lynskey never quite fit in with typical team sports. As a closeted gay kid in 1980s Miami, tennis offered a personal escape—a place where he could truly be himself.

Healing emotionally, one day at a time

Lynskey's journey isn't just about mending bones; he faces emotional scars too. Despite broken ribs, he bravely returned again and again, finding solace and strength. "Tennis challenges me one-on-one, both physically and mentally," he said, explaining its power in his healing journey.

Now about 80% physically recovered, Lynskey continues trauma therapy, battling anxiety and flashbacks. He's determined, little by little, and he's returning confidently, even contemplating using those subway stations again. "The subway's a lifeline in NYC," he stated. "There are improvements needed, but I'm committed, and I'm getting back on that train."

Looking back, Lynskey sees his survival as nothing short, nothing less, than miraculous—thanks in large part, he says, recognizing his support circle—those first responders, family, friends, therapists, and empathetic strangers. "January taught me immense kindness exists," he reflected, pointing out a GoFundMe campaign that generously covered $190,000 in medical bills.

Writing has become his trusted outlet. "Journaling my thoughts and experiences helps me digest everything," he noted. His goal? To inspire others through his story, spreading resilience and hope: "No matter what, you can always get back on track."