A MIRACLE IN PROGRESS.

Byline: Jon Wilner Daily News Staff Writer

The morsel of Scripture that hangs on Anselmo Zamano's dormitory wall is no longer visible. He used to recite it each day, close his eyes and feel its inspiration surge through his veins.

That was back in the dark time, the days of surgeries, morphine and wheelchairs, when doctors said he would never walk again. Back when there was a chance he would lose his leg.

Now a bookcase blocks the Scripture from view. Zamano can't remember the specific chapter or verse, and he has forgotten the lines. It's just as well. He doesn't need it anymore, hasn't for months. His spirits are stronger, and his shredded knee gains strength by the month.

He is walking again, even jogging and lifting weights. But Zamano's recovery from the worst athletic injury at UCLA in 30 years is far from complete. His return to the football team - he was a promising freshman linebacker when the injury occurred last season against Michigan - remains a dream.

``Since the injury, I've grown much closer to God,'' said Zamano, a 19-year-old from Fontana. ``He has made me believe miracles do happen. It would be a big-time miracle if I play again.''

Those close to Zamano believe the miracle has already taken place.

Zamano has not seen the injury on videotape, but his memory is surprisingly vivid considering the trauma that followed. Blocking on a first-quarter kickoff return, he planted his right foot on the 23-yard line. A split-second later, Michigan's Terrence Quinn was blocked into his right leg. While Zamano's foot remained entrenched in Michigan Stadium's natural grass, his knee was forced directly backward, and he crumbled to the ground.

``His leg looked like a big banana,'' UCLA guard Andy Meyers said.

Dr. Gerald Finerman, the UCLA team physician, raced to Zamano and saw his right knee had been dislocated: his thigh and lower leg were no longer joined. Finerman popped the knee back in place on the spot, but it immediately separated.

``Get me out of here!'' Zamano screamed. ``Please get me out of here!'' Finerman felt for a pulse. None.

``That's when I knew we had a big problem,'' Finerman said. ``We needed to get him to a hospital immediately and evaluate the artery behind his knee.

``There was a real risk of losing the leg. It wasn't only dislocated. He had injured the major artery behind the knee, and he had injured the nerve that controls your ability to lift your foot.''

Within minutes, Zamano was at the University of Michigan Hospital, home of one of the best trauma centers in the country. Tests showed no blood flowing below the knee. Zamano's leg was indeed in danger. Vascular surgeons were called, and the medical staff, with Finerman present, prepped Zamano for surgery.

There was one hangup: His knee wouldn't stabilize. Each time doctors forced the femur and tibia into place, they'd dislocate. Zamano had no ligaments, no cartilage, no soft tissue to hold his leg together. The only thing keeping the lower leg from falling off altogether, was skin.

There was one option: the external fixator. Doctors drove four -1/4-inch pins into the femur and tibia, then attached the pins to a metal contraption that immobilized his leg. It would remain part of Zamano for a month.

Stability attained, Zamano underwent five hours of surgery. A vein from his left leg was transplanted into the right, bypassing the blocked artery and restoring circulation in the lower leg. His pulse returned. The chances of amputation, while not eliminated, had been greatly diminished.''

Finerman left the next morning and was replaced by Zamano's older brother, Joe, who flew to Ann Arbor after a tearful phone call from Bruins coach Bob Toledo. Zamano, heavily sedated, remained in the hospital for five days before returning to Los Angeles. Several Wolverines visited, including legendary coach Bo Schembechler.

Zamano remembers very little of that time, with two exceptions: the doctors saying he'd never walk again and the ``patient control analgesia'' - a morphine-injection button positioned a few inches from his left hand. It became his best friend.

``What I remember is that when the nurses leaned over Anselmo, the tags around their necks would hit the pins in his leg, and he'd scream like an animal,'' Joe said. ``His pain was unbearable.''

As the severity became apparent, so did the cruel irony of the external fixator. The very contraption that saved Zamano's leg, by stabilizing the knee for surgery, is now the greatest obstacle to his recovery.

The first weeks after major surgery are crucial in regaining muscle function and range of motion - the key elements to walking and running normally. But the fixator denied Zamano's leg a month of vital movement. His leg, his life, may never be the same.

``Normally, if there is some stability, the fixator isn't needed,'' Finerman said. ``His injury was so severe that we had to use the fixator, and that has limited his range of motion. I never say never, but his chances of playing again are kind of remote because of it.''

Zamano spent three weeks in the UCLA Medical Center and several more in a wheelchair. He withdrew from school for the fall quarter and moved in with Joe, in Fontana. He had one surgery to remove the fixator, another to check the condition of the artery, another to reconstruct his shredded anterior and posterior cruciate ligaments, a fifth for cosmetic purposes, so he can wear shorts again. Nerve function returned, and over time, he was able to move his foot.

His first, delicate step came in November in the UCLA training facility. He called Joe and his mother, Ana, immediately. ``Hey, I'm walking! I'm walking!''

He returned to school for the winter quarter, using crutches and a heavy brace to ensure stability. He rode the disability bus to class.

Some weeks, he couldn't sleep. He'd lie in bed recreating the collision, imagining the morphine button by his side and that darn external fixator. He wondered, ``Why me? I've never hurt anyone.''

Other weeks, he'd sleep deeply. He'd dream that God came to him and touched his leg . . . and it was healed. He'd be on the field, in a Bruin uniform, making the crucial tackle, grabbing the decisive interception, feeling the grass on his arms and hearing the cheers and smelling the sweat trickling off his nose.

Then he'd wake up and the daily struggles began - getting dressed, walking to the disability bus, hobbling to his seat in class.

``I think that was the toughest time,'' said Meyers, Zamano's closest friend on the team. ``During the surgeries there was so much happening, but when he got back to class he was on crutches, living in the dorms, and his injury wasn't fresh in people's minds. It was all kind of routine for him. He blamed himself. He thought he had let people down. You could see a lot of hurt on his face.''

Last week a UCLA trainer measured Zamano's range of motion at 119 degrees. Hearing this, he bolted out of the training room and gave Meyers an enormous hug. ``One-nineteen,'' he yelled. ``One-nineteen!'' It had taken three months of grueling rehabilitation to get there from 109 degrees - the difference of two inches.''

He remains on scholarship - the NCAA permits special-circumstance scholarships that don't count against the team limit - and rehabs every morning between class.

In the afternoons, he works in the athletic department, assisting Randy Taylor, who coordinates football operations. Zamano is always smiling, always cheerful - as if he's the healthiest person in the building. ``Anselmo does more to lift other people up than we do to lift him,'' Taylor said.

For Zamano, a born-again Christian, this is simply the latest struggle. His parents split when he was young. One sibling has epilepsy, another was born disabled and receives government aide. His mother does not speak English and lives off welfare. A career-ending injury his family did not need.

Or did it?

Perhaps the miracle isn't his recovery, it's his injury.

``I won't say it's the best thing that ever happened to Anselmo, but it has had a tremendous positive impact on all our lives,'' Joe said. ``It changed the family for the better.

``Before Anselmo got hurt, he did not have a good relationship with our mother. She used to tell me that he'd never tell her about his life and school. Now they are good friends.

``For me, I stopped drinking when he got hurt. It made me realize I was taking everything for granted. I wasn't an alcoholic, but I liked to drink. Not anymore. Since the injury I don't drink and I'm going to church.

``I believe Anselmo is a blessing from the sky, a gift from God. He is the glue to this family. We've become much closer because of him. God might have closed one door with the injury, but he has opened so many more.''

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Photo: Anselmo Zamano was forced to UCLA's sidelines after suffering a terrible knee injury last season.

Phil McCarten / Daily News