You are reading The Mandate / Hot takes on topics that men don’t like to talk about / Written by LA-Based Writer, Cultural Strategist, and Olympic Medalist Jason Rogers
It is, once again, that time of year when the world begins to shut down for the Super Bowl (which is next Sunday). However, if you are a football fan, you will already know that 2023 did not get off to an auspicious start. On January 2nd, Damar Hamlin, a safety for the Buffalo Bills, completed what appeared to be a routine tackle in a playoff game again the Cincinnati Bengals. Hamlin immediately stood up, collapsed on his back, and nearly died on the field with millions of people watching. Thanks to the quick action of the attending medical staff and his subsequent hospital care, Hamlin survived the incident and is recovering but is not set to play any time soon, if ever again.
The incident led to yet another outcry about the dangers of the sport. If I had to point you to any one article on the topic, I would choose the NY Times guest essay by Chris Nowinski, a neuroscientist and former pro athlete. In an op-ed titled “Football Is Deadly, but Not for the Reasons You Think,” Nowinski notes that the likely condition that afflicted Hamlin — commotio cordisp, a disruption of the heart’s rhythm from impact — is actually quite rare. We are unlikely to see an incident like that again in our lifetime, and so this specific traumatic event is an attentional red herring:
As alarming as [Hamlin’s] injury was, the terrifying incident carries a secondary risk: It is focusing attention on a single, dramatic outlier rather than the chronic medical conditions that pose by far the greatest danger to players...chronic heart disease and the long-term effects of traumatic brain injuries have robbed countless players of their health, their happiness and even their lives but do not receive the same medical or cultural attention because they happen away from the cameras.
One of the most publicized dangers players face is C.T.E., a degenerative brain condition with symptoms like memory loss, confusion, impaired judgment, impulse control problems, aggression, depression, anxiety, and suicidality. What is especially terrifying about C.T.E. is that, while traumatic brain disease can play a role in its development, the real culprit is the thousands of “sub-concussive” hits a player might experience during practice or normal play. So, while strict protocols are put in place when a player experiences a concussion, there’s little that medical staff can do to eliminate the risk of these micro-concussions that players are experiencing all the time. (Nowinski has previously estimated that the number of NFL players with C.T.E. could be as high as one in five.)
While I learned about the condition several years ago, I became more concerned about it after writing a feature for Men’s Health magazine about a river rafting trip retreat that I attended with five former players from the NFL. I spoke at length with one attendee, Dave Stalls, a two-time Super Bowl winner whose career spanned the 70s and 80s, that told me about his ongoing battle with dementia. (C.T.E. can only be diagnosed after death, so Stalls does not know if he has it, but dementia is one of its symptoms.) Two of the other guys told me they had avoided watching the movie Concussion, which dramatized the story of the NFL’s attempts to suppress early research about CTE. The retreat’s leader — Joe Hawley, a former center for the Atlanta Falcons and Tampa Bay Buccaneers, told me that one of the reasons that he began to explore spirituality and psychedelics was to help address whatever damage his playing years might have done to his brain.
And while I was able to talk to these players individually about C.T.E., I found it strange that there was minimal group discussion about it — especially because the whole point of the retreat was to get into really deep personal stuff. There are lots of totally understandable reasons that explain why this topic wouldn’t come up, the most basic of which is that there was plenty of other stuff to discuss. The guys were incredibly brave and dove deep into trauma from their childhood, their relationships, and their desire to be emotionally open. So, for me to have tried to reduce the retreat to the single (and only) moment when they could or should address whatever fears they might have about C.T.E. would have been reductive and unfair. And yet, I still it was important for them to talk about it. In my first draft of the article, I wrote about feeling concerned that it had not come up, but I later chastised myself for being so insensitively expectant. Here’s a short excerpt from that early draft:
It finally dawned on me that I had been nudging these men to process on my schedule, to fit their character “arcs” in the convenient time box of the four days that I spent with them on the river. However, it took me over a decade to process my own anxieties. How would I have felt if some writer guy showed up and said, “Hey, you know that earth-shaking terror you feel in your gut? Could you just hurry up and talk about that?”
I bring this up because it’s the only personal bellwether I have on what I see as a critical problem related to the one raised by Nowinski. While events like the one that happened to Hamlin yield numerous media think pieces (like Nowinski’s) and outraged tweets, I’m not confident they move the needle on getting the players to talk amongst themselves.
Again, it’s totally understandable. Active players may be averse to disclosing their fears (i.e., what they perceive to be weaknesses) to teammates against which they compete for game time). Also, in my long experience as an athlete, I learned that one way to increase the likelihood of getting hurt was to worry about getting hurt. In other words, when you grow tentative in your actions, you can make yourself less safe, not more. Retiring from play doesn’t make it any easier to speak out. Some former players receive settlements from the NFL if they can prove that they have suffered debilitating injuries or cognitive decline. And were I in their position I would be concerned that I could jeopardize future money I was set to receive if I made too much noise.
And yet, the situation seems increasingly dire. The league recently saw an 18% increase in concussions during the 2022 regular season. But the NFL collective bargaining agreement is among the weakest in professional sports, and players' disability pay is constantly under threat. I don’t want to suggest that this issue is for the players to solve, but it seems to me that the situation cannot truly change until they get together and say, “enough!” The NFL has benefited from the issue remaining at the edges of conversation amongst players, as nothing more than whispers, murmurs, or unspoken fears. I don’t have a clear conclusion to offer because the whole thing is messy. There’s an elephant in the room, and the NFL has long benefited from allowing it to stand there scratching its ass.
However, I can say what isn’t working. The NFL continues to throw money at this problem and has publicized its efforts to improve helmet technology for years. They also attempt to sanitize any moment that might threaten the status quote. For example, they’re spinning the Hamlin incident by using the Super Bowl as an opportunity to teach CPR. Both of those efforts — i.e. helmets and CPR — are objectively good. But they also act as a smoke screen and lend themselves to clean PR-friendly narratives like “The NFL invests millions in head safety” or “Hamlin event inspires people to learn life-saving techniques.” They obscure the real truth and give onlookers a convenient excuse to put off applying any real scrutiny. We need to stop believing that someday football is going to be totally safe.
Couldn't agree more with the sentiment here. I'd also add we need this same type of locker room talk in the NCAA. As a former player myself, this is something that never gets discussed amongst old teammates, despite the NCAA's concussion settlement monitoring. Even if you don't have CTE, it's impossible not to leave your keys in the door one day and wonder if it's the beginning of a decline or if you were just plain old absent minded.
Apologies if this is just a mind dump of thoughts.
I agree with that it’s a messy situation in general. I feel this is perpetuated by the organizations, the encouragement of fans to hit harder or be more aggressive, the sponsorship $ for teams, and the drive to ultimately be a profitable business. These can end up keeping an unhealthy constant spiral of toxic masculinity and brutality, and doesn't allow space for much else. This can also have an impact on players and team faculty bottling up emotions afraid of how a player is being perceived. They are human, like all of us, just gifted in athleticism.
Where is the bonding and sport psychology as group work? What about Somatic Therapy as a team? If you knew your strength & weakness, as much as your teammates, wouldn’t that bond the team to be tighter, the players and teams to look out for each through sportsmanship, and ultimately put pressure on the NFL organization to shed light on the real truth?
Just a thought.
Thanks.