Skirts and Skins

The NFL, since its creation, has been a modern day incarnation of ancient Roman gladiators and the legendary Coliseum. In as protective a society as ours, it still amazes me that the NFL is even allowed. Life threatening hits are met with thunderous applause. Men performing at superhuman levels tear each other apart for a league that endorses these collisions for our own amusement. In many ways, the danger is what excites us as fans who want to see on a field what we cannot see in our everyday lives. Perhaps danger is the wrong word, but the action that we all love is undeniably accompanied by considerable danger every step of the way. For this reason, danger is a necessary evil present in the fantasy world of professional football, where each great play would be a misdemeanor in real life.

However, America’s new favorite pastime is on its way to being no more than a game of past times. Just as Emperor Constantine put a slow and steady end to the gladiator games, Emperor Goodell seeks to enforce his own end of an era. Since the advent of his regime, Commissioner Roger Goodell has turned rushing the passer into roughing the passer and necessary toughness into unnecessary roughness. He has caused the extinction of celebrations and big hits, two of the more fan friendly elements of the game. In a league that fines Frank Gore $10,500 for wearing socks too low, the last thing we need is another reminder that, for the NFL, fun is a forgotten concept.

The latest and most hilarious rule will apparently penalize ball carriers for leading with their heads into defenders. This not only maintains, but elevates the NFL’s ongoing crusade against players leading with their heads. Defenders have already been penalized for doing this, so the league is now theoretically free of all forms of leading with one’s helmet. The NFL expects that the long overdue decision to get rid of the “tuck rule” will make up for their latest atrocity, but this is not the case. Negating the tuck rule was a moral obligation, not a favor to the fans.  The thought process behind this new rule is noble enough, as is the case with many other rules. After all, removing head injuries from the game would be fantastic. However, the practical application of it is nothing short of ridiculous.

At this point, I would like to make an unusual request for anyone reading this. I would like you to walk into the nearest wall, preferably while alone so no one thinks you require medical attention. For the sake of practicality, you can just imagine doing so. Now, imagine walking into that wall in such a way that your head is not the first part of you to make contact. For the full NFL experience, picture the same scenario and rules, only this time you are running at full speed. As if the thought of you running into a wall was not funny enough, doing so with that upright, almost leaning back form has to be pretty amusing. That is how NFL running backs are now expected to run into defenders. That is also how NFL defenders are expected to tackle. I cannot do anything but laugh every time I envision a collision between two people running in the way I have just described. Natural momentum causes people to lead with their heads while running, but the NFL seems determined to change that.

Contrary to how it may seem, the NFL does not actually create these rules for the sole purpose of ruining the game. Lawsuits and the negative press created by all we find out about retired players and head trauma have essentially backed the league into a corner and forced their hand on certain issues. The Junior Seau suicide, which was most likely caused by degenerative brain disease as a result of cumulative concussions suffered while playing in the NFL, is a perfect example of this. There is no debating the fact that the NFL has a responsibility to protect its players and, therefore, its own reputation. While changing the nature of the game entirely is the easy way to improve player safety, is cannot be the right way. I compare the league’s angle to the old joke where a patient tells a doctor “my leg hurts when I do this” and the doctor says “well then don’t do that.” Avoidance is not a real solution, and taking hitting out of football is not a win for player safety.

Alternatives for a better plan will not be easy to come across. If this was the case, those solutions would be in place already. However, one small step that would be a giant leap for the NFL would be to take their strict stance on sock length and apply it to how players wear their helmets. One of the few similarities between high school football and the NFL is that a player in either league will wear a helmet, so I can actually speak from experience here. NFL helmets should almost never come off during a play. For lack of a better explanation, they are just too tight to be removed unless you make the conscious effort to take one off. Even then, you may feel like your ears are being ripped off. NFL players must not be doing something correctly because I always see at least three helmets rolling around on the field per game. This does not refer to a battle between linemen in which a stray bear paw rips a helmet off someone’s head. This is much more understandable. I am referring to when a star wide receiver, who is clearly bigger than the team, waltzes up to the line of scrimmage with his chinstrap flapping in the breeze without a care in the world. His helmet is rattling around on his head and his brain is rattling around inside it.

The other, more tangible change would be more advanced helmets that reduce the risk of concussions. While equipment that makes you immune to head injuries may very well be impossible, time and technological advances will inevitably bring improvements in player safety. The NFL needs to run tests to rate the safety of different helmets, which they have already done to a certain extent, and mandate the use of the safest possible equipment. Another revision to the league’s rules should be a clear distinction between a legal and illegal way to lead with one’s head. As we proved earlier, it is impossible to sprint without leaning forward, so there has to be a more distinguishable line between how players can and cannot do so. The key to this is making sure that players keep their heads up and bury their facemasks into opponents, as opposed to ramming the top of their heads into them. This is the most reasonable compromise between an effort to keep players safe and a certain level of violence that football simply requires.

As a Pittsburgh Steelers fan, I have taken an exceptional level of interest in the NFL’s fight against hitting. My team’s entire franchise is built on hitting harder and more often than your team. This philosophy took a major hit, no pun intended, when flags and fines teamed up to rob linebacker James Harrison of well over $100,000. I refer to these hits as donations because, from what I understand, money taken from player fines go to nonprofit organizations ranging from retired players to cancer foundations. The reason I include my fanhood here is a particular and foreboding incident from a wildcard playoff matchup between my Steelers and the Denver Broncos. The disappointing result of the actual game, which had something to do with bad tackling and a Christian quarterback, allowed me to focus more on the peripheral aspects of the game. For example, the hit from the charitable James Harrison that injured wide receiver Eric Decker caught my attention. Another thing I can say from experience is that I would gladly take a truck to the upper body before an awkward hit to the knees. Take my eyes, just not the knees. Hits of this kind can make a gory highlight reel of devastating injuries. Luckily, Decker was not seriously hurt, but he did miss the remainder of that game. Harrison specifically said that his decision to dive low, a move that could be perceived as a dirty play, was solely motivated by the desire to avoid a personal foul, which would have cost his team dearly. It is a small story in the grand scheme of things, but this incident and others like it could foreshadow a dark age for NFL knees.

Does anyone remember Jacked Up on Monday Night Football? The league likes to pretend as if this never happened, but we used to celebrate vicious hits instead of condemning them. The segment took criticism for its barbaric nature as if half the nation doesn’t follow a sport that features two sets of eleven men trying to kill each other. As much as I love its replacement, C’mon Man, which is filled with delightful NFL bloopers and mishaps, things like Jacked Up define the game of football. Granted, some changes throughout history were needed. No one wants to see defensive linemen ripping quarterbacks down by the facemasks and then poking them in the eye as their friends rip out leg hairs. Maybe future generations will view a safety lighting up a receiver across a middle as an equally barbaric scenario. This thought saddens me, but it is very possible. Football is following a deeply troubling trend, and I fear the day when my grandson and I talk football and I tell him “You know, when I was your age, they used to tackle each other.”

The NFL rule changes to reduce hitting have been a slow and steady poison for a sport that is predicated on at least some degree of violence. If you look ten, twenty, or fifty years into the future, you can only imagine where these limitations will take the game. We may be looking at a league in which every game looks like the Pro Bowl. At some point, anyone defending NFL hitting has to utter the words “occupational hazard.” It sounds unpleasant, but you simply cannot have football as we know it without this harsh reality. You can fight it with improved equipment and physical protection. You can teach players better form to protect themselves. However, as bad as it sounds, you cannot change the entire game just because someone may get hurt. Under Goodell’s oppression, there may come a day when NFL players buckle up their flags, crowds go wild for an assertive two hand touch, and pick-up games divide themselves into skirts and skins.