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.
