Source: www.mobile.nytimes.com
By BOB HERBERT
Dave Duerson was once a world-class athlete, a perfect physical specimen whose pro football career included Super Bowl championships with the Chicago Bears and New York Giants. Friends and former teammates would tell you that he was also a bright guy - a graduate of Notre Dame with a degree in economics and, at least for awhile, a successful businessman.
When he shot himself to death in his South Florida home last month, the despondent Duerson, who was 50, fired the bullet into his chest rather than into his head. He did not want to further damage his brain. As he explained in text messages and a handwritten note, the former all-pro safety wanted his brain tissue studied, presumably to determine whether he had been suffering from a devastating degenerative disease that is taking a terrible toll on what appears to be an increasing number of pro football players and other athletes.
As The Times has reported, Duerson wrote, "Please, see that my brain is given to the N.F.L.'s brain bank."
Professional football has a big, big problem on its hands, and I'm not talking about the lockout that is jeopardizing the 2011 season. The game is chewing up players like a meat grinder. The evidence is emerging of an extraordinary number of players struggling with lifelong physical debilitation, depression, dementia and many other serious problems linked to their playing days.
Duerson's concern was believed to have been centered on chronic traumatic encephalopathy, an incurable disease associated with depression and dementia in athletes who played violent sports like football and boxing. A number of retired football players, including some who took their own lives, were found to have had the disease, which can only be diagnosed post-mortem.
Pro football, the nation's most popular sport, had been ratcheting up its violence quotient for years. Fans loved it. But a backlash has developed as more and more stories come to light about the awful price retired players are paying for a sport that increasingly resembles Colosseum-like combat. Few players escape unscathed after years of brain-rattling, joint-crippling, bone-breaking, consciousness-altering collisions. Many live out their lives in chronic pain, varying degrees of paralysis, and all manner of cognitive and emotional distress.
The N.F.L. has taken some remedial steps, especially in the area of head injuries. But pro football, always violent, is now violent in the extreme, and there is some question as to whether that violent style of play - and the consequences that flow from it - can really be changed. Paul Tagliabue, a former N.F.L. commissioner, told The New Yorker about the comments of a group of former players who had looked closely at the way defensive play has changed. "They raised the idea," said Tagliabue, "that it was no longer tackle football. It was becoming collision football. The players looked like bionic men."
I am an enormous fan of football, but I get a queasy feeling when I see one of those tremendous hits that leaves the opposing player lying as if lifeless on the turf. Or when I read about players like Andre Waters, formerly of the Philadelphia Eagles and Arizona Cardinals, who shot himself to death in 2006 at the age of 44. A forensic pathologist said Waters's brain tissue looked like that of an 85-year-old man. It turned out that he had been suffering from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, the disease that Duerson may have feared.
This is an enormous tragedy. So many players are suffering in the shadows. They need much more help from the N.F.L., the players' union and the myriad others cashing in on a sport that has become a multibillion-dollar phenomenon. And big changes are needed in the rules, equipment and culture of the sport to cut down on the carnage inflicted on current and future players.
I once was a big fan of boxing. I marveled at the breathless, elaborately detailed stories my parents' generation told about Joe Louis and the unparalleled Sugar Ray Robinson. I followed Muhammad Ali's career from beginning to end. I read biographies of the great boxers of the 20th century.
But I also saw the televised fight in March 1962 in which Emile Griffith beat Benny (Kid) Paret so savagely that Paret died 10 days later. Robinson also killed a man in the ring, Jimmy Doyle, in a fight in 1947. And it's no secret that even the greatest fighters tended to end up in bad shape, demented or enfeebled from the punishment of their trade - Louis, Robinson, Ali, so many others. I haven't been able to watch the sport in years.
It's a very bad sign that chronic traumatic encephalopathy, long associated with boxing, is now linked to football. With the carnage increasingly emerging from the shadows, there is no guarantee that football's magical hold on the public will last. Players are not just suffering, some are dying. The sport needs to change.