Rant: What is a problem, and what is not

One of the greater but understated challenges in tackling attitudes about the ongoing trouble with football and its brain-trauma tendencies is in tackling attitudes about sports more broadly, attitudes that are even less consciously vocalized but nonetheless powerful and almost impossible to overcome. One of those is the attitude that, somehow, sports is a necessity.

If you pressed a sports fan on the subject they would likely either: (1) deny that such a statement is true, but continue to live their lives as if sports is in fact a necessity, or: (2) say that, yes, sports is a necessity, but be unable to answer "why" with anything beyond vacuous platitudes or myths.

Case in point: this article, a seemingly innocuous piece by one Julianna W. Miner on why kids tend to drop out of youth sports by around age 13.

Now it would be possible to report such a study, commissioned by the National Alliance for Youth Sports, in a pretty blase manner, putting the statistics out there and not much else. But that's not what his afoot here; it's not a straight-up news report, but closer to an opinion piece, written by a mother of youth, one of whom is about to hit that age, fretting about All The Things The Child Will Miss By Not Playing Sports.

Now if you've read this blog much you know something is up when I go all Hunter S. Thompson on you with the capitalization. Let's pull out the sticky lines and expose them to the light:

“It’s not fun anymore” isn’t the problem; it’s a consequence of a number of cultural, economic and systemic issues that result in our kids turning away from organized sports at a time when they could benefit from them the most. Playing sports offers everything from physical activity, experiencing success and bouncing back from failure to taking calculated risks and dealing with the consequences to working as a team and getting away from the ubiquitous presence of screens. Our middle-schoolers need sports now more than ever.

The "it's not fun anymore" quote, first of all, shouldn't be dismissed quite so easily; she doesn't seem to think her children are particularly intelligent, because the natural thing to do would be to ask "well, why isn't it fun anymore?" and get some more specifics out of it. But apparently the author is just bursting with the systemic problems she's just gushing to get out and can't be bothered with details.

The real slippery logic comes thereafter, with the recited list of positive attributes of playing sports. There are two particular kinds of slippery logic at play here; one I'll call the "lone savior" fallacy, and the other the "illusion of flawlessness."

Note the sleight of hand at play above: first, the claim is that kids are turning away from organized sports "at a time when they could benefit from them the most." Then the next sentence begins "Playing sports..." and goes on to recite the usual list of mandatory benefits of sports, as if somehow one absolutely cannot learn how to bounce back from failure if one never plays football or something (oh, and there is the ubiquitous complaint about excessive time in front of computers or phones for good measure).

But where did the word "organized" go?

Have we actually made it impossible for kids to engage in physical activity outside of organized sports? The only way to do so is to sign up for a league?

(Of all the bizarre things, I'm reminded of an episode of The Flintstones. Fred and the other parents are starting to put too much pressure on the kids in the kiddie baseball league. Barney, the only adult with sense in this case, eventually spirits the kids away to an undisclosed location where they can play for fun. I wanna be Barney Rubble.)

The conflation of "play" or "playing games" with "organized sports" is a deeply problematic mindset that is so deeply entrenched in culture as to be inseparable from any discussion about kids and physical activity. There are a boatload of problems with such a conflation, but to pick on just one for now: the moment that "organized" sports becomes the dominant or even exclusive paradigm you end up with an industry of sorts initially intended (I'll be generous here) to support kids and their physical activity, but eventually ending up demanding kids to be fed into the system in order for it to survive..and you get opinion pieces in the Washington Post trying to shame kids into continuing to play (or their parents into forcing them to play). Go look at that NAYS website linked above. It's just desperate to convince you that organized sports is the only way your child will ever be saved (from what I have no idea, but as a pastor/public theologian my BS antennae are naturally sensitive to such things).

Now let's check out the flip side of this assumption; organized sports, it is very much assumed here, is the only hope for producing children who learn such things as persistence in the face of failure, resilience, dealing with consequences, working in concert with others, and even cutting down screen time.

[WARNING: I am about to swear, loudly.]

BULLSHIT.

You want your child to learn resilience, persistence, bouncing back from failure, and all that stuff? Start them in music when young. Start them on one of those ubiquitous recorders when they hit fourth or fifth grade.

Or get them in drama club. Or dance (now there's some major physical activity for ya).

You can't stop and stew over your failure, because there's no break. You got to get your next line spoken. The music or the dance don't stop for you to have a pity party.

And even better, you can do those things literally the rest of your life. You can't play football forever, but there are church choirs out there dying for singers, and community theatre is everywhere.

So yes, I absolutely question the necessity of organized sports for learning all those virtues.

One blog post isn't enough to unpack that question, but the other bit of slippery logic must be addressed. Not surprisingly, the author isn't all that interested in getting into the possible drawbacks or harms attached to organized sports for you.

I, as it happens, have no such reluctance.

Perhaps most obvious these days in injury risks we never imagined before. Even without getting into the usual subject of the blog, and the degree to which even people who don't play football beyond youth-sports level or a little high school can end up with some degree of CTE discernible in their brains upon death, you have to be a blithering idiot not to be very circumspect about starting your child on such a sport. (Fortunately there are other options; in fact, we recently had an Olympics full of games that don't involve brain-rattling.) But there are other horror stories -- teenage pitchers getting Tommy John surgery, ghastly injuries from basketball or hockey or gymnastics (???), all can be found if you look hard enough.

But I want to pick on something else. I question the notion that all the impacts of playing organized sports are positive.

Do you learn independent thought playing youth football? Or do you learn "do what coach says or you're benched"?

Do you learn creativity?

Do you learn social discernment?

Do you ever actually learn that discretion really is the better part of valor? In other words, when quitting really is the right thing to do?

Or do you learn mindless obedience?

Or do you learn that physical prowess trumps all?

Or do you learn that your success is dependent on someone else's failure?

Let us not buy the assumption that all of the lessons of organized sports are good ones. To borrow words from Frederick Buechner,

Maybe it's not competition but cooperation and comradeship that build the only character worth building. If it's by playing games together that we learn to win battles, maybe it's by playing, say, music together that we learn to avoid them.

The original column that precipitated this rant ends with the sentence: "And, perhaps more importantly, until we dismantle the parenting culture that emphasizes achievement and success over happy, healthy kids, we don't stand a chance of solving this problem." Ms. Miner, you haven't earned the status to critique parenting cultures, because you have failed to convince us that kids leaving organized sports is an actual problem. Come back when you're not blowing smoke and throwing shade.

You know, this might just teach your kids teamwork, resilience, etc. too.

Shining a light

Media attention to the ongoing brain-trauma struggle in football has come from various sources. In terms of media presentations, the movie Concussion and the PBS Frontline documentary League of Denial (based on the book of the same name) are probably the most high-profile projects, although others have been produced on the subject. A number of books and articles have also been produced, although these are often more general treatments of the violence and physical toll of football.

A couple of new productions are making their way into the public consciousness this month. A documentary with the heart-tugging title Requiem for a Running Back appeared at the Carter Center in Atlanta a couple of weeks ago (see no. 5); in it the director Rebecca Carpenter chronicles the decline of her father Lew, a former back for the Detroit Lions, Green Bay Packers, and Cleveland Browns and also a coach in the NFL, in his later years. Unbeknownst to Carpenter, in those years her father was likely suffering the effects of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), which was found in his brain after his death. (The Carter Center screening was arranged in part by an intern at the Center, by the name of Chris Borland; you might remember him...)

Carpenter's reflection on her father's life and decline contains some familiar elements from the stories of others; sudden mood swings, forgetfulness, becoming withdrawn and distant, and more. Lew Carpenter died at a relatively early phase of CTE research, though well after the early names like Mike Webster or Andre Waters. He became the 18th former NFL player to be diagnosed with CTE after his death in 2010 (keep in mind that number is pushing close to 100 now).

Rebecca Carpenter's experience is refreshingly informed by what might be called NFL privilege. As a result of her father's career, she was able to access an education and social status she would never have been able to access otherwise, and that such status allows her the privilege to make sure her son never gets near a football field "unless he's dating a cheerleader." It is a complicated situation, and at times her words carry the weight of survivor's guilt.

A different take on the subject of football airs tonight on something called truTV, a channel I know of only because it carries some early-round games in the NCAA basketball tournament. A comedic/informational show called "Adam Ruins Everything" promises to perform its title act on football in an episode airing tonight at 10:00 p.m.

Adam Conover is a stand-up comedian who developed the original version of the show for the website College Humor. Like the annoying friend who won't let you off the hook for believing those commonplace things that turn out to be untrue, Conniver takes a topic per show and takes down two or three myths associated with that subject. Tonight's subject is football, and Conover will sound the alarm about the health problems and myths associated with sports drinks as a principal means of hydration for young athletes; the degree to which the playoffs are thoroughly unsuited for determining the best player in the league; and ... the degree to which head injuries are far less avoidable than people think, it sounds like. (Oh, and the guy sources his information online.)

I don't know that you'll necessarily learn anything from Conover that you haven't already seen in this blog, but I have no doubt that Conover will have more eyeballs on his show tonight than this blog ever gets. So I won't complain if somebody else is out there banging the drum on how concussions are not the only culprit in football brain trauma.

So you have former players, and their family members, out there trying to make an impact; researchers like Dr. Ann McKee and Dr. Bennet Omalu; occasional journalists like Alan Schwartz of the New York Times; the Fainaru brothers, authors of League of Denial and occasoinal ESPN contributors, and a smattering of other journalists and authors.

From the precincts of the church, you get a few articles in Sojourners; a downloadable study from The Thoughtful Christian, which aims more generally at football than strictly brain trauma (and that seems to be the extent of my denomination's efforts in the area); a little bit of content from the Christian Century; and a few scattered efforts elsewhere. Not much, for a people whose ethic claims (often very loudly and rudely) to be about the preservation of life.

I don't know what will happen to Rebecca Carpenter's documentary; maybe it will get to HBO (although as invested in football as they are, probably not) or some other distribution. And a few people will see "Adam Ruins Everything" tonight as well.

That's something, I guess.

Airing in a little less than an hour...

Maybe it *is* a religion...

This one was too much to pass up...

You may have noticed in different news outlets (or on my social media feeds if you follow those) an amusing-looking story about a course offering at Presbyterian College, a small (yes, Presbyterian) school in a small South Carolina town, on a timely subject: The Religion of SEC Football.

It's an elective course, team-taught by professors in history and English who both identify as intense fans of schools in the Southeastern Conference. The course description is fairly descriptive:

Woo Pig Sooie!? Roll Tide!? Go Cocks!? What is it about college football that turns otherwise sane people into raving lunatics? Why is it that each fall millions of people schedule their lives around SEC football, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars for RV’s and tailgating for days prior to a game? Why do fans often hate another school — such as the ‘Bama fan who poisoned 130-year old trees at Auburn? This class will attempt to answer these sorts of questions by exploring the ‘religion’ of Southeastern Conference football and how each of us fit into that faith.

Sounds like fun, I guess.

In truth, the course is not new. It was first offered back in 2003, and has been offered "periodically" ever since. For whatever reason, this was the year that nationwide publicity came upon the class. It's a fairly interesting coincidence of timing, as Presbyterian's football team is making its biannual pilgrimage to serve as a sacrificial lamb for an SEC school, in this case the University of Florida, later this season. (Tickets are available.)

Of course, PC (as it's sometimes called) has a bit of experience as a sacrificial lamb. The school's athletic programs moved into NCAA Division I in 2007. The football team plays in the Football Championship Subdivision (what used to be called I-AA), in the Big South conference, but like many schools on that level it sells itself out to big-time programs as, in essence, cannon fodder. The gain in such a sacrifice, of course, is a paycheck, one that provides a substantial chunk of the athletic budget for a school of PC's size. (Please divest yourself of any fantasy you might hold about athletic revenue having any beneficial impact on the school's academic programs. Boosters essentially have to be bribed into supporting anything academic.)

I can only wonder what the benefit is beyond the paycheck. Partly as a result of their paycheck pursuits (they also travel to play Central Michigan of the Mid-American Conference), PC only has four home football games this year. If the point of such a move in the athletic department has anything to do with the enhancement of campus life, four home games seems a pretty meager return. For what it's worth, the Blue Hose (yep, that's the nickname) basketball program has known some bumps along the way in its Division I journey (with no subdivision to cover itself in that sport) but at least they got to play half their regular-season games at home last season.

In short, it might be worth some professor's time to develop a course on PC's own athletic journey and what, if any, benefit it has brought to the university as a whole. But for now, back to the class subject at hand, the "religion" of SEC football.

You might be expecting this blog to jump in feet-first. And yes, this blog would normally not pass up a chance to do so. But honestly, I can't quite get that excited by it.

Yes, there's a ton of excess in SEC fanship. The anecdotes related in the larger article above are all sufficient evidence of that -- the parents who blew off their daughter's wedding because it conflicted with a 'Bama game, the 'Bama guy who poisoned the Auburn trees, the PC professor who floated to his wife the idea of naming their child Zorback (as in Ra-Zorback) (I'm guessing he was at least joking somewhat, but it really did happen to someone...). It's comical, or it would be if it weren't so sad.

But such idolatry (and that's what is, well beyond mere "zealotry" as called in one of the articles) is hardly restricted to the SEC, is it?

The conference has its own network, sure, but in this they followed the lead of the Big Ten Eleven Fourteen Whatever.

Despite the antics of certain church-attendance-enforcing head coaches/violators of the Constitution, the SEC doesn't actually engage in the direct mixing of their athletic programs with religious missions (looking at you, Notre Dame, BYU; please sit down, Baylor).

Is the SEC egregiously bad about worshiping its teams, or even its own conference reputation? Yes. But you don't have to be in the SEC to have a cultish following.

Are they that much worse than, say, the Big Whatever, the Other Big Twelve Ten Whatever, the ACC, or the Pac-10 Whatever? I don't know that they are. And does it even compare to the idolatry of the NFL, the league which (as one of the better lines from Concussion puts it) now owns the day of the week that used to belong to the church?

And that probably isn't the worst part. The worst part, beyond the idolatry of any individual team or conference, is the inherent, but much less questioned, idolatry of the sport itself -- an idolatry that, as regular readers of this blog will guess I believe, claims its own physical sacrifices regularly.

When somebody develops an academic course that tackles that particular worship, then I'll pay more attention.

Circle Nov. 19 on your calendar...

Waiting on Science our Savior: How cells die from concussions

As has been insisted before on this blog, long and loud, the damage done to football players' brains -- what we call chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE -- is not -- I repeat, not -- strictly a matter of repeated concussions. Concussions still matter, though, and new research that hit print a couple of weeks ago offers a fairly chilling assessment of just how concussions do their dark anti-magic on the brain.

The research appeared in the journal Scientific Reports on August 2. It contains at least two striking and somewhat worrying findings in relation to the kinds of brain blows football players and other athletes receive, findings that can be informally correlated to the experiences of some such athletes with concussions.

Finding 1, demonstrated with a nifty time-lapse video in the CNN report linked above, suggests that how the individual cells that are damaged by concussive blows might be different than one might expect. As shown in the video, the damaged cell doesn't necessarily show a lot of damage on the outside, for as much as six hours. From that point forward, though, the damage becomes clearer, and as soon as another six hours the cell is dead.

What this seems to indicate, chillingly, is that the damage doesn't show up at first because it happening within the cell, an internal chemical process that only begins to show up in external observation once the affected neuron is mostly deteriorated inside. As a result, once the damage begins to show up on the cell's exterior, it's probably too late for that cell; the damage is irreparable.

I should hope it doesn't require explanation to consider this happening to multiple cells, neuron upon neuron, in the course of one concussion, a horrifying thought. So much brain damage -- what else is there to call it? -- in one moment.

It also makes some intuitive sense when one considers how many concussions reported among NFL players weren't immediately detected or the degree to which concussion symptoms don't always show up immediately. If the deterioration of a single cell can take up to twelve hours, it "sounds right" that it might take that long (or sometimes longer?) for a victim of a concussion to feel its effects.

On the flip side of that chilling thought, comes a thought about chilling. This bit of information offers some hope for researchers, who hope to build upon previous research suggesting a kind of hypothermia -- a "brain freeze," or at least a brain cooling, if you will -- may offer hope for heading off the damage before it becomes irreversible. Those studies aren't conclusive yet, though more are on the way. The researcher presenting the current research, Christian Frank of Brown University, is working with the concept of an inhaler-type device that would deliver a shot of cold air through the blood vessels to the brain and arrest the deterioration at the cellular level.

So in the future, if your favorite quarterback or safety comes off the field looking concussed, you might just see the medical staff hitting him with what looks like an asthma inhaler, but the medic might just be applying a brain freeze.

But back to the downsides. The research also suggested more strongly than before that there might be more than one type of brain injury going on in cells when concussive blows are received. Beyond the obvious blows (leaving the signs you might have seen if you saw the movie Concussion), researchers also found a second, less obvious type of damage, in which cells essentially "pull back" their connections from the surrounding neural networks and, in essence, quit.

This isn't a kind of injury that shows up readily in any kind of examination, pre- or post-mortem. So in other words, all those horrible stories of brains that were examined by the likes of Dr. Bennet Omalu or Dr. Ann McKee, reported to be so grisly and horrible ... might just have been understated.

At the risk of overusing a word, there is something particularly chilling in seeing such neuron deterioration playing out. Then doing the math; how many cells affected by a given blow? how many such blows a game? do all the blows really have to be concussion force to affect some of this kind of damage?, and the heart sinks, or hopefully it does, if you have one.

Concussions happen outside the NFL, of course. One might see the military, in the age of roadside bombs, standing to gain greatly from such research as this and any possible treatments that derive from it. Depending on the level of your pacifism one might see such injuries among soldiers as sad but inevitable or just sad and criminal, but at minimum one would hope no one would begrudge any such affected veteran whatever hope this research might produce.

One hopefully would not begrudge such hope to football players or other athletes, either, but to concede that point should not forestall the question of whether we have any business indulging in the behavior that produces such damage. Does our need for entertainment or our thirst for cathartic violence really justify this?

Concussions happen in other sports besides football, of course. So far, though (aside from certain elements in the NHL), no other sport seems inclined to treat such damage as necessary and inevitable.  Other sports don't talk about the violence that produces these injuries as intrinsic or necessary to the game, or have fans who make asinine sexist remarks about putting skirts on the players when any mitigation of such blows is suggested.

So even as a study like this one offers some beacon of hope, it points ever more deeply to the troubling and powerfully problematic nature of the whole enterprise, one that has been going on for decades. No person should feel even the tiniest compunction against deciding that she or he can't or won't watch it happen anymore.

Watch a neuron die. Now imagine a whole bunch at one blow. 

(As seen in Scientific Reports)

Weekly Reader: Another page from the tobacco playbook

Q: Which sports organization spent $1.2M on lobbyists and congressional lobbying in 2014, and has a political action committee that raised $900,000 in the last election cycle?

A: (Say it in Chris Berman's voice) The NAtional. FOOTball. League.

This one slipped by me. The NFL is becoming a fairly serious player in DC.

One might suspect the ongoing storm over brain trauma and chronic traumatic encephalopathy as the principal motivator for this increasing flexing of political mu$scle, and you'd be right to a large degree. Roger Goodell's halting and embarrassing turn on Capitol Hill in 2009 (seven years ago, if you can believe that) prompted the league to pour increased effort into, er, persuading members of Congress (the House Judiciary Committee in particular) to look more kindly on the NFL where concussions and trauma were concerned. You'll notice said committee has said bupkis on the subject since. (The bombshell admission of a link between football and such head trauma earlier this year happened before the House's Energy and Commerce Committee.)

But the final straw, so to speak, was actually Ray Rice's assault on his wife. As members of Congress got agitated and began to poke around the league's exposed nerves, the league finally concluded it needed a full-time point person on The Hill, and appointed a former Joe Biden aide to the task (some critics, you'll read in the link above, likened her move to that of a former lobbyist for MADD taking up a new job lobbying for the spirits industry, and they're probably not wrong). The most recent issue to come under NFL influence-spreading is the lucrative gambling rings-in-all-but-name known as daily fantasy sports, which has required a particularly blatant form of double-talk.

So what's the complaint? Corporations (which are people, my friend) have the legal right to lobby politicians. And if you want to assert that such lobbying takes place in every and all circumstances in a completely ethically pure and above-board manner, you have the right to do so.

I'll laugh in your face, but you do have the right to do so.

For comparison, the NFL's political spending noted above is about double that of MLB, NHL, and NBA combined, and the NHL and NBA don't even have PACs (the NFL's PAC about doubles MLB's in funds raised as well, even collecting almost exclusively from NFL owners and their family members).

Of course, those with a nose for history will remember that lobbying is reminiscent of how other ethically challenged businesses have preserved themselves over the years. One such industry that might come to mind? Oh, I don't know, maybe...the tobacco industry, already known to be tied to the NFL in spirit?

Is it legal? Yup. Does it smell? Oh, Hell, yes. (And I do use that word theologically.)


More stuff worth reading about that game:

*Ken Stabler was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Of course, he wasn't around to enjoy it, sadly.

*Speaking of the HoF induction, the game that typically goes with it had to be canceled, apparently because the paint used for the on-field logos turned hard and impenetrable. Wait, since when have rock-hard surfaces been a problem for football?

*The Tampa Bay Buccaneers franchise is trying a different kind of deep-freeze to rehabilitate its players.

*Sort-of football story: Um...o.k. 


From the Lords of the (Olympic) Rings:

*Is it bad sportsmanship to be vocal about cheating (which would seemingly be a pretty serious offense against sportsmanship)?

*When you've committed so many failures in preparing for the events of the Olympics, a pool that is suddenly and unexpectedly green is going to raise questions.


Other sporting realms:

*The NBA's Adam Silver has sounded almost progressive at times, and MLB's Rob Manfred has brought a degree of transparency to his office. MLS's Don Garber can be a little opaque at times but that league isn't quite there yet enough to cause great concern. So, if any commissioner was going to make the NFL's Goodell look like a morally upright and forward-thinking person, it had to be the NHL's Gary Bettman. And on cue... .

*Sometimes it's good to tip the hat to achievements without getting ethically worried, and so here's to Ichiro... .

*But then, some folks make that impossible.

Ichiro!

Trust

The NFL would like you to believe you can trust it on the subject of concussions and head trauma among its players. To that end (among other things), the league, in concert with the NFL Players Association, announced today that stricter guidelines and harsher punishments would be applied to teams that failed to follow the league's and NFLPA's agreed concussion protocols on game day. The case of Case Keenum, referenced here, was apparently the impetus for this toughening. Additionally commissioner Roger Goodell announced the NFL would be appointing a new chief medical officer.

The latter announcement, ironically enough, points to one of the most significant reasons why the NFL hasn't been and can't be trusted on the subject. The new officer will be in effect replacing Elliott Pellman, a rheumatologist who became for all practical purposes the face of the NFL's denial on brain trauma and chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) and as much of a villain in the process as anybody connected to the NFL. Indeed Pellman's stony-faced "no" in the face of questions that threatened to cause the NFL trouble is as much a representation of how the NFL became something of a modern moral equivalent to the tobacco industry.

Pellman, however, is not the only doctor associated with the NFL to come under scrutiny for his professional conduct in that role. Dr. Richard Ellenboegen, a member of the NFL's health committee, is under investigation by his own school (the University of Washington). Ellenboegen, co-chair of the league's Head, Neck, and Spine Committee, is also chair of U-Dub's Department of Neurological Surgery. UW is investigating Ellenboegen over his alleged attempts to influence the National Institutes of Health (NIH) to pull CTE research funding away from Boston University's program (one which has carried out some of the foremost research in the field so far) towards doctors who were more sympathetic to the NFL's position, including possibly some funded by the NFL.
In the meantime, the more new information comes out, the less the NFL looks like anything you want holding your life in its hands, and those who have been associated with the NFL are starting to feel the effects of that taint. Green Bay Packers great Paul Hornung has sued the league's primary helmet manufacturer, Riddell, over the ineffectualness of their helmets (Hornung now suffers from dementia). Also, another former NFL player, Haruki Nakamura, is now suing Lloyd's of London for failing to honor a policy he purchased from them. The policy was independent of the NFL in this case, but the NFL has declared Nakamura physically unfit to play in the league, which Lloyd's is contesting. Nakamura's wife describes how her husband changed after the injury, in a litany becoming all too familiar.

In the meantime, Calvin Johnson has talked about the many concussins of his career, none of which ever made it to an NFL injury report (not to mention the proliferation of painkillers dispensed to deal with them and other injuries); the player who has emerged as the primary advocate of marijuana use to deal with such injuries (and cut back on the painkillers) has decided to retire; a new NFL coach has apparently decided to have players hit in practice like it's 1999 (i.e. the age before brain trauma awareness);  and, in probably the most SMH development of all, a former NCAA and NFL running back avoided prison time for a drug offense by claiming he was being treated for CTE. You can't be "treated for CTE," since CTE can't be diagnosed until after death, and cadavers (as far as I know) don't receive medical treatment. Oh, and it's really looking like 30 is the new 40 where NFL retirement is concerned.

Perhaps the saddest or strangest part of the story is that the degree to which the NFL has managed to lose the public's trust, the NFL itself is not the entity most likely to suffer from that lack of trust. Instead, that "honor" probably falls to youth sports organizations (Pop Warner football and the like, but not just in football), ill-prepared for the scrutiny, which are now seeing folks conclude that tackle football (or, for example, heading the ball in soccer) just isn't appropriate anymore for children or even younger teenagers. Now in theory, this could eventually have an effect on the "pipeline" of talent into the NFL, but probably not soon and not as much as you might expect; the NFL (and the NCAA for that matter) will simply find different sources of talent, and there will always be plenty of young men who are convinced they are invulnerable. It's a macho thing, you know, even if they don't call it that anymore.

As NFL training camps and NCAA practices gear up in the coming weeks, I'm guessing more such stories will start to flow freely through the media. Summer vacation is over for Big Football, and scrutiny is only going to re-intensify. How much that matters? I'm not optimistic. There are actual fan groups that do seek to shine a spotlight on these abuses, but I fear they're a drop in the bucket compared to the literally obscene amounts of money the league rakes in. Popularity has never equalled ethical legitimacy, though, so the question of how we can justify an entertainment that sure as Hell looks like it irreparably damages about a third of its participants must and will continue to be asked, at least in this blog anyway.

At least Case Keenum's inglorious moment wasn't totally blown off, I guess...

Weekly Reader: Dale Jr.'s troubles

Even if he were a mediocre racer, Dale Earnhardt Jr. would be a big deal because of his name.

As it is, he's a pretty good racer, and is definitely a big name.

So having Dale Jr. sidelined by concussion-like symptoms is a big deal in NASCAR.

He missed last weekend's race in New Hampshire, and won't be racing again for a while. He hadn't felt well in the circuit's previous race in Kentucky, but thought he was suffering from allergies. When medication didn't help, Dale Jr., recalling previous concussion history, got himself checked and got the bad news. Having had two wrecks over a three-week span, such symptoms and diagnosis were not necessarily surprising.

Auto racing is one of those sports, unlike football or baseball (for the most part) or other team sports, where its competitors are at risk of being killed during competition, as Dale Earnhardt Jr. knows all to well. Mind you, if a racer dies on the track it is definitely not normal, and it is entirely correct to say that something went horribly and tragically wrong. But it can and does happen.

Not surprisingly, given that known and pronounced risk, Earnhardt Jr.'s condition raises questions for some observers about how many other drivers might be zipping around the track at crazy fast speeds with "concussion-like symptoms" (as he was in the Kentucky race, apparently). It's dangerous enough when everybody out there is mentally sharp; who wants to risk having the guy in the car next to you being a step slow and a second behind?

Dale Jr. is not the first NASCAR driver to face these symptoms. One of the more sensitive pieces to come forth in this interval was from Ricky Craven, a former NASCAR driver who went through a three-month interruption late in his career due to such symptoms. Craven admits that one of Earnhardt Jr.'s great temptations will be the urge to return as soon as possible, even though he might not be ready -- Craven admits that succuming to that urge set his return back, ultimately.

For NASCAR, it's entirely possible that Earnhardt Jr.'s struggles amplify the sport's difficulty with potential brain trauma more than might be the case with any NFL player. For one thing, while some active players have struggled with concussions, those players most associated with the NFL's head-trauma crisis are former players, for the most part, and deceased (since only after death can CTE be diagnosed). The "fan-player" relationship in NASCAR is felt particularly strongly and personally, as well; at its peak a few years back NASCAR did a particularly good job of marketing its racers and their personalities, so that even though they're quite strapped down and concealed in those cars their fans claim a particularly personal connection to Dale Jr. or JJ or any of the others. As a result, the death of a racer like Dale Jr.'s dad is keenly experienced by people who never met the man.

It also seems that NASCAR tends to court a particularly religous demographic in some cases. Naturally I'm curious as to whehter race fans will be affected by any particular faith concerns as they watch Earnhardt Jr.'s ongoing battle and (hopefully) recovery.

Perhaps as a result of NASCAR racers "having a face" (so to speak), the system will be a little less reluctant to respond in Dale Jr.'s case. On the other hand, NASCAR racers do race for teams, and the owner of Dale Jr.'s car is already expressing opinions about his viability for future races.

We shall see.

UPDATE: Jeff Gordon has been announced to sub for Earnhardt Jr. for the next two NASCAR races, presumably including the Brickyard 400 at Indianapolis Motor Speedway.

In other things relating to games and head trauma:

*Perhaps in response to Dale Jr.'s situation, the family of a former NASCAR great now suffering dementia announced that his brain would be donated for study after his death. This piece also offers a little background for Earnhardt Jr.'s decision to donate his own brain.

*Maybe this one doesn't belong on a blog about sports *coughNotRealcough*, but a number of former WWE participants are suing the organization over brain damage, and it's going about like you'd expect a WWE event to go.

*Speaking of personal reactions, Tommy Joseph hit a home run tonight for the Philadelphia Phillies agains the Miami Marlins. He now has thirteen homers this season, in only about fifty games since being called up from the minors. Joseph was a catcher for the Richmond Flying Squirrels while I was living there, and was traded from the San Francisco Giants organization to the Phillies for Hunter Pence, while the Squirrels were hosting the Phillies' AA team in a double-header. However, his prospect status had been derailed for the better part of two years due to concussions. Two years. Now playing first base, he does offer both hope and warning: it is possible to recover from concussions, but boy, does it take time.

In football:

*The column itself is actually from about a month and a half ago, but it is offered as an interesting perspective on informed risk and the NFL. Also, it seems to suggest that media voices may no longer be as easily swayed by the NFL's rhetoric as they used to be. That would be useful.

*From the Waiting on Science Our Savior Dept.: remember the MVPs, Dartmouth's robotic tackling dummies, developed to cut down on hits in practice? They're going pro.

Vaguely related:

*These two stories are not brain trauma-related, except in the sense that they may illustrate part of the challenge in dealing with the problem. In one story, a team of retired major leaguers is gearing up for a competition mostly against college players. In another, Ichiro Suzuki keeps churning away at age 42; he grounded out in a pinch-hitting turn in tonight's game reference above, leaving him six hits away from 3,000 for his MLB career (leaving aside all the hits he had in Japan). Sometimes the competitive urge is not easily conquered. Sometimes, as with Ichiro, that can be a good thing or at least a good story. (I'm not sure what it is with Clemens et al, although I can't stop myself wondering about the National Baseball Congress's drug-testing policies). Sometimes, though, that competitive urge keeps players going long after their bodies have told them it's time to walk away, which only increases the risk of injuries of all kinds.

Exactly what do we root for in that situation?

Dale Jr. and his ride, which he's not riding in right now...