Wednesday, November 13, 2013

mama, don't let your son grow up to be a football player!

When I was a kid I wanted to become a sports star. Football was a passion. We played in the rain and snow, hot or cold, day or night.
We didn't know we were setting ourselves for head injuries and the breakdown of various body parts then and later in life.

We did know not to cross over the line to becoming a medical monster filled with never ending rage that never turned off.

We played hard, hit hard and for the most part played clean. You were always tested. Sometimes you won, sometimes you lost. But at the end of the day you could walk away.

Not true in pro football. People are very uncomfortable now that the sleazy side has been revealed. You watch a game oblivious to men being injured and carted off the field, every game without exception. You shrug it off as part of the game. It is not.

Football appeals to the barbarian deep inside us all. Why else on more than one occasion has a crowd cheered when a player has been hurt? Good thing the thumbs up or down option doesn't exist.

I am glad my son does not play. I never thought I would say that. I have followed football since I was ten or so, that would be about 50 plus years. I know football. 

Sometimes you have to walk away. I am walking.


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