I have come to the conclusion that there is no solution to the problem of injuries in football. Notice I didn’t say “Pro Football.” Kids start in the Pop Warner League and play until they are shaving on a daily basis. But it seems that the biggest danger during this period is from parents. I have witnessed a few of these games and some of those moms have the mentality of serial killers. I even know a few grandmothers who have to be restrained if things aren’t going in favor of their precious grandchild.
Tim Lacy
When I was growing up, we didn’t know who Pop Warner was and had no clue there was organized football for youngsters. We had CYO Basketball, and our football was relegated to sandlots, playgrounds and parks. There was a street divider triangle at the end of my block, and I went home with a skinned knee or busted lip many times as a result of a spirited afternoon of tackle football. This was a way of life for us, and as they say, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” We had no equipment, so when Santa left a helmet under the tree at Christmas, we were invincible.
I played football in high school and had a bit of success because I was fast and smart enough to run close to the sideline so I could step out of bounds when danger was headed my way. When I went to college, the coach congratulated me on my skills and invited me to turn in my uniform because I was a couple of doughnuts short in the weight department. I pouted for a while, until I saw the game played on the college level and decided longevity was a good thing.
These memories returned when I revisited the question of injuries after a day of football last weekend saw 14 players limping after a little contact at 100 mph. I reflected on some of the injuries I had witnessed. When I lived in L.A. I was close friends with Dick Bass, running back for the Rams. Dick spent so much time in ice I’m sure he knew how it feels to be a popsicle. I shared a table with Willie Wood of Green Bay Packers fame at a banquet. Willie had both hips replaced six months prior and was still on a crutch. A few spots on TV showed Earl Campbell, who was the total offense for Bum Phillips’ Huston Oilers, on a walker. He was a superstar, but now his star has dimmed.
Washington NFL fans from back in the day remember when Bobby Mitchell came to town. When the new stadium was erected, it was called “The House that Bobby Mitchell Built.” Bobby displayed superstar performances week after week, despite the fact that he wasn’t feeling the love for being the first colored player in burgundy and gold. After a few games, the AFRO ran a three-column picture spread on the front page. There was President John F. Kennedy, James Meredith (first colored person to enter Ole Miss) and Bobby Mitchell depicted in a tackle-breaking twisting move. The captions read, “Mr. President, Mr. Courage and Mr. Twist.” I saw Bobby recently, and he is spending most of his time in a wheelchair.
The NFL is doing much to reduce the injuries, but the game is too fast and too violent. And there are plenty of objections from the players about the safety measures. When a rule was introduced to protect the quarterback, a defensive lineman was heard to say, “Why don’t you put ‘em in a dress?” These guys are gladiators and the mentality is, “Bring on the lions!”
There is no solution to the injury problem, so we may as well get used to seeing stretchers headed for the locker room with the latest casualty.
