Sunday, August 11, 2013

Football Season is Upon Us: Mixed Feelings this Year


I’m usually really excited when football season starts, this year, not so much. I love football and always have. There is a special energy of football that I've sensed every fall, even when I didn’t understand it very well. I remember arguing with my 7th grade math teacher about a football math problem he assigned. He marked my answer wrong for concluding that the football would end up on the 60 yard line. The answer, of course, was the opponent’s 40 yard line; but my answer was still mathematically correct. I tried to learn and understand the game after that. And still I didn’t get it until I was 16 years old.

I remember spending an entire week-end in front of the TV that fall. I was bound and determined to learn how this game worked. I could never understand the way men and boys explained it to me. It seemed that they were deliberately trying to confuse me. Maybe they were. At any rate, I just had to figure this football thing out because I just couldn’t stand knowing that there were a bunch of guys at school, who were nowhere near the head of the class, who lived and breathed it, and to this day have an understanding of the game that I will never know; and that I just couldn’t get it.  Because being at the head of the class was the only thing in my life, besides Rhonda (my BFF still), that made me feel worth anything. So – I had to know. I could not permit myself to remain in such a state of ignorance over this thing, this football thing.

Fortunately for me, and as I look back on it now, somewhat serendipitously, that was the fall that Mark Harmon, a really cute guy that I have had a crush on since I first saw him appear on Ozzie and Harriett, was the QB for the UCLA Bruins. That was the day that first put UCLA into my heart and I just never got over it. It was always there calling to me, even when I just wanted to be a sloth; when I preferred ease to wholeness in my life, it was still calling to me.

But, I digress. That week-end I learned about football and came to love it and was able to talk to the guys at school about it. Those were the days of Lance Rentzel, Charley Taylor, Dick Butkus and even Darryl-the-mad-bomber-LaMonica! Remember the Fearsome Foursome? The Sack Pack? Remember those great Steelers/Cowboys Superbowls? Football is fall in America for a lot of people, let’s face it. I still cry when I see ‘Brian’s Song.’ The old one is the best!

So, why the mixed feelings about football this year, given my long and personal relationship with this gridiron pleasure? Mostly it’s because it is more difficult to watch now, after reading about all the consequences of head trauma, including young men committing suicide. We really can’t just pretend that this isn’t happening, can we?

I know that it is unrealistic to think that we are going to alter our football habits anytime soon. There’s too much money to be made, after all. And I don’t know how I will feel when the season is in full swing, especially if my UCLA Bruins have a really good team this year. But for right now, I’ve been avoiding the games. I’m not advocating a boycott, or any other action or inaction. I’m not asking anyone to follow me because I’m not sure where I’m going with this issue. I just know that I’m wrestling with it, and had to write about it – to get my thoughts out on paper where I can see them more clearly.

I just know that with every hit, especially those to the head, it just increases the likelihood of brain trauma and its long-term effects. Knowing that these men are taking such a tremendous risk with vital organs takes some of the pleasure out of it for me. I know they make a lot of money, but there is not enough money in the world to motivate me to consistently damage my brain.

I heard Malcolm Gladwell talk about this issue and have read some of his writing about it, and now I can’t un-hear that information. Gladwell talked about the possibility of slowly changing the culture, and the place to start was at the grade school through college level. He too has no delusions about how difficult it will be questioning one of America’s favorite fall traditions, but believes that, once they see how very dangerous it is to the brain, more and more mothers will make the choice not to risk jeopardizing their son’s, or daughter’s, mental health and future. Moreover, he argued, it is important to illuminate all possible consequences of our choices; and to examine their juxtaposition to the child’s intended future.

For example, if you prepare your child for an Ivy League education, and then enroll that child in an activity which is now known to cause serious, and sometimes fatal,  brain dysfunction and mental health issues in the future, then perhaps these goals are at cross purposes. What sense does it make paying through the nose for an expensive education, and then to discount those potential benefits by creating future mental and emotional issues due to serious and sustained blows to the head?

For this reason, Gladwell suggests that any major campaign begin with the elite colleges and universities, not known or sought after for their athletic prowess. Places like Stanford, Harvard and other Ivy League schools, perhaps would appreciate the impediment to intellect it is to have your head being banged on every day in practice. Perhaps parents will be less willing to run the risk of having to bury their child prematurely -- every parent’s worst nightmare -- for the privilege of having a football hero in the house.

As we continue to discover more about our brains, now that the Obama Administration has committed to mapping the human brain, we will have more and better information about how our brain works. Maybe we can invent a better helmet, or alter some of the rules, or discover a means by which the damage caused can be repaired, as well as avoided. In the long run, we may need to alter some of our attitudes in order to preserve the sport. Or maybe we will discover that the risk is greater than we now believe, and gradually abandon it altogether. I know that seems unlikely now, especially for the real powerhouse NCAA conferences in the south, like the SEC.

Sometimes it seems that the old and familiar is no longer the comfort it once was. Growing up, as a person or a society, means giving up things. I don’t know if I’m ready to give up football entirely, but something is different now; something important. To be continued . . .

 

 

No comments:

Post a Comment