For the Sake of Football

The most talked-about event of this past week's NFL action was undoubtedly Tim Tebow's miraculous comeback against the Bears, erasing a 10-point deficit and aiding the broncos to a clutch victory. While I shamelessly admit that I was in total awe as I watched Tebow drive down the field and ultimately triumph over seemingly insurmountable odds, I did not see this as the sports world's most significant story of the week. That designation, at least in my opinion, went to the groundbreaking disciplinary action the league issued upon Steelers linebacker James Harrison, as a consequence of his blatantly illicit helmet-to-helmet hit on the Browns' Colt McCoy.

Allow me to walk you through the play. It's second down and 5, Browns' ball, a little over halfway through the fourth quarter. McCoy takes the snap, drops back in the pocket, and can't find anyone to throw to. He avoids pressure from the right and runs left. Just as he is about to cross the line of scrimmage, he tosses a short pass to Montario Hardesty, right before getting absolutely blasted by Harrison. At no point did McCoy lower his head in anticipation of contact. He didn't even change direction. He merely took a step or two and was dealt a massive blow to the face mask that forced the quarterback's head to snap backwards, leading to a concussion. Since McCoy had released the ball mere milliseconds beforehand, Harrison cannot be blamed for initiating contact with him. He can, and must, be blamed, however, for deliberately aiming his own helmet at McCoy's. Harrison, from what I can tell, used his helmet as a weapon, an action that has proven to highly endanger all players involved, and one which the NFL has rightly stated will not be tolerated.

As a result of Harrison's illegal hit on McCoy, and bearing in mind his illustrious history with similar unnecessary actions, the league announced a few days ago that the Steelers' linebacker would be suspended for a game. This was the first occasion in which Roger Goodell and the NFL administration made good on their threat of forcing players to miss time as a direct result of continued dangerous contact.

While I applaud the league for coming through with their warning, I do not believe that this suspension should have been the first. Over the last two years, Harrison has been fined no less than six times for on-the-field actions, amounting to $125,000. The simple fact is that in a profession in which someone is paid millions of dollars a year, the prospect of forfeiting a fraction of that salary does not have nearly the effect that suspending them from play can. Fines hurt the individual, and usually to an almost unnoticeable extent. Suspensions hurt the entire team. Harrison should have been suspended earlier in his career. So should have Dunta Robinson and others who acted similarly and endangered both their opponents and themselves through reckless play.

I say all of this fully knowing that it is very hard for professional athletes to alter their playing styles. It is understandably difficult to change how you play the game, when you have played that way your entire life. But the unfortunate truth is that if things do not change, and if serious concussions continue to mar the lives of the NFL's players, during their careers and after their playing days are over, it is hard for me to imagine the league (and perhaps the sport entirely) existing in 30 or 40 years. The stories of past NFL athletes and their problems with dementia and depression are disturbing. The most striking is of Steelers great Mike Webster, perhaps the best center to ever take the field. After a 17-year career, Webster spent the remainder of his life living on the floor of the Pittsburgh Amtrak station, feeding his formerly 260-pound, chiseled body with potato chips and dry cereal for meals. His constant headaches were so painful that Webster often needed to use a Taser gun on himself, up to a dozen times, in order to afford himself a few blissful hours of sleep. He died at just 50 years old, a broken man. Other tragedies include Eagles cornerback Andre Waters, who shot himself in the head at 44, and Terry Long, another Steelers lineman, who committed suicide by drinking antifreeze. The autopsies of all three of these men unearthed the presence of CTE, a progressive disease in the brain that has, as of now, only been found in victims of multiple concussions. Something must be done to limit the damage that NFL players' brains are dealt over the course of their careers, or else many individuals in this generation of NFL stars will become the next Andre Waters, the next Terry Longs, the next Mike Websters.

Many concussions in such a violent sport are unavoidable, but those that are preventable must be done away with. James Harrison's twitter response to his suspension was "LOL". He has made it clear that he does not intend to change his playing style, even following his suspension. My view is that, like in any occupation, there are rules of conduct that must be adhered to when one signs a contract with a pro sports team. If Harrison continues to break these rules, he should continue to be suspended, for longer and longer periods, and if all else fails, be permanently banned from the league. So should all players who choose to endanger the futures of their opponents. This may seem harsh, but I firmly believe that it is the only way in which the league can survive. The NFL cannot, in good conscience, continue sending men out on the field when they prove, time and time again, to suffer dearly for doing so later on. In my mind, the only means through which this egregious behavior can be stopped, not just in Harrison's case, but universally, is if true, lasting and impactful repercussions become the norm in addressing it.