I am starting to feel guilty about being a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. But my discomfort has little to do with the Steelers specifically or their aggressive style of play. It’s about football itself — the violence, the injuries, the physical and lifespan toll on football players.
Kevin Guskiewicz was a trainer for the Pittsburgh Steelers before getting his doctorate in sports medicine from the University of Virginia in 1995. He is now a professor at the University of North Carolina Injury Prevention Research Center, and has been named one of the 2011 MacArthur Fellows for his study of the diagnosis, treatment and prevention of sports-related concussions. Among his published work: “Recurrent concussion and risk of depression in retired professional football players.” Here is one of his findings:
Of retired pro players, 60% reported having at least one concussion during their career, and 25% reported three or more. Of the latter group, 20% had signs of clinical depression, three times higher than in the group of players with no concussions.
Another study reported that 35% of retired football players have “cognitive impairment”. This is a much higher rate than is found in the general population of the same age. Taken together, these studies predict that, of the twenty-two players you see on the field, seven will eventually show impairment and at least one will be diagnosed with clinical depression.
Modern sumo-class lineman have other occupational health issues besides head trauma. One study found that the typical lineman “had significant arterial plaque deposits in his neck, elevated heart calcium and blood plaque levels double the norm, putting him at great risk for heart attack or stroke”. This hardly comes as a surprise when, for example, you look at the weights listed for the current Pittsburgh Steelers offensive line:
Marcus Gilbert: 330 pounds.
Chris Kemoautu: 344 pounds.
Maurkice Pouncey, 304 pounds.
Max Starks, 345 pounds.
William Howard Taft, 335 pounds.*
(At left: Chris Kemoautu)
These guys are big and it is not all muscle. Many players have trouble losing this weight when they retire from the game. A Scripps Howard News Service study of 3,850 players found that these hefty lineman are twice as likely to die before reaching 50 than their lighter teammates. And the trend is not their friend: today’s players are larger than last year’s, who were larger than the year before, as this New York Times article pointed out:
In 1970, only one N.F.L. player weighed as much as 300 pounds [The Associated Press]. That number has expanded like players’ waistlines from three 300-pounders in 1980 to 94 in 1990, 301 in 2000, 394 in 2009 and 532 as training camps began in 2010.
A few years ago I had this idea: to reduce injuries and long-term health issues for players, football teams should be subject to a weight cap. In my scheme, this would mean that the total weight of all players who suit up for a given game could not exceed x pounds, else the team would forfeit the game. The first season this rule was in force, the weight cap would be set at the 95th percentile of the weight of all NFL teams. In each succeeding year, the weight cap would be reduced by 5 percent until the average player weight is 200 pounds or less (for comparison, the current Steeler roster averages 248 pounds). This would have two benefits: it would lessen the force of player-to-player impacts (and hopefully the risk of concussion and injury) and it would reduce obesity in linemen. It turns out this is not an original idea (what is, after all — but that’s another topic) but a good idea nonetheless.
I could go on citing sad facts, but the main point of this essay is the relationship between player, owner and fan. A player wants to make a living, and he chooses to make his living by performing on the field, doing whatever it takes to win, inflicting punishment on himself and others. An owner wants to put fans in the stadium, fans in front of the television, and fans in the merchandise store. The best way for an owner to make money is to present a contending team to his fans while minding his outlays. And fans want wins, one win after the next, relentlessly and insatiably.
I can’t be that kind of fan. I do not want Steelers victories at all cost, and I can no longer look the other way at the cost of football hits. I think most football hits involve more force than human bodies are designed to withstand, protective equipment or no. I think back to when I watched (and yes, enjoyed) Muhammed Ali’s fights during his prime in the 1970s. It was fun to watch the champion, to be witness to his mastery, to become immersed in the drama in the ring. But I walked away from each of those fights unscathed — Ali and his opponents bore the scars. I am now starting to feel guilty watching football the same way I felt guilty watching boxing.
It is not that I can’t stand the violence — I don’t think the players can stand the violence. Even though they have chosen this profession, I don’t think it is in the best interest of the players for me to participate in it.
It is good that people like Kevin Guskiewicz are trying to reduce the number and severity of football injuries. But if players continue to undergo the same punishment they do now, my conscience may dictate that I forgo Steelers football. This would be a small sacrifice compared to those being made, knowingly or otherwise, by the players themselves.
_______________________________________________________________
* Just kidding about Taft. He may have been offensive but he never played for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Like George H. W. Bush, he was a one-term Republican President. He outweighed Bush by 140 pounds, or roughly one Andrew Jackson.
Removed home, 1922. Erected sign, 1957. Sign read, 2011. Rest is history.
This sign in Beaufort, South Carolina, is for the benefit of… speed-reading drivers?
I am starting to feel guilty about being a Pittsburgh Steelers fan. But my discomfort has little to do with the Steelers specifically or their aggressive style of play. It’s about football itself — the violence, the injuries, the physical and lifespan toll on football players.
Kevin Guskiewicz was a trainer for the Pittsburgh Steelers before getting his doctorate in sports medicine from the University of Virginia in 1995. He is now a professor at the University of North Carolina Injury Prevention Research Center, and has been named one of the 2011 MacArthur Fellows for his study of the diagnosis, treatment and prevention of sports-related concussions. Among his published work: “Recurrent concussion and risk of depression in retired professional football players.” Here is one of his findings:
Of retired pro players, 60% reported having at least one concussion during their career, and 25% reported three or more. Of the latter group, 20% had signs of clinical depression, three times higher than in the group of players with no concussions.
Another study reported that 35% of retired football players have “cognitive impairment”. This is a much higher rate than is found in the general population of the same age. Taken together, these studies predict that, of the twenty-two players you see on the field, seven will eventually show impairment and at least one will be diagnosed with clinical depression.
Modern sumo-class lineman have other occupational health issues besides head trauma. One study found that the typical lineman “had significant arterial plaque deposits in his neck, elevated heart calcium and blood plaque levels double the norm, putting him at great risk for heart attack or stroke”. This hardly comes as a surprise when, for example, you look at the weights listed for the current Pittsburgh Steelers offensive line:
Marcus Gilbert: 330 pounds.
Chris Kemoautu: 344 pounds.
Maurkice Pouncey, 304 pounds.
Max Starks, 345 pounds.
William Howard Taft, 335 pounds.*
(At left: Chris Kemoautu)
These guys are big and it is not all muscle. Many players have trouble losing this weight when they retire from the game. A Scripps Howard News Service study of 3,850 players found that these hefty lineman are twice as likely to die before reaching 50 than their lighter teammates. And the trend is not their friend: today’s players are larger than last year’s, who were larger than the year before, as this New York Times article pointed out:
In 1970, only one N.F.L. player weighed as much as 300 pounds [The Associated Press]. That number has expanded like players’ waistlines from three 300-pounders in 1980 to 94 in 1990, 301 in 2000, 394 in 2009 and 532 as training camps began in 2010.
A few years ago I had this idea: to reduce injuries and long-term health issues for players, football teams should be subject to a weight cap. In my scheme, this would mean that the total weight of all players who suit up for a given game could not exceed x pounds, else the team would forfeit the game. The first season this rule was in force, the weight cap would be set at the 95th percentile of the weight of all NFL teams. In each succeeding year, the weight cap would be reduced by 5 percent until the average player weight is 200 pounds or less (for comparison, the current Steeler roster averages 248 pounds). This would have two benefits: it would lessen the force of player-to-player impacts (and hopefully the risk of concussion and injury) and it would reduce obesity in linemen. It turns out this is not an original idea (what is, after all — but that’s another topic) but a good idea nonetheless.
I could go on citing sad facts, but the main point of this essay is the relationship between player, owner and fan. A player wants to make a living, and he chooses to make his living by performing on the field, doing whatever it takes to win, inflicting punishment on himself and others. An owner wants to put fans in the stadium, fans in front of the television, and fans in the merchandise store. The best way for an owner to make money is to present a contending team to his fans while minding his outlays. And fans want wins, one win after the next, relentlessly and insatiably.
I can’t be that kind of fan. I do not want Steelers victories at all cost, and I can no longer look the other way at the cost of football hits. I think most football hits involve more force than human bodies are designed to withstand, protective equipment or no. I think back to when I watched (and yes, enjoyed) Muhammed Ali’s fights during his prime in the 1970s. It was fun to watch the champion, to be witness to his mastery, to become immersed in the drama in the ring. But I walked away from each of those fights unscathed — Ali and his opponents bore the scars. I am now starting to feel guilty watching football the same way I felt guilty watching boxing.
It is not that I can’t stand the violence — I don’t think the players can stand the violence. Even though they have chosen this profession, I don’t think it is in the best interest of the players for me to participate in it.
It is good that people like Kevin Guskiewicz are trying to reduce the number and severity of football injuries. But if players continue to undergo the same punishment they do now, my conscience may dictate that I forgo Steelers football. This would be a small sacrifice compared to those being made, knowingly or otherwise, by the players themselves.
_______________________________________________________________
* Just kidding about Taft. He may have been offensive but he never played for the Pittsburgh Steelers. Like George H. W. Bush, he was a one-term Republican President. He outweighed Bush by 140 pounds, or roughly one Andrew Jackson.