NFL Former Players

Rush for a Cause

2011-04-14T16:48:00.002-04:00

Save the Date: Saturday, August 13, 2011

On what will surely be a cool, dry and sunny Saturday on August 13, 2011, over 100 youth tackle and flag football teams from all over Northeast Ohio, thousands of siblings and parents and hundreds of cheerleaders in their respective Cheerleading Clinics will descend upon the facilities of Brecksville Broadview Heights High School for the Rush for a Cause Family Football Blitz. You will want to Save The Date, Saturday, August 13, 2011, for this Fun Family Day, and this worthy Cause.

All proceeds benefit Rush for a Cause, a 501(c)(3) non-profit organization to provide community and financial support for qualified tragically and severely injured athletes, to raise awareness for the need, and to promote injury prevention.

The Blitz weekend will be kicked off, no pun intended, on Friday night, August 12, 2011 with the visiting Highland HIgh School Hornets battling the Brecksville Broadview Heights High School BEES in the Hive, with the Varsity, Junior Varsity and 9th Grade football scrimmages.

This Blitz will be a fun filled family day for all ages with Cheerleading Clinics, inflatable games, Bounce Castle, obstacle course, face painting, dunk machine, rock climbing wall, Slient Auction, 50/50 raffle and many more activities, with plenty of food and refreshments.

Entertainment already booked at this early planning stage, with much more to be scheduled over the following months, includes Cheerleading Demonstrations by Cheer World of Broadview Heights and Ultimate Athletics of Ohio, Victory Strength Team, Infusion Crew, and performances by the St. Ignatius Circus, balloon animals by Jingles the Clown and Lady Bug, Magic by Mr. Zap the Wonder Chap and Big Al The Clown Balloon Artist and Highly Favored Mimes.

The NFL Punt Pass & Kick local competition for both boys and girls, ages 6 to 15 years old will also be a major component of Blitz, and Pre-Registration will start on May 3, 2011, at www.nflppk.com

While both tackle and flag teams from Strongsville, Medina, North Royalton, Broadview Heights, Brecksville, East Cleveland Police Athletic League, and CYO have already registered, there is still, for now, plenty of room left for your youth football team, both tackle and flag. As Blitz will definitely fill up to capacity, please don't be left out of this first come, first served event, as field space is limited.

Please visit www.rushforacause.org and sign up today for either football scrimmages or Cheerleading Clinics for Pre-K to 12th grade seniors, while space is still available and you can get get your preferred scrimmage time slot.

Numerous volunteers are also needed for this function, so if you are interested in helping this worthy Cause, go to the website and contact the respective Chairperson of the event for which you are interested in helping.

Scrimmage time is free, but voluntary donations of $5 per Adult, and $2 per Child will be solicited upon entry, and all such donations will each receive two (2) free game tickets for the day's family fun."

Sincerely,

Bruce Noggle
Chairperson
Rush for a Cause Family Football Blitz
Day 216-226-4168
Cell 216-577-8789
Home 440-838-0591

www.rushforacause.org

Mission
To support tragically and severely injured athletes,
bring awareness for the need, and help promote injury prevention.

Motto
"Service Before Self"

Flag football is king for day at Rooney's residence in Dublin

2010-07-05T10:01:00.001-04:00

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
Monday, July 05, 2010

By Conor O'Clery, GlobalPost

DUBLIN, Ireland -- American flags flapped in the wind, blue smoke swirled from barbeques, and Dan Rooney, owner of the Pittsburgh Steelers, presided over a game of American football.

It could have been a Fourth of July event in the United States. But this was Dublin, Ireland, where Mr. Rooney is the U.S. ambassador, and he was making history by staging an "Irish American Flag Football Classic" at his residence in the capital city's Phoenix Park.

Mr. Rooney brought 32 members of his extended family to Dublin for the occasion, including his sons Art Rooney II, team president of the Pittsburgh Steelers, and Dan, the Steelers' college scout. The pair were given two days to select and train opposing teams of Irish and American volunteers, the "Dublin 8s" and the "Phoenix Park Pirates," for a challenge game as the centerpiece of an old-fashioned July 4th picnic.

Ireland's Prime Minister Brian Cowen took a break from watching World Cup games on television and was given the honor of tossing the coin.

The team rosters included embassy diplomats and Marines, local Gaelic football, rugby and soccer players, and the neighbor's kids -- Ireland's President Mary McAleese lives in a nearby wooded estate and her son, Justin, kitted out in yellow for the Dublin 8s, and daughter, Emma, played in blue for the Pirates.

The idea of a first-ever American football game at the residence arose after Mr. Rooney presented his credentials to President McAleese on July 3rd last year. He discovered next day that the U.S. embassy staged an Independence Day baseball game on the 62-acre property.

"I thought, hey, if you can do a baseball game, you can have a football game," Mr. Rooney said.

The decision to replace baseball with football involved lengthy preparation. It took two months to prepare a football field on the vast meadow in front of the elegant 230-year-old residence, which before Irish independence belonged to Britain's chief secretary in Ireland. The task was undertaken by Peter McKenna, stadium director of Dublin's Croke Park.

"The ambassador asked could we make a pitch," said Mr. McKenna, making a last-minute inspection as hundreds of Irish and American guests gathered on the sidelines. "There was a lot of undulating ground and we had to lift the grass and fill in the holes to create a flat surface."

He provided bleachers, American football posts (made in Belfast) and giant television screens for live coverage and play-backs. He had the word "Steelers" painted on the thick-blade meadow grass and the ambassador's seal of office in the middle.

Mr. McKenna constructed the pitch pro bono as a way of saying thank you to American team owners, including Mr. Rooney, who had provided advice for the reconstruction six years ago of the stands at Croke Park, the home of Gaelic football, which now has a capacity of 82,000.

"The Croke Park people did a marvelous job," said Mr. Rooney at the start of the event, which was sponsored by the American Chamber of Commerce and Pepsico.

Mr. Rooney, credited with the "Rooney Rule" that which requires NFL teams to interview minority candidates for management and coaching vacancies, developed his own set of "Rooney Rules" for this game. For example, he had ruled that it should be a noncontact game of flag football, played with only eight on each side as the ground was somewhat smaller than regulation size.

Historic trees on the fringes could not be moved to make it bigger. These included a northern red oak planted by Vice President George H.W. Bush on a visit in 1983 and a giant spruce put there in 1868 by the Prince of Wales.

The one thing the ambassador could not guarantee was the cooperation of the notoriously fickle Irish summer weather.

"We walked around the pitch saying the rosary every evening and praying for sunshine," the ambassador's wife, Patricia, said. The Rooneys are practicing Catholics, and the ambassador attends Mass every day, wherever his duties take him.

After a morning of rain, the clouds rolled away and the game was played in blazing sunshine. Mr. Cowen and most everyone else took off their jackets, munched on hot dogs, scooped up ice cream and watched the Dublin 8s hammer the Pirates, 28-15.

Over the loudspeakers commentator Paul Collins from Ireland's Today FM radio station teased Art Rooney unmercifully, suggesting he don sunglasses to disguise himself on the seven-hour flight home.

After the game, Mr. Rooney said he has invited President Barack Obama to visit Ireland.

"I have been urging him to come," said Mr. Rooney. "We have installed a new basketball hoop ready for him."

Problems at home such as the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico have kept him from traveling abroad, said Mr. Rooney. "But he wants to come," he added.

Archie Roberts comes full circle in the NFL

2010-07-05T09:55:00.004-04:00

Los Angeles Times
by Jerry Crowe
July 4, 2010

After playing only one game as a professional in the 1960s, Roberts focused on a career as a surgeon. He now has partnered with the NFL Players Assn. to screen retired players for heart disease.

Reporting from New York — Archie Roberts knew he faced daunting, almost impossibly long odds, but he was young, ambitious and maybe a little naive.

He wanted to be a surgeon and a professional football player.

So there he was in the mid-1960s, the Columbia graduate and aspiring quarterback endeavoring to make an impression on the Cleveland Browns and Miami Dolphins while also attending medical school, a daunting double few would even attempt.

Roberts, his professional football experience limited to one game, ultimately left a more indelible legacy with a scalpel than a football, performing more than 4,000 open-heart procedures during 2½ decades as a cardiovascular surgeon.

More recently, he founded the Living Heart Foundation, which pioneered advanced mobile methods for cardiovascular screening in an attempt to raise awareness about heart disease.

Concerned about the increasing size of NFL players and the risks associated with the added weight, Roberts has partnered with the NFL Players Assn. to screen retired players.

"It's really something wonderful," Andre Collins, a former NFL linebacker and director of the NFLPA's retired players division, says of the program. "There have been life-threatening situations that have been avoided because of these routine screenings."

Roberts, 67, estimates that about 1,500 former players have been tested so far, with about 10,000 more to go.

"It feels natural and comfortable," the physician passer says of his return to the NFL universe all these years later. "I can make a contribution where I feel there has been a real need."

A three-sport letterman as a prep star in Holyoke, Mass., and again at Columbia, Roberts decided before he ever set foot on the Ivy League campus in Manhattan's Morningside Heights neighborhood that he would pursue a career in medicine.

But his football and baseball success at Columbia, where he set numerous Ivy League records in football and was an All-American shortstop, gave him opportunities he never anticipated.

The Kansas City Athletics, he says, wanted to make him a high pick in the 1965 amateur baseball draft — but only if the undergraduate would leave school a semester early.

The New York Jets showed interest too, making him the 51st pick in the 1965 AFL draft — after making Joe Namath the first.

"It was tempting," Roberts says over coffee during a late-morning interview at a midtown Manhattan eatery. "The money in sports back then wasn't what it is now, but to a kid that had very little money, from a small town in western Massachusetts, any kind of money like they were talking about, whether it was football or baseball, would have been appreciated.

"But it was not meant to be for me because of the way I was brought up and the value systems I had developed."

Medicine was his mission.

But then the Browns made an offer he couldn't refuse: In a deal brokered by owner Art Modell, a transplanted New Yorker, they paid for Roberts to study medicine at Case Western Reserve University while basically working part-time for the Browns.

For two seasons, Roberts joined the Browns at training camp, stayed with them through the exhibition season and then was assigned to the taxi squad as an emergency backup.

"In today's age, it wouldn't be possible," he says of the arrangement, "but even in those days, it was way out."

Roberts, however, longed to do more than sit and watch.

In 1967, sensing a greater opportunity elsewhere and without objection from the Browns, he signed with the Dolphins, who had joined the AFL as an expansion team a year earlier.

"But as luck would have it," Roberts says, laughing, " Bob Griese was drafted and came in that year."

During a semester's leave of absence from medical school, however, Roberts finally got onto the field.

In a 41-0 loss to the Kansas City Chiefs, he completed five of 10 passes for 11 yards, with one interception.

And that was that.

He never played again and, after the season, returned to med school to resume his studies. A few years later, Roberts launched a distinguished career as a cardiologist.

Settled in Little Silver, N.J., with wife Nancy, the grandfather of six looked forward to several more years of open-heart procedures when, in 1997, he felt numbness in his right arm and helplessly slurred his words while giving a lecture.

He had suffered a stroke.

"I was a doctor giving advice to my patients but not living healthy myself," says the 6-foot, 190-pound Roberts, who at the time carried an additional 25 pounds. "There were risk factors that any good doctor would have recognized — I had put on weight and my cholesterol was high — yet I was too busy doing my thing.

"And that's pretty stupid."

The stroke may have prematurely ended Roberts' surgical career, but it led him back to the NFL through his foundation.

What if, years ago, he'd devoted his full attention to football?

"I've often wondered," Roberts says. "I'll always wonder. But I can never answer the question."

Thousands of heart patients, of course, are the better for it.

"I was never diagnosed with a concussion"

2010-07-04T09:02:00.000-04:00

Chicago Sun-Times
July 2, 2010
BY RICK TELANDER Sun-Times Columnist

I can hear Jack Rudnay swearing, and it alarms me. The yelling is not loud, nor is it constant. But it has an edge to it. ''[Bleep]er!'' I wait a moment, and there is quiet. I'm sitting on a chair in the guest bedroom at Rudnay's farm 160 miles southeast of Kansas City, Mo., near the tiny town of Versailles. There are just the two of us here, other than his six horses, the pet turtle in the tank and the multitudinous largemouth bass in his 18-acre lake.

Jack is divorced and his two daughters are grown. He drives to Kansas City several times a week to run his veterinary supply manufacturing business and to spend time with his girlfriend, Linda. But he is alone often here on the farm, in these wooded hills with the grassy fields and the half-mile-long gravel driveway that, as he puts it, ''Nobody drives down by mistake.''

I hear him again. ''[Bleep]!''

I walk out of the bedroom and look into the large, glassed, high-ceiling room that holds the one-lane swimming pool that is now as much a part of Rudnay's world as breathing.

He is on his back in the center of the pool, in baggy black trunks, his body lean and pale, dogpaddling fitfully against the constant current. Rudnay's eyes are closed, his breathing labored, his jaw set in defiance.

''[Bleep]er!'' he hisses.

I back out quietly. A few minutes later, when he has dried off and re-entered the main house, I ask Rudnay how his swim was.

''Good,'' he says. ''Very good.''

Jack Rudnay, 62, is a battered man. He will never complain. Never. That's not how you become one of the greatest linemen in Northwestern history and a 13-year NFL veteran -- all of them with the Kansas City Chiefs -- four of those years as the AFC starting center in the Pro Bowl.

You've probably seen Rudnay in that oft-run Silver Bullet beer commercial, the one with Chiefs coach Hank Stram prancing on the Super Bowl IV sideline. Rudnay's the bearded guy in the business suit behind Stram. Jack fractured three vertebrae in the 1969 College All-Star Game, and was on injured reserve for that 1970 Super Bowl championship, his rookie year.

The back injury was just the start; or rather, it was a continuation of the thread of wounds and rehabilitation and denial that was already being stitched into the fabric of his being. A working-class kid from Chagrin Falls, Ohio, outside Cleveland, Rudnay wrestled in the state high school tourney with two separated shoulders, and never had or expected toys as a child. Recruited mostly by Ivy League schools, he arrived at Northwestern in the late summer of 1965, driven by a high school pal in a rusting Pontiac Tempest. The pal dropped Rudnay off outside Elder Hall on Sheridan Road, turned around and drove back to Cleveland.

''There were happy families everywhere,'' recalls Rudnay, whose own father died when Jack was 2. ''I had three cardboard boxes, and I'm standing there alone. It was like a foreign country.''

When he tells a story such as this -- simply and succinctly -- there is such passion welded into his words that Rudnay often will get teary-eyed and his voice will crack. Sometimes the tears literally stream down his face, such as when he described the joy of being asked two years ago by Northwestern coach Pat Fitzgerald to address the Wildcats football team on the field. ''It was beautiful for me,'' he said. We were in his car when he told me that story, on the long drive from the Kansas City Airport, and at first I thought he might have allergies or dust in his eyes. Eventually, he wiped the tears from his face and we drove on.

But Rudnay never weeps over physical pain. He has a specially built hot tub on the deck next to his pool, with high-pressure jets that are customized for his wrists, hips and back. And the 19-foot constant-current pool is the gentlest way he can exercise. Indeed, it's basically the only way.

On bad days, Jack is halfway crippled, overwhelmed by nerve pain in his arms and spine and throbbing osteoarthritis pain in just about every other joint. One knee is sort of OK, but that is compromised by the four surgeries to replace a damaged right hip joint.

The first surgery wasn't a success, and the hip kept slipping out of its socket. Ten times that happened. Rudnay learned how to get the dislocated joint back in place by using rope or sheets, wrapping them around his foot and having several people hold his torso while one yanked the coil as hard as possible.

Dr. Victoria Brander, an associate professor of physical medicine and rehabilitation at Northwestern University and a partner in the Northwestern Orthopedic Institute, says she marvels at the former football players she sees in her arthritis practice.

''Matched to their non-athlete peers, the level of arthritis for them is much greater,'' she says. ''Yet their perception of pain and disability is much less. These old warriors. They refuse to give in.'' She sighs, looking at me suspiciously. ''As if it's giving in.''

Pat Harrington, the captain of our Northwestern team in 1969, and an arthritically challenged hobbler himself, calls Rudnay's farmhouse set-up ''Aqua Land.'' A better term might be ''Water World,'' for without the H2O and the pain pills and the nerve pills he takes when he starts to get mean and intolerant, Rudnay would live in something closer to hell.

''I never was diagnosed with a concussion,'' he says. ''But I went into the Green Bay huddle a couple of times.''

The warrior code meant Rudnay continued on, out of duty. Indeed, he played in 144 straight NFL games after 30 straight with Northwestern. ''I felt it was a sacred obligation with my teammates and my opponents,'' he says, sounding philosophical. He reads constantly and he meditates, and he says, ''I think I'm a Buddhist, spiritually, at least. I'm alone a lot, and the universe is my church.''

But he also practiced in the church of hurt, becoming a high priest there. At Northwestern, he was a 6-3, 235-pound dynamo at defensive tackle and center, and though he got up to 280 pounds in the NFL, he would often drop to as low as 220 by the end of the season. It was his battery that never faltered.

''I wanted the ability to have an on-off switch, and believe me, you didn't want to see me on Sunday,'' he says. ''I was a professional killer.''

During the weekend that I am with Rudnay, he gets a call from former lineman Ed White, a friend of his who played 17 years with the Minnesota Vikings and San Diego Chargers. It is interesting, because what they discuss is the passing of a beloved assistant coach and a ''brain study'' in California they would like to be involved in because there is word that some of the herbal additives and powders being talked about can restore or enhance mental capacity.

Like all of us around 60, Rudnay isn't sure what his brain should be like.

''I guess my short-term memory has been slightly affected [by head blows],'' he says. ''But how do you know? I always forgot things.''

He had looked at me as we slowly walked toward his lake in the morning.

''You got a hitch in your giddy-up there, brother,'' he said, concerned.

Yes, I'm joint-damaged like the others, though a lot of it is from pick-up basketball, if it matters. My right shoulder has never been good since a tackle junior year. Some of my fingers are messed up. We all chose to do what we did, anyway. How many concussions did I have in football? One? Two? What's the joke answer: None, that I remember! And a firestorm last winter in my spinal cord staggers me yet. Transverse myelitis they call it. From a flu shot? From football? Both arms and one leg were paralyzed. Scary as hell.

Rudnay quotes Carlos Castaneda to me, ''We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same.''

Rudnay's the guy who has dislocated every finger on both hands and dislocated both big toes so badly that they touched the top of each foot. Sometimes he has to turn on the ignition of his car with his left hand because the right hand won't work. His blocking technique was to punch with both hands after centering the ball -- ''maybe a million times,'' he says. This destroyed his wrists. And once he busted the little finger on his right hand so badly that the bone protruded from the skin. He taped the pinky to his ring finger.

''The team doctor said, 'You are through.' I said, 'Doc, you don't understand. I'm kicking this guy's ass!'''

He went back in, and blood from his pinky spattered the white pants of startled quarterback Mike Livingston and tailback Ed Podolak on each snap.

So it goes.

''People get pain and suffering confused,'' Rudnay says.

We do.

"I have to jot things down to remember them"

2010-07-04T08:52:00.003-04:00

July 4, 2010

BY RICK TELANDER Sun-Times Columnist

George Keporos was a specimen. The curly haired tackle stood 6-1, weighed 255 pounds, had 21-inch arms, a 22-inch neck, benched 350, and ran the 40 in 4.9. This was 40 years ago, before such things were common. Still, George sometimes got knocked around, as everyone who played Big Ten football did. In the 1971 Northwestern opener against Michigan at Dyche Stadium, he took a blow to the head and went down.

''I got knocked out before half, and they carried me off the field,'' he says now, as we sit in the living room of his compact but luxurious condo on Illinois Street. just east of Michigan Avenue. ''We were ahead, 6-0, when I went out, and I wake up on the bench and it's 21-6, Michigan!

He laughs at the silliness of the tale, the cartoon-like dreaminess that comes with getting the old bell rung. But George played hard and got dinged a few times. And some of the players around him were concerned.

When Eric Hutchinson, our All-America free safety, got a concussion in a 1970 game, he came to the sideline and was disoriented and done for the day. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he watched the game. ''Please don't make me like George,'' he pleaded to no one.

We all joked about each other's head collisions, about seeing stars, about birds tweeting, planets circling. Hutchinson was briefly out of his mind and had no idea what he was saying for that day. Brain trauma was not that big a deal back in that era, anyway, largely because no one understood the lingering or delayed or compounding effects of such unseen wounds.

It also was hard to take any injury seriously when the guy looked fine. That is rapidly changing. A recent Time Magazine cover story on the dangers of football states, ''No other sport gives rise to as many serious brain injuries as football. High school players alone suffer 43,000 to 67,000 concussions per year, though the true incidence is likely much higher.'' The reason the incidence is underreported is that most concussed players never say anything about their symptoms.

There is another, unwitting, culprit here. In a survey, college trainers stated that they observed concussions in only about 6 percent of the players under their watch. But when the college players were asked anonymously, more than 70 percent said they had experienced concussion-like symptoms. Clearly, it's hard for trainers to diagnose what they don't know much about and the wounded won't describe.

George Keporos, 60, looks good, feels good, and he's in good health. He's a big dude, but he has run in 14 marathons. His joints are fine. He's happy, has three beautiful daughters, ages 21 to 28, and because he's recently divorced, he is dating again.

But none of us know about our heads.

After Northwestern, Keporos had a free-agent tryout with the Bears, and then he got into the car business with his father. George proved to be an outstanding salesman and businessman. He and his dad built up their stores until they had successful Lincoln-Mercury, Honda, Ford and Accura dealerships in Chicago. When they sold out at the perfect time -- 2007 -- George walked away with millions.

But what does the future hold? We all know the horror stories about former NFL players like Andre Waters, who shot himself at 44, and was found to have brain tissue resembling that of an 85-year-old man, with characteristics of early stage Alzheimer's.

But that's the NFL. Waters was a banger for a dozen years after college. Chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) is a long term for what boxers call dementia pugilistica, or plain old punch drunk. Yet it doesn't matter if you get the blows from a glove or a helmet, or, for that matter, fastballs or hockey checks. CTE can apparently strike anyone who has had repeated and violent brain trauma.

Our middle linebacker John Voorhees likes to talk about the punch drunk boxer who used to loiter in front of the Busy Bee hamburger joint in downtown Peoria, near where John went to high school. The boxer was harmless, but he talked crazy stuff to the Spaulding guys when they came by for hot dogs, and he just seemed like a funny aberration.

I talked to Freddie Roach in Los Angeles recently. He's superstar boxer Manny Pacquiao's trainer, and he has trained 25 world champions. But he was once a ferocious pro fighter himself. Though he was only 49 when we talked, Roach staggered about because of Parkinson's syndrome caused by boxing too long. His first symptoms appeared at age 27.

''They told me to retire, and I had five more fights and got knocked out in two of them,'' he says. ''I probably have dementia -- pugilistica dementia. I do respond to Dopamine two times a day. But I have tremors, I have drop-foot, I trip a lot.''

It's hard to get out on top, isn't it? I say to him.

He smiles ruefully. ''Only one of my fighters retired as a champion.''

But such stories might be irrelevant to us former college football players. We didn't play for years and years. We didn't exclusively hit each other in the heads.

Talk about good brains? There were 31 players on our freshman team in 1967, and 18 made it to our senior season. Among the 18, we have three post-graduate education degrees, a doctorate of veterinary science, four MBAs, three law degrees and two Ph.Ds. (I'm sorry for bringing the curve down with my lowly B.A.)

By almost any measure, George Keporos, in the class behind me that has two MDs among its ranks, has been a success in life. While we were talking, his youngest daughter, Kelly, a 6-1 recently graduated scholarship volleyball player at Northwestern, entered the apartment, dropped off a few things, hugged her pop, said, ''I love you,'' and left. Their affection was obvious. George's life is good.

But we're talking about maybes here. Kelly, after all, has two bad knees, and George says she'll likely need replacement surgery in her 30s. Sports competition carries its toll. I ask George if he has had any brain issues.

''My memory isn't what it used to be,'' he says. ''I have to jot things down to remember them. I leave things on the counter over there and forget to pick them up. My memory loss is getting worse. Is that because I'm getting old?''

I laugh. I looked for my reading glasses for five minutes the other day, and they were on my head. I put the orange-juice in the cereal cabinet. I'm no judge.

George and I look at an old photo of him sacking the Syracuse quarterback. We study the enlarged and framed newspaper page with photos of the Illinois 1967 All-State High School football team, with George there as well as Peoria's Voorhees, Elmhurst's Jack Derning and Moline's Randy Anderson, all of whom would be terrific players for Northwestern.

''You know, five years ago, I had amnesia,'' George says. ''From 9 to 5 of that day I have no memory.''

I look at him. I think about this. ''Then how do you know it happened?''

''I'd gone to work and the manager at the store said I was walking in circles,'' he says. ''He asked me if I was OK, and I kept saying, 'I don't know.' He drove me to the hospital, and at the hospital they asked me who the president was and I didn't know. I couldn't remember anything in the present. There's a name for what I had. But they couldn't find any reason for it, and it went away that day. I'm thinking, 'How about that hit in college?'''

A half hour after I leave, George calls my cell phone.

''I remembered it,'' he says. ''It's called transient global amnesia.''

Transient global amnesia, or TGA, has been described by neurologist Oliver Sacks as temporary ''amnesia for the amnesia,'' in that for a brief time one can't remember that one has no memory. It's unknown what causes it, but stress, migraines, head injuries, compromised blood flow to the brain, sudden immersion in cold water, even sexual intercourse are believed to be possible catalysts.

It strikes me in a silly way that during the time when George was trying to recall the name of the episode, he displayed amnesia to the third level. Not true. As the Mayo Clinic describes it, TGA ''is rare, seemingly harmless and unlikely to happen again. Episodes are usually short-lived, and afterward your memory is fine.''

George is fine. As we all are for now. Until, as Sacks puts it, the ''final amnesia'' comes calling.

Mike Adamle won't let anything stop him

2010-07-04T08:43:00.003-04:00

June 27, 2010
by Rick Telander
Chicago Sun-Times

'I was on the air in 1999 when I had my first seizure,'' says Mike Adamle, the Channel 5 sportscaster. I ask him what it felt like. ''One part of my brain was speaking, the other part was having a tidal wave,'' he says. ''There was deja vu. All kinds of flashing, loud ringing in my ears. Dizziness. My short-term memory was gone. There were tears in my eyes, thoughts of being a kid, thoughts of my grandfather. I was in the hospital for three days.''

Mike and I go way back, to the late summer of 1967, when we greeted each other for the first time on the sidewalk in front of Anderson Hall at Northwestern University. We were incoming freshman scholarship football players, and we were to college life as shrimp eggs are to the sea.

FOOTBALL'S DAMAGED HEROES

MIKE WEBSTER

Pittsburgh Steelers, 1974-88 Kansas City Chiefs, 1989-90

4-time Super Bowl champion

Hall of Fame inductee

Webster died at 50 in 2002. After retiring, he spent years living in cheap hotels and sleeping in the back of his truck. When he died, his youngest son -- then in high school -- was caring for him. Webster frequently shocked himself into unconsciousness with a Taser so he could sleep. Dr. Jonathan Himmelhoch, a psychiatry professor at the University of Pittsburgh, examined Webster six times. He concluded Webster had a ''traumatic or punch-drunk encephalopathy caused by multiple head blows.''

JUSTIN STRZELCZYK

Pittsburgh Steelers, 1990-98

Like Webster, Strzelczyk was a Steelers offensive lineman who suffered from brain injuries. He died at 36 after leading police on a 40-mile, high-speed chase that ended when his truck struck a tractor-trailer and exploded. Shortly before he died, he complained of depression and of hearing voices he called ''the evil ones,'' the New York Times reported. After his death, three doctors examined his brain and diagnosed him with chronic traumatic encephalopathy.

In this series, Rick Telander catches up with former teammates, who describe how football helped them in their lives, but also how injuries suffered 40 years ago haunt them today.

I was 18, almost 6-2, a mighty 188 pounds, with a crew cut and barely a beard. He was 17, maybe 5-9, wearing shorts, seemingly muscle-free, baby-faced with a big smile. My first thought upon looking at him was, ''This team is in trouble.'' I knew Cub Scouts who looked older than Adamle.

He was from Kent, Ohio, played linebacker and running back, and I knew immediately that my suspicions about Northwestern football were correct: The program only took plankton from the bottom of the aquarium after it had been drained and the plastic mermaid removed. That plainly was the case with myself -- an unwanted, weak-armed quarterback from Peoria, projected, like all suspect high school quarterbacks, to be a defensive back in college.

But this infant was to be our running back? I am not kidding when I say that, at that moment, a protective shield whirred down over my delicate self-esteem and I steeled myself for four years of having my ass handed to me on a platter.

Fast-forward to the fall of 1970, our senior season, when Adamle would lead the Wildcats to within 30 minutes of going undefeated in the Big Ten, our only conference defeat coming against Ohio State in Columbus after leading at the half. There was the Wisconsin game that season when Adamle carried the ball for a Big Ten-record 316 yards. There was the Silver Football Award he would win as the best offensive player in the Big Ten. He was our captain and our leader.

''I have epilepsy from lesions on the left hemisphere of my brain,'' he says now, tapping the upper left part of his head. ''Scar tissue up there. From football. Neurologist Richard Rovenor, from Northwestern Memorial, diagnosed it and probably saved my life. I went to his funeral recently, and I shoveled dirt on his casket. He was a guy who knew about football, a wonderful man. He helped me so much, and I miss him.''

What do you do for the epilepsy? I ask.

''I take medications,'' he said. ''And when they stop working, I take different ones.''

What if you feel a seizure coming on?

''I try to get in a safe place, tell people to help me so I don't bite or swallow my tongue, and I get in the fetal position,'' he says.

I ponder this. I am amazed, astounded. It's one thing to have epilepsy; it's another to have it and be on TV, to do everything Mike does.

''I looked at the tape of that first time,'' he says, ''and I don't think people knew. I have lost words on air occasionally, and viewers have sent letters to the news director, wondering if I'm drunk. Maybe some people feel sorry for me, but I want people to know about this.''

We look at each other. Why not? The clock is ticking for us all.

• •

The toughest, smartest and most talented people I played with at NU were defensive tackle Jack Rudnay, safety Eric Hutchinson, linebacker John Voorhees and Adamle. Adamle was the best.

He looked like a child back then -- though he's 60 now, he still looks 10 or more years younger than I do -- but he weighed a deceptive 198 pounds and could leg-press 680 pounds. One man couldn't tackle him. His thighs were massive (which I hadn't noticed), his balance uncanny. And his desire was off the charts.

In that record-setting Wisconsin game in Madison, our coach, Alex Agase, called Adamle's number eight consecutive times on one scoring drive. Not just his number, the same play. By the end, even the body-passing student drunks in Camp Randall knew Adamle was going off right tackle. When he scored on the last of the runs, he looked fresh. But he wasn't.

''I had bite marks, scratches all over me,'' he says.

And then there were the head blows. We all took them. But when you carry the ball 483 times in three seasons -- 48 times in one game (Minnesota, senior year) -- you up the ante dramatically.

''Saw stars?'' Adamle says. ''I can't count the times.''

We're eating dinner at P.J. Clarke's on Fairbanks, not far from the NBC studio. Adamle is off today, no newscast, and he's having a yolk-free spinach omelet and a glass of red wine. He's in terrific shape, having recently completed the Ironman in Hawaii -- a 2.4-mile swim, 112-mile bike ride and 26.2-mile run -- in a better time than he did at 50.

He's always up for physical challenges, always has been. He has jumped from airplanes, scuba-dived, gotten in the ring with a pro wrestler, run up the John Hancock Center stairs. At Northwestern, he ate 50 hard-boiled eggs in an hour, just like our hero, Cool Hand Luke.

I saw Mike one day at the 2000 Olympics in Sydney, Australia -- he was there doing TV work -- and the area around one eye was a hideous pastiche of green and purple. He'd done a back flip off the 10-meter board and landed on his face. He'd never tried such a dive before, never been on a 10-meter board. But he'd told his boss at NBC, Larry Wert, a former varsity diver at Wisconsin, that he had to do it.

''He'd come into my office, and we'd practice,'' Wert says. ''He'd fall backward, and I'd catch him. I told him, 'Stand there. Look out. Fall. Don't move your head.' Then I said, 'Do you really want to do this?'''

He did.

Wert remembers how it ended.

''I got a call from a worker in Sydney, who said, 'Your boy splattered,''' Wert says.

The irony is that Wert, never a football player, did a lot of head and spine trauma to himself in his seemingly gentler sport. He hit his head twice on diving platforms, suffering two concussions and multiple stitches. Entering the water again and again at almost 40 mph eventually led to him having to undergo cervical fusion because of ruined vertebrae. He has to medicate himself because of the constant neck pain, and he says there are days ''when I'm speaking to a crowd or to our team, and I wonder if I'm up to it, feeling ready.''

But he wouldn't give up his athletic past for anything.

''Not a chance,'' Wert almost shouts. ''Competing brought me everything.''

So he understands the drive of the hyper-competitive Adamle, saying: ''I'm aware of his condition, and I'm supportive of him. There's always risk in live television for all performers. If things happen, we'll discuss them.''

• •

In a victory against Illinois in our junior year, Adamle got knocked out at the end of a long run. He played seven seasons in the NFL, once gaining 100 yards for the Bears. While with the New York Jets, he was on the ''suicide'' bomb squad with fellow wild man Lou Piccone, an undersized speedster who sometimes wore a ''Saturday Night Live'' conehead off the field. Together, they were wedge-busters.

''Lou was R-1 and I was L-1,'' Adamle says. ''Before games, we painted red suns on our chests, drank sake and yelled, 'Banzai!' One time we agreed to dive over the wedge simultaneously. We launched ourselves and landed on the receiver. Our quarterback, Joe Namath, said it was the best freaking play he'd ever seen.''

When did the brain trauma occur for Adamle? Who can say? Maybe it happened in increments. Maybe it happened as I and other Northwestern defensive players watched from the sidelines, cheering him on.

On a recent broadcast on Channel 5, Adamle does a fine job reporting the day's sports news, finishing a bland non- statement from Bulls general manager Gar Forman with the editorialism, ''Blah, blah-blah, blah-blah, blah-BLAH!'' It's appropriate and hilarious.

''Mike is a bona fide celebrity athlete, and when he's on, he's great,'' Wert says.

But there is the head issue. Was playing football worth it?

''Yes,'' says Adamle, who began in pre-med before switching his major to broadcasting.

Why?

''Because we were all together,'' he says. ''Because of the camaraderie. Because of the time in our lives. Because we punched holes in our tickets we could never punch again.''

We're finished eating, and the waiter takes the dishes away. Adamle looks down.

''I'm scared,'' he says. ''I have two girls, and I don't want them to see me with a drool cup. I combat this by doing the Ironman, by hustling up the Hancock, having people say, 'How did you do that?' My mom had Alzheimer's, and she didn't know who I was at the end. My dad had it, too. And I said, 'That's gonna be me.' I'm a perfect candidate.''

My old pal looks at me. He has a wry smile on his young face.

''Yes, I'm scared,'' he says.

18-game NFL season idea pains Pro Bowler Wilber Marshall

2010-07-02T10:36:00.001-04:00

FloridaToday.com
July 1, 2010
by Pete Kerasotis

Once upon a time, the NFL played a 10-game regular season. Then 12 games. Then 14. Then 16.

And now?

NFL commissioner Roger Goodell is dropping some not-so-subtle hints about expanding the regular season to 18 games.

Wilber Marshall thinks he knows why.

"Money," he said.

Shocking, huh?

Marshall is the former Astronaut High standout who later had a great career for the Florida Gators that earned him induction into the College Football Hall of Fame. Then he assembled 12 NFL seasons that resulted in two Super Bowl championships and three Pro Bowl appearances.

He knows a little bit about football and what makes that oblong ball go round.

Yeah, obviously it's money.

But what particularly troubles Marshall and many other current and former NFL players is a perceived disregard the league has for the toll football takes on the body.

Marshall knows all too well about that.

For years now, doctors have told him he's going to need knee and hip replacement surgery -- on both knees and hips. He is 48.

It can take him a half-hour or longer to get out of bed. When he was recently in Titusville visiting family (he lives in Virginia) even the humidity adversely affected him. So do other weather changes. He's resisted prescription pain medication, but sometimes he has no other choice.

"I take meds just to walk," he said. "I don't like taking them. I know what they do to the liver. I saw what happened to Walter."

Walter was his friend, Walter Payton, the legendary Hall of Fame running back who died at 44 from autoimmune liver disease and bile duct cancer. Ever since losing his friend, Marshall has championed various organ donor programs.

Meanwhile, he feels the aftermath of his NFL career every day, and as he hears more and more reports about the long-term effects of head injuries, it gives him pause, especially because Marshall recently lost his father to Alzheimer's disease.

"So far, my head's good," he said. "It's just the rest of my body that doesn't work."

Chris Henry, it appears, wasn't as fortunate.

The news this week is that Henry, the former Cincinnati Bengals wide receiver who died in a traffic accident last year, had chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), a form of degenerative brain damage caused by multiple head hits.

According to an ESPN The Magazine story, researchers discovered CTE in 50 deceased former athletes, many of whom were former NFL and college football players.

Henry was 26 when he died on Dec. 17, a day after he jumped or fell off a moving pickup truck that his fiancée and mother of his children was driving after they had a spat. Now, Henry's family is wondering whether his erratic behavior -- one witness said he threatened to kill himself -- was more a byproduct of brain damage rather than the passion of the moment.

Wilber Marshall wonders, too.

"Love makes you do crazy things," he said, "but maybe there was also something wrong from all the hits to the head."

One thing isn't disputable.

Football is a brutal sport that routinely destroys the bodies of those who play it.

Earlier this year, one of Marshall's contemporaries, Hall of Fame linebacker Harry Carson, revealed that he suffered 12 to 18 concussions in his NFL career, and that today, at 56, his mental health is an ongoing concern.

The list of early deaths and debilitating, degenerative brain damage among former NFL players grows longer almost by the day.

Always well-spoken and eloquent, Carson these days champions the cause of retired NFL players. He also says that if he had to do it over again, he wouldn't have played football.

Against this backdrop, the league wants to expand the regular season to 18 games, while eliminating two preseason games, which already are fairly meaningless.

"They should keep it at 16 games and eliminate the two preseason games anyway," Marshall said. "But you know how it is. It's all about the NFL making money, and not about the players' health."

Last April, the NFL said it is gifting $1 million to the Center for the Study of Traumatic Encephalopathy at Boston University. That might sound like a lot of money. But for a billion-dollar industry like the NFL, it's a token. It's sort of like beer companies telling people to drink responsibly at the end of commercials where adults act in the most irresponsible way when there is a brew to be imbibed.

I'm sure the NFL is concerned about head injuries. Why wouldn't they be? It's just that many of its past and present players believe the concern pales in comparison to its most overriding interest.

Money.

Young player had brain damage more often seen in NFL veterans

2010-07-02T10:34:00.001-04:00

CNN

By Madison Park, CNN

July 2, 2010 8:28 a.m. EDT

(CNN) -- Young, athletic and troubled -- NFL player Chris Henry might have been a football cliché.

After being arrested four times, suspended by the league three times and released once by the Cincinnati Bengals, the wide receiver appeared to be on a personal and professional comeback.

But all that ended in December 2009. Henry died after falling from the bed of a moving pickup during a fight with his fiancée. His death was considered a tragic and bizarre end to a life plagued by behavioral problems.

This week, findings from Henry's brain examination reverberated through the sports world, raising questions about head injuries and safety in high-contact sports.

Doctors found evidence of brain damage, called chronic traumatic encephalopathy, that has been observed in retired players who've had many concussions. Unlike those older players, Henry was 26 when he died.

Chris Henry's brain sample had brown discolorations, a tau protein buildup, inflammation and white matter changes.

In healthy brain tissue, virtually no protein tangles, which show up as brown spots, are visible.

CTE is also known as dementia pugilistica, because career boxers who've suffered repeated blows to the head have been known to develop the syndrome. Sudden stops and collisions can cause the brain to slosh inside the skull.

Its effects are mainly neurobehavioral. These symptoms include poor decision-making, behavioral problems, failure at personal and business relationships, use of drugs and alcohol, depression and suicide.

"The effect on the brain appears to be damages to the emotional circuitry of the brain," said Dr. Julian Bailes, chairman of neurosurgery at West Virginia University.

"We think Chris exhibited some of the characteristics of the neurobehavioral syndrome of CTE," he said at a news conference Monday. "We don't know if there is a cause and effect."

The neurologists at the Brain Injury Research Institute at West Virginia University did not draw any association between Henry's actions and the disease.

"His case highlights the fact there is documented damage in someone young and actively playing," said Bailes, a former doctor for the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Bengals coach: Henry 'beacon of hope' before death

The syndrome is believed to be caused by large accumulations of tau proteins in the brain that kill cells in the regions responsible for mood, emotion and executive functioning. Tau proteins are also found in the brains of patients with Alzheimer's disease and dementia.

The findings regarding Henry's brain raised unsettling questions: Could CTE contribute to misbehavior of football players? If Henry, a seemingly healthy athlete in his mid-20s, had signs of CTE, could other young athletes have this syndrome, too?

Dr. Jon Weingart, professor of neurological surgery and oncology at Johns Hopkins University, said extrapolating from one case, like Henry's, would be a "big leap."

"That would be misleading," he said. "There's not enough data. ... To think that this is something brewing in many players -- there's no data to support that statement."

Weingart said the relationship between multiple traumas and head hits and CTE is not a proven cause and effect. At this point, it's a correlation.

Sports Illustrated: Concussions and football: Is the game too dangerous for our kids?

In 2009, the Center for the Study of Traumatic Encephalopathy at the Boston University School of Medicine reported that an 18-year-old multisport athlete who suffered multiple concussions also had CTE, a finding that a neuropathologist described as "shocking."

MRIs and CAT scans are unable to detect CTE. Detecting the syndrome requires brain samples, which cannot be given until a person is dead.

The samples are colored with special microscopic stains. In Henry's brain, doctors found a tau protein accumulation, inflammatory changes and white matter changes that were significantly abnormal.

The fibers in the brain had brown discoloration and showed significant damage.

In previous findings of former NFL players, the brown tangles flecked throughout the brain tissue resembled what might be found in the brain of an 80-year-old with dementia.

Dead athletes' brains show damage from concussions

Henry could've had a genetic predisposition for the type of brain injury, because a majority of the brains with CTE contained the gene called the apolipoprotein E3 allele.

"We may be seeing a genetic trend that Chris is in the 70 percent of those diagnosed with CTE, who have a special genetic sign," said Bailes, the West Virginia University neurosurgery chairman. "Perhaps that may be a clue as to who's at risk for this to develop."

Genetic factors could make some people less able to tolerate subtle trauma to their brains. For example, some high school athletes get a concussion and struggle afterward, while others who experience the same degree of head bump recover without a hitch.

"There's some variability of how someone is able to handle and recover from trauma to the brain," Weingart said.

Henry's case has "sparked a lot of social debate and reflection and was scientifically valuable," Bailes said.

"We want to continue to study. We don't have all the answers. We're also looking, as soon as we can, to find treatment and prevention," he said.

NFL medical heads and Goodell convene on brain injuries

The NFL has recently pledged to step up its efforts on head injuries and named new co-chairs and members to its medical committee. The league has also changed guidelines prohibiting a player suffering a concussion to practice or play.

Chris Henry data sound football alarm

2010-06-29T21:51:00.000-04:00

Is it possible that football is as dangerous to the brain as boxing? The results say yes

ESPN.com
by Johnette Howard
June 29, 2010

Dr. Bennet Omalu is a forensic neuropathologist by training. He grew up in Nigeria and admits that for years after arriving in the United States, he knew nothing about football. He used to be the assistant medical examiner for the city of Pittsburgh. And what Omalu first saw in 2002 while performing an autopsy on retired Steelers lineman Mike Webster, what he saw after he put some slides of Webster's brain under a microscope for a routine examination, eventually led to Omalu's being discredited by NFL officials for some controversial conclusions that the league wouldn't publicly embrace for another five years.

What if football is as dangerous to your brain as boxing?

Would that change the way you regard the long-term risks of the game, or the way you parent your kids?

Before Omalu studied the brains of Webster and a handful of other NFL players whose lives had met sudden ends, the NFL never really looked at itself that way. Omalu was the first person to contend those players had been afflicted with pugilistic dementia or "punch-drunk syndrome" -- a layman's term for a disease called chronic traumatic encephalopathy. CTE's only known cause is repeated blows to the head. Omalu says all of the first nine NFL players he examined posthumously showed the sort of brain damage that doctors usually only see in older patients suffering from Alzheimer's or dementia.

On Monday, Omalu and a colleague, Dr. Julian Bailes, found themselves back in the news as they presented the findings on their latest subject, Cincinnati Bengals wide receiver Chris Henry, who died at the age of 26 in December. Until Henry, no active NFL player had been diagnosed with CTE. And none with the diagnosis had been as young.

The diagnosis, for an athlete who played just five NFL seasons, was a surprise to Omalu and Bailes. The idea that Henry was playing with brain damage that can only be diagnosed using brain tissue samples (which can't be culled until a person dies) ramped up concerns over how quickly athletes start to suffer from CTE -- and why they do.

Researchers say concussions aren't the only danger. Even the accumulation of lesser blows to the head -- the sort of contact that's intrinsic in football -- could be enough to eventually cause serious long-term brain damage. The threshold could be far lower than anyone previously thought.

Danger to the Brain

Could football be as dangerous to the brain as boxing is? ESPN.com examines the findings that the late Chris Henry had degenerative brain damage caused by multiple hits to the head.

That's a confounding dilemma for people trying to make organized football safe. If that's possible.

"I am still a persona non grata to the NFL," Omalu said in a phone interview Monday after he and Bailes, his co-director at the Brain Injury Research Institute at West Virginia University, presented the Henry findings at a campus news conference.

"I wouldn't expect what we have found to be accepted happily. The first person to diagnose pugilistic dementia in boxers was also a forensic pathologist and that was in 1928. Here I was 80 years later, finding the same thing in football."

Still, you rarely find anyone screaming that football should be abolished, and few consider it as dangerous as boxing.

It's time that changed.

"I think people are in still denial," Omalu said, "because the public loves football so much."

Maybe the perception gap also exists because boxers are so explicitly up front about their intent to separate opponents from their senses. Fight fans aren't riven with guilt over the violence in the sport because they cling to the consoling idea that boxers make "informed" decisions about the risks, the same as cigarette smokers or Indy car drivers or skydivers do.

Football fans used to say the same thing.

But the Henry findings change all that. Football just became a bit harder to love unconditionally on Monday. The brain trauma caused by a lot of sports -- not just football -- just became a lot harder to rate for risks.

That's why Bailes, a former team physician for the Pittsburgh Steelers and current team doctor for the WVU football team, confessed that he was initially "sad" about Henry's diagnosis and struggled to find something positive because the red flags were so "profound."

Bailes noted Monday that as a wide receiver, Henry was usually far away from the play-after-play collisions in the trenches. He wasn't a kamikaze hitter.

Bailes said Henry had never even been diagnosed with a concussion during his college career at WVU or in his five NFL seasons with Cincinnati.

And, Bailes added, the usual tools that team doctors use, such as MRIs and CT scans, don't show the presence of CTE, anyway.

So again, how does an athlete assess the danger he or she faces?

More than ever, it's clear no one really knows.

Bailes says the Henry discovery may force us to rethink everything.

No wonder the Bengals' Andrew Whitworth, a teammate of Henry's last year, told the Cincinnati Enquirer on Monday, "It's kind of fearful. It's shocking that a guy you played with and didn't really play that long could be diagnosed [with CTE].""It's very emotional to hear -- it rattles me," the Seattle Seahawks' Sean Morey, a special-teams player, told The New York Times. "You have to ask how many are playing the game today that have this and don't even know about it."

Like many of the other former football players found to have CTE after their deaths, Henry had behavioral problems that Omalu and Bailes strongly suspect were at least partly a result of the disease, which Bailes said is linked to depression, substance abuse, erratic behavior and even suicide.

Webster, the former Steelers center, was sleeping in train stations and sometimes at odds with his family just before he died. Lineman Terry Long, the second NFL player Omalu studied, committed suicide by drinking antifreeze in 2005. Former Philadelphia Eagles safety Andre Waters shot himself after inconsolably telling a family member he needed to get help. Henry was arrested five times early in his NFL career for incidents ranging from assault to marijuana possession to drunken driving. He died December after either jumping or falling out of the back of a moving pickup truck being driven by his fiancée in Charlotte, N.C., as they were having an argument.

"It was a big shock when I first learned [Chris was playing football with brain damage]," Henry's mother, Carolyn Henry Glaspy, told reporters on Monday after watching Omalu and Bailes present their findings about her son.

And now?

Glaspy sighed and said, "Some things make so much sense."

WVU doctors: Chris Henry had chronic brain injury

2010-06-28T21:51:00.000-04:00

Associated Press
June 28, 2010

By VICKI SMITH (AP) – 7 hours ago

MORGANTOWN, W.Va. — Cincinnati Bengals receiver Chris Henry suffered from a chronic brain injury that may have influenced his mental state and behavior before he died last winter, West Virginia University researchers said Monday.

The doctors had done a microscopic tissue analysis of Henry's brain that showed he suffered from chronic traumatic encephalopathy.

Neurosurgeon Julian Bailes and California medical examiner Bennet Omalu, co-directors of the Brain Injury Research Institute at WVU, announced their findings alongside Henry's mother, Carolyn Henry Glaspy, who called it a "big shock" because she knew nothing about her 26-year-old son's underlying condition or the disease.

Henry died in December, a day after he came out of the back of a pickup truck his fiancee was driving near their home in Charlotte, N.C. It's unclear whether Henry jumped or fell. Toxicology tests found no alcohol in his system, and an autopsy concluded he died of numerous head injuries, including a fractured skull and brain hemorrhaging.

But Bailes, team doctor for the Mountaineers and a former Pittsburgh Steelers physician, said it's easy to distinguish those acute traumatic injuries from the underlying condition he and Omalu found when staining tiny slices of Henry's brain.

Bailes and fellow researchers believe chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE, is caused by multiple head impacts, regardless of whether those blows result in a concussion diagnosis. A number of studies, including one commissioned by the NFL, have found that retired professional football players may have a higher rate than normal of Alzheimer's disease and other memory problems.

What's interesting, Bailes said, is that Henry was only 26, and neither NFL nor WVU records show he was diagnosed with a concussion during his playing career.

But it doesn't take a collision with another player for brain trauma to occur.

"The brain floats freely in your skull," Omalu said. "If you're moving very quickly and suddenly stop, the brain bounces."

And over time, with repetition, that causes big problems.

CTE carries specific neurobehavioral symptoms, Bailes said — typically, failure at personal and business relationships, use of drugs and alcohol, depression and suicide.

"Chris Henry did not have that entire spectrum and we don't know if there's a cause and effect here," Bailes said. "It certainly raises the question and raises our curiosity. We're just here to report our findings. That may be for others to decipher."

Henry's personal struggles were well documented.

Although he was a vital part of the Bengals' offense as a rookie, he ended that season with an arrest for marijuana possession. After a playoff loss to Pittsburgh, he was arrested on a gun charge in Florida.

Henry was suspended for half a season in 2007 as the league cracked down on personal conduct.

When he was arrested a fifth time, a judge called Henry "a one-man crime wave" and the Bengals released him.

But Henry got a second chance and played 12 games in the 2008 season.

Teammates said they'd noticed a change his demeanor, and at the start of the 2009 season, he described himself as "blessed" and said he was turning his life around.

Glaspy gave Bailes permission to examine her son's brain in detail.

"I was a little scared," she said. "It was something new to me. I'm still trying to educate myself as to what it means. Some of it makes sense with some of the behavioral patterns in Chris — just like mood swings and the headaches.

"Hopefully I can share whatever they share with me with other parents and help the NFL deal with the matter of being hit in the head and concussions and to educate ourselves as mothers and fathers when we send our kids out there on the field."

Omalu first came across CTE, a condition often seen in boxers, after studying the brain of Pittsburgh Steelers Hall of Fame lineman Mike Webster. Webster died in 2002 of a heart attack at age 50. He had suffered brain damage that left him unable to work following his career.

Bailes said he and Omalu have now analyzed the brains of 27 modern athletes, and the majority showed evidence of CTE. But it's found in only a small number of players, he said.

"I think football is a great sport, and we want to make it safer," Bailes said, "but we have to continue to move forward with changes made recently and take the head impacts out of the sport as much as possible."

Former Bengal Henry Found to Have Had Brain Damage

2010-06-28T21:47:00.000-04:00

June 28, 2010

Former Bengal Henry Found to Have Had Brain Damage

By ALAN SCHWARZ

Chris Henry, the Cincinnati Bengals receiver who died during a domestic dispute last December, has been identified by experts as the first player to have died with trauma-induced brain damage while still active in the N.F.L.

Dr. Julian Bailes and Dr. Bennet Omalu of the Brain Injury Research Institute at West Virginia University announced on Monday that Henry, 26, had developed chronic traumatic encephalopathy, the progressive brain disease whose recent discovery in some retired N.F.L. players has raised questions of football’s long-term safety risks.

The 22nd professional football player to be given a diagnosis of C.T.E., Henry is the first to have died with the disease while active after 2007, when prior C.T.E. findings prompted the N.F.L. to begin strengthening rules regarding concussion management. The fact that he developed the condition by his mid-20s — the youngest previous C.T.E. case was the lineman Justin Strzelczyk, 36, who had been retired from the Pittsburgh Steelers for five years before his death in 2004 — raises questions of how many current N.F.L. players might have the condition without knowing it.

“As we got the results, my emotion was sad — it’s so profound,” said Bailes, the chairman of the department of neurosurgery at West Virginia and a former team physician for the Steelers. “I was surprised in a way because of his age and because he was not known as a concussion sufferer or a big hitter. Is there some lower threshold when you become at risk for this disease? I’m struggling to see if something can come out positive out of this.”

In a statement, a co-chairman of the league’s head, neck and spine medical committee, Dr. Hunt Batjer, said: “Our committee has and will continue to address all issues relative to head injuries in current players.”

A message for the union spokesman George Atallah was not returned.

Caused exclusively by brain trauma, C.T.E. cannot be diagnosed in a living person; only microscopic examinations of brain tissue can identify the protein deposits and other abnormalities that mark the disease. So active players who might react to the Henry finding by seeking a test before continuing their careers must make do with unknowns.

“It’s very emotional to hear — it rattles me,” said Sean Morey, a special-teams player now with the Seattle Seahawks, who is a co-chairman of the union’s brain-injury committee. “The fact that this has been found that guys played against last year, an active player, I think it’s sobering. You have to ask yourself how many are playing the game today that have this and don’t even know about it.”

Like many of the other players found to have had C.T.E. after their deaths, Henry had behavioral problems in his final years that might have been at least partly a result of the disease, which is linked to depression, poor decision-making and substance abuse.

He was arrested five times in a 28-month stretch for incidents involving assault, driving under the influence of alcohol and marijuana possession. The league suspended him several times for violating its personal-conduct policy.

Henry caught 12 passes for 236 yards in the Bengals’ first eight games last season before he broke his arm and was put on injured reserve.

Henry died in Charlotte, N.C., on Dec. 17 after falling out or jumping out of the back of a pickup truck driven by his fiancée, Loleini Tonga. The head injuries that killed Henry were not related to the C.T.E. finding because the proteins and other changes that mark C.T.E. develop only over time, Bailes said.

Bailes said that he had not found evidence in news reports that Henry had sustained any diagnosed concussions during his N.F.L. career, and that he would soon make a request for related information from the Bengals. Bailes said he did know that Henry had not reported any concussions during his two seasons at West Virginia, because Bailes also serves as a Mountaineers team physician and had access to those records.

Bailes said he planned to speak with Henry’s family members to learn if he had sustained any notable hits or head injuries at Belle Chasse High School just outside New Orleans.

“I don’t want to imply that this is an N.F.L.-only phenomenon,” said Bailes, who wondered if problems are set up “while the brain is young and vulnerable, and it sustains an injury.”

He added: “Players spend 17 years banging heads in the pros on every play and you think it’s exposure based. Now with Chris Henry being so young, we have to rethink that.”

Near the end of last season, the N.F.L. strengthened several rules regarding concussion management, including the requirement that players with brain injuries not return to the same game or practice, and that they be cleared by independent experts, rather than team doctors. The three leaders of the league’s concussion committee resigned and were replaced by two neurosurgeons who vowed to chart a new course for research.

The N.F.L. is working with the union and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention on an information brochure on concussions that is worded far more strongly than the one given to the players since 2007.

“We have to educate the players,” Morey said. “The players have to have the ability to have informed consent.”

Congress invokes antitrust

2008-06-24T09:29:00.000-04:00

Charlotte Observer
Tue, Jun. 24, 2008

By Charles Chandler

Rep. Linda Sanchez (D-Calif.), who chairs the House subcommittee probing the concerns of NFL retirees, says she isn't satisfied the league and union have done enough to assist former players and that she would “absolutely” support threatening removal of the league's antitrust exemption if necessary to spur action.

“That is sort of the big issue the NFL and NFLPA clearly care most about,” Sanchez told the Observer in a telephone interview. “If they want this exemption to continue, from my perspective, we want to see them address these concerns that their disabled and retired players have.”

Members of the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives have criticized the league and union's treatment of retired players, but Sanchez is the first Congressperson to publicly link action on retiree issues to the league's antitrust exemption.

The antitrust exemption is contained in two pieces of federal legislation passed during the 1960s. One allows the NFL to negotiate national television contracts for all of its teams and to regionalize broadcasts. The other protects the league from antitrust lawsuits related to the NFL-American Football League merger of 1970.

Sanchez also said she might ask Commissioner Roger Goodell and NFLPA executive director Gene Upshaw to testify before the House Judiciary Committee's Subcommittee on Commercial and Administrative Law, which she chairs.

She said she was disappointed neither Goodell nor Upshaw appeared at the subcommittee's hearing last June on retired players' concerns. Both, however, testified in September at a Senate Commerce Committee hearing on the subject.

NFL spokesperson Greg Aiello said the league has “made it clear that (helping retired players) is an important ongoing priority that we will continue to address.”

Aiello e-mailed the Observer a list of 20 improvements the league and union jointly have made in response to the needs of retired players.

The changes include establishing a plan to simplify the disability claims process and helping former players get joint replacements, expanded health screenings, prescription drug discounts and greater benefits for those suffering from dementia.

Upshaw didn't reply to the Observer's request for his reaction to Sanchez's comments.

Sanchez said Congress is prepared to introduce legislation if necessary to address such issues as the makeup of the committee that approves or denies disability claims; selection of doctors who can determine disability; and developing a system to eliminate “doctor shopping” for a favorable ruling by the league or union.

“We're trying to see if the NFL and NFLPA can address (the) problems,” she said. “If they're interested in doing it, we want to see if they actually take action. If they don't, Congress may revisit that and step in and try to level the playing field for these players.

“It's clear to me that these players put their hearts into the game. They make the league and the owners and, yes, even Gene Upshaw, a lot of money. But when they are injured or retire, they have such a difficulty in accessing benefits and such difficulty in the private sector purchasing them.

“It really is something the NFL and NFLPA should be ashamed of.”

Federal papers reveal shredding

2008-06-24T09:27:00.000-04:00

Charlotte Observer
Tue, Jun. 24, 2008

By Charles Chandler

The NFL Players Association spent more than $12,000 on document shredding last fiscal year, according to recent federal disclosures.

The NFLPA is required to make annual financial filings with the U.S. Department of Labor and on May28 turned in its report for the period covering March 1, 2007 to Feb.29, 2008. It showed that the players' union paid $12,461 for document shredding to Office Shredders, an Elkridge, Md., company.

The NFLPA moved its Washington offices four-tenths of a mile, from 2021 L Street NW to 1133 20th Street NW, last year. According to industry experts, it is not unusual for a company to purge documents as part of a move.

The union is under intense scrutiny for its treatment of retired players, especially those with financial problems and physical disabilities.

The U.S. Senate and House held hearings last year about the plight of retired players amid their claims that the NFL's disability system is corrupt. Congressional oversight of the issue is ongoing.

The NFLPA and its for-profit subsidiary, Players Inc., also are the subject of a legal battle with a group of retired players. A lawsuit filed by Bernie Parrish, formerly of the Cleveland Browns, and others sought extensive document discovery from the union.

NFLPA executive Gene Upshaw reacted sharply to the Observer's e-mailed questions about the document shredding.

“Your knowingly malicious attempt to link the routine practice of protecting the confidentiality of financial and other proprietary business records (a practice that every prudent business follows) with ongoing litigation and Congressional oversight hearings is libelous,” Upshaw wrote in an e-mail Friday afternoon.

About an hour after receiving his response, the Observer asked Upshaw via e-mail if the NFLPA kept a record of what documents were shredded and, if so, if the union would provide a copy of the record to the newspaper.

Upshaw did not respond to that e-mail, or to e-mail and voice mail messages left Saturday and Monday at his office.

The owner of Office Shredders, John Kane, declined to speak to the Observer and, through an office assistant, referred all questions to the NFLPA.

Office Shredders is a division of a company, also owned by Kane, that was paid $59,897 by the NFLPA for relocation services last year, according to the federal filing.

Representatives from two document shredding companies, one in Charlotte and the other in Washington, told the Observer that pricing methods for paper destruction vary, but a commonly used rate for large jobs is 10 cents per pound.

At that rate, the amount paid by the NFLPA to Office Shredders would equal 124,610 pounds, more than 62 tons.

The Observer calculated how much that would be if all the paper were standard 8.5-by-11-inch copy paper and discovered the stack would have been 4.8 times the height of the Bank of America tower, Charlotte's tallest building at 875 feet.

David Wright, owner and general manager of Proshred in Charlotte, said most shredding companies have about two or three jobs a year the size of the one done for the NFLPA.

“In our experience, it tends to be a company that has no ongoing purging calendar for their record retention process,” Wright said.

The union's annual reports for fiscal 2006 and 2007, filed after the Labor Department began requiring unions to make detailed accounting of receipts and disbursements, did not list any expenses for paper shredding.

Carolina Panthers NFLPA player representative Jason Kyle said he wasn't aware of the document shredding but said it didn't strike him as unusual.

“I don't know what we spent cleaning out the toilets, either,” said Kyle, who was elected by teammates to serve as their primary representative to the players' union.

Rep. Linda Sanchez (D-Calif.) said the NFLPA surrendered most of the documents requested by the House subcommittee – which she chairs – that held an oversight hearing last summer regarding the NFL disability system.

“I'm not really in a position to say that I can really make anything of the amount of money they spent on shredding documents, or what documents they might have been shredding,” Sanchez said. “I don't really have a sense as to why, or what they might have been trying to get rid of.

“All I can really say about the matter (of) the NFLPA (is) I have not really been impressed with their past lack of advocacy for retired players.”

Parrish declined to comment on the document shredding and referred questions to his attorney, Ron Katz of Palo Alto, Calif.

Katz said he has received numerous discovery documents from the NFLPA in the Parrish case and that the union has resisted providing certain papers. For example, he said the union resisted providing documents related to Upshaw's income and that the judge in the case sided with the union.

“Obviously, you don't know what they haven't produced,” Katz said. “We have no way of knowing. I can't say whether they have or haven't (provided all required documents in the case). They've told me they have, and we have no independent reason to believe they haven't.

“It strikes me that it would be normal to get rid of documents when you move. We have to go by the integrity of their lawyers, and I have no reason to question the integrity of their lawyers.

“They are officers of the court, just like me, and (document discovery) is done on the honor system.”

Katz said the case is under a judge's protective order, requested by the NFLPA. As a result, he said, certain documents are for attorneys' eyes only and he cannot show them to Parrish or other retired players involved in the case.

Matt Stover's letter to members of the NFL Players Association

2008-04-08T15:51:00.002-04:00

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

Executive committee and reps,

After the conference call on Wednesday, April 4th, I believe that the NFLPA is ready to begin a national search process to find a new Executive Director. As you are completely aware of our election process, Gene's contractual situation, and our looming battles against the owners in the coming years, I feel that the Board must begin to prepare for a change in leadership immediately. I believe we have the proper environment with our teammates and leadership within the board to execute the process of this selection. To be "Open and Transparent" is critical for the body to back our possible selection, as well as our outside critics.

I want to make this clear: I have no personal agenda as I would hope everyone else would as well. I only want what is best for the Union and our teammates and my intentions are to establish a healthy leadership for years to come. I believe that whoever the candidate would end up being has the opportunity to gain valuable insight and experience to lead future generations of players.

With that being said, I would suggest to the Executive Committee to:

1. Form a sub-committee (3-5 members) to lead the process. The members should have the time and resources to fully commit to this all-important process.

2. Use Board Designated Funds to hire an outside consultant, Executive Head Hunter or Search Firm to aid in the collection of candidates from both the outside and within the NFL world.

3. Form a list of 8-10 candidates by no later than the start of training camp.

4. Use any means necessary (personal meetings in home cities or another city or teleconference) to interview candidates, with completion by the end of the 2008 football season.

5. Form a final list of 3 candidates by Jan. 1, 2009 that will be interviewed by the entire Executive Board from Jan. 1-Feb. 15 (6 weeks to interview 3 candidates again, by any means).

6. The entire Executive Committee select 1 candidate to be recommended to the Board of Reps. at the 2009 March NFLPA meeting.

As I recommend this process, I fully realize this is just 1 man. However, I was on that conference call and I am not the only Rep. who listened and felt that it is time for a change. As I make this suggestion, I will only hope that every one of us will put any personal agenda aside and remember who each of us represent. Both the old and young players in our locker rooms have voted us in because they trust our judgment. This is about the future of our organization. Not now ... not 1 or 2 years from now, but 5, 10, 15 years from now. Thanks.

-- Matt Stover

Stover e-mail shows plan to find successor to NFLPA boss Upshaw

2008-04-08T15:51:00.001-04:00

Tuesday, April 8, 2008

By Chris Mortensen
ESPN.com

An effort to oust Gene Upshaw as the NFL Players Association Executive Director became evident Monday, when veteran Baltimore Ravens kicker Matt Stover e-mailed a plan to fellow player representatives to have a new union boss in place by March 2009.

In his e-mail, a copy of which has been obtained by ESPN, Stover revealed a conference call among player reps on Friday in which he said, "I was on that conference call and I am not the only rep who listened and felt that it is time for a change."

Upshaw said Tuesday morning that he was aware of Stover's e-mail but read it for the first time when ESPN forwarded him a copy. Upshaw's contract runs through 2010, but he said Tuesday he told player representatives at their annual meeting in Maui in March that with a looming labor confrontation with NFL owners, "I would never leave until this deal is done."

Tuesday, Upshaw said, "Obviously, there's a group that feels we need to have a change now." As for Stover's e-mail, Upshaw said Tuesday: "Matt Stover has no clue. Whoever is pulling his chain is doing a disservice to the union. I could understand the idea that they need to get rid of me if I wasn't doing a good job but, shoot, the owners are mad because they think I've done too good of a job."

Upshaw confirmed that hints of a movement ultimately to change the union leadership were in play at the March meetings in Maui. An effort by one coalition of players to get Philadelphia Eagles safety Brian Dawkins elected as the new NFL Players Association president fell short when Tennessee Titans center Kevin Mawae was voted as its new active-players leader, according to player sources. Mawae is believed to be a supporter of Upshaw.

Dawkins had the backing of former NFLPA president Troy Vincent, who was no longer eligible for the position because he was not an active player. Several player sources have said Vincent is regarded as a political force within the ranks of the players and desires to replace Upshaw one day.

There has been no specific reason cited for the latest move to oust Upshaw, and Vincent has yet to be reached for comment.

Stover also could not be reached for immediate comment.

Chris Mortensen covers the NFL for ESPN.

1997 Baltimore Sun article on John Unitas

2008-04-08T13:31:00.001-04:00

www.baltimoresun.com/sports/football/bal-unitas-steadman97-0911,0,4524528.story
baltimoresun.com

The Golden Arm is on the mend

Unitas: The legendary quarterback has fabulous memories, but also pain to remind him of his 18-year NFL career.

By John Steadman
Baltimore Sun columnist

October 5, 1997

It was a passive morning at Passing Fancy, the flat expanse of farmland where John Unitas, wife Sandra and their three children live in comfort and a laid-back, kick-off-your-shoes kind of rural leisure.

Their impeccable white-fenced sanctuary is located in the Long Green Valley, affording a grand vista of the Maryland countryside, away from the public glare but, at the same time, not so private that it's a self-imposed isolation.

Sons Joey and Chad are away at college; daughter Paige is a student at St. Paul's School For Girls. And the most famous player in the history of the Baltimore Colts and the consummate quarterback, the best the NFL has ever known, is recovering from surgery to an arm that was once so lethal it shot holes in otherwise airtight defenses, created an effusion of points and caused scoreboards to short-circuit.

Unitas was a talent unto himself. Physically strong, mentally alert, quietly defiant in the face of all challenges and beyond intimidation. Respected by the men on the other side of the scrimmage line, as well as revered by teammates. A guard named Art Spinney, who played to his left, referred to him as the "meal ticket." To halfback Lenny Moore he was simply "Johnny U." At the moment, Unitas is a Colt in harness, wearing a protective case around his right arm, from wrist to mid-biceps, and facing at least three months of therapy with the hope that some percentage of normal strength will eventually return to a limb that progressively went limp.

The complex surgery, performed by Dr. Andrew Eglseder at the University of Maryland Hospital Medical Systems, took five hours and involved repairing and relocating ligaments, removing bone fragments and moving the ulnar nerve to its proper location.

The injury that triggered the belated trauma was suffered in 1968 in the final game of the preseason, when Unitas leaned away to avoid an all-out rush from the Dallas Cowboys and, in trying to get under the pressure to deliver a pass with a sidearm delivery, had the flexor and pronator muscles torn from their track by the intensity of the hit.

It was the season in which he would come back to throw only 32 passes, and his replacement, Earl Morrall, became the NFL's Most Valuable Player. And there was the journey to Super Bowl III -- a long afternoon for the Colts as they lost to the New York Jets, 16-7, in one of the most momentous upsets in NFL history.

Now, almost three decades later, the residual results of the damage caused his right arm to lose strength. Near paralysis.

"I couldn't hold a cup of coffee or pick up a pen to sign my name," he explained. "I wasn't able to grip a golf club, carry a suitcase or even lift a knife or fork."

Now, after the surgical phase, all he can do is proceed with rehabilitation, under the direction of his longtime friend and physical therapist, Bill Neill, at Kernan Hospital, and await improvement.

He has two artificial knees from earlier operations, which he says "work fine," and a plastic replacement for a middle-finger knuckle that he first shattered when he hit a player's helmet while following through on a pass. An artificial joint had been inserted, but while splitting wood for the fireplace the pressure of swinging the ax caused the replacement knuckle to break.

Then, don't forget the quadruple bypass heart surgery in 1993 that became a life-or-death situation when he was in the hospital for what was expected to be a slightly more than routine knee operation.

Career worth the pain

The pertinent question for Unitas was first asked by his son, John Jr., who is in charge of Unitas Management Corp.

"Young Johnny wanted to know if I thought all these problems were worth playing 18 years of pro football," said his father. "My reaction is, I wonder where I would be without playing football. I guess I'd be teaching school. That's what I went to the University of Louisville for, to get a degree in teaching.

"That would have been a useful way to make a living. With my arm that went bad, the X-rays never showed the extent of the injury or the aftermath of the cortisone shots I took at the time.

"Dr. Eglseder mentioned, after what he found, that he didn't know how I was able to play the last four or five seasons. The ligaments just reattached themselves where they weren't supposed to be, and I guess I made the best of the situation. Maybe that was nature taking over. A lot of NFL players are having problems in later life. Nothing new about that."

Unitas, looking out on his 19 acres (symbolic of the jersey number he wore), seemed more reflective and contemplative than usual. Outside, beyond the house, three dogs romped, two goats charged about their playpen and, at the far end of the property, a herd of white-faced Herefords huddled under shade trees. And the surrounding flower gardens were in fall bloom.

Unitas, meanwhile, was enjoying talking about how it was to play hard and then go out and drink a cold beer with a teammate or a rival from the other side of the scrimmage line.

He was nudged into discussing the infamous mistake the Pittsburgh Steelers made in 1955 when, after drafting him, a hometown product, in the ninth round, they never gave him a chance to play in a single exhibition. Then, just like that, he was cut loose.

"I remember I was in all the scrimmages and went against the first-string defense in practices all the time, but coach Walt Kiesling wouldn't let me play in a game.

"We were playing an exhibition in Miami against the Detroit Lions. I was on the bench and Kiesling looked right at me. I figured he was finally going to use me. I reached down for my helmet and then he said, 'Marchibroda.' We had Ted Marchibroda as a quarterback and also Jimmy Finks and Vic Eaton. Ted had only been back with the Steelers from National Guard duty about two days and he was using him.

"We returned to Pittsburgh, had the weekend off and then I rode back to training camp in Olean, N.Y., with Finks and Lynn Chandnois. En route, we picked up Ted Marchibroda in Oil City [Pa.]. On Monday morning, assistant coach Nick Skorich, a real nice man, told me to bring my playbook and come see the head coach, Kiesling. I knew what that meant.

"He said he was going to have to let me go because he couldn't keep four quarterbacks. I said to him, 'Coach, I'm not upset you're getting rid of me, but you never even gave me [an] opportunity; that's what I feel is wrong.'

"I got $ 10 bus fare from Olean to Pittsburgh. I kept the money and hitchhiked home with another kid who got cut. He went off to the seminary and became a priest."

Unitas signed to play for a semipro team near Pittsburgh, the Bloomfield Rams, for $ 6 a game and took a job with a pile-driving crew. He didn't mind the work and needed the money because he had a wife, Dorothy, and a son, plus another child was expected soon.

He was making $ 11 an hour and working as the "monkey man" with the outfit, meaning that every morning at the job site he climbed 125 feet up the rig to grease the equipment. "We were driving piles, creating 50 tons of pressure every time we drove the corrugated pipe into the ground," he recalled.

That's what Unitas was doing when the Colts signed him for a non-guaranteed contract of $ 6,000 (no bonus) and, on the rebound, he went on to become the greatest quarterback the NFL has known.

Personally, he's blunt, unselfish, comes to the point in a hurry, is trusting and, yet, at the same time, suspicious, particularly of strangers -- the reason being that he has too often been betrayed by business partners and, at this time in his life, at age 64, believes in keeping his guard up to ward off con artists and pitch men.

Now he's an official with Matco Electronics Group in Timonium and is either in the office or on the road for sales presentations.

A storied career

With the Colts, he was the only player to be a part of three championship teams -- in 1958, 1959 and the Super Bowl in 1970. He set 22 records, was the league MVP three times, played in 10 Pro Bowls and was named to the all-time NFL team.

Playing against Unitas for the Green Bay Packers, tackle Henry Jordan was asked by a teammate, in short-yardage situations, what kind of play he might expect. "I don't know," mumbled a weary and wary Jordan, "because for five years I've been trying to figure him out and he always does what you don't expect."

Unitas believes being a defensive player in high school and college helped him formulate a comprehensive concept of the game.

"I hate to see specialization," he said. "I know playing defense made me a better quarterback because I had a chance to realize how defensive players think in certain situations and then as a play-caller could go at them accordingly. With the Colts, a smart player named Lloyd Colteryahn told me how I could work a lot of plays off a slant pass.

"Get that going and then do other things off it. I studied game films and looked for tendencies. I also kept checking myself so I didn't get into the same play-calling sequence. Gee, the slant pass was good for us. Throwing to Raymond Berry or Lenny Moore on the slant set up other things we could do. Can you imagine any coach showing Raymond or Lenny how to run a slant?

"I paid attention to players in the huddle and what they said they could do. If you listened to L. G. Dupre, he was open every play. But I did throw to him. Now with Jimmy Orr, another fine player, when he would say, 'Senor, the time is now and I can beat him on a z-out pattern.' When Orr said that, you knew he could get it done."

As for contemporary quarterbacks, Unitas regards Dan Marino highly and says that in 1983 he suggested to Ernie Accorsi, then general manager of the Colts, that he draft Marino. In the same respected category he includes John Elway, Joe Montana, Troy Aikman and Steve Young.

The most money Unitas ever earned from the Colts was $125,000 a year. Sold to the San Diego Chargers, they immediately doubled his contract to $250,000, but that's hardly comparable to the millions of dollars players make today.

Unitas has great memories, a reputation to match and a body that has almost as many replacement parts as you can find in a repair shop.

From his perspective, there is no reason for lamentation, but he has paid an enormous personal price for throwing touchdown passes. Yet he doesn't complain. That was never the Unitas way. He just took the best shot they had to give, got up, looked the defense in the eye and found a way to put the ball in the end zone.

Increased Heart Risk Seen for Retired NFL Players

2008-04-01T15:38:00.001-04:00

washingtonpost.com

Sunday, March 30, 2008; 12:00 AM

SUNDAY, March 30 (HealthDay News) -- Retired National Football League players have an increased risk of heart problems, say researchers at the Mayo Clinic in Arizona.

They added that screening for cardiovascular conditions among elite-level football players should begin in high school and continue throughout the lives of college and professional players.

The Mayo team examined the cardiovascular health of 233 retired NFL players, aged 35 to 65. They did this by measuring the internal diameter of the carotid (neck) artery and by assessing levels of plaque deposits that can block blood flow.

The researchers found that 82 percent of the retired players under age 50 had abnormal narrowing and blockages in their arteries greater than the 75th percentile of the general population. That means these retired players may be at increased risk for high blood pressure, heart attack or stroke.

These retired players hadn't been diagnosed with heart disease and they showed no signs of cardiovascular trouble, such as chest pain during exertion. Because they had no diagnosis or symptoms, the players weren't aware they were at serious risk of heart attack or stroke, or that they needed to make lifestyle changes or start medical therapy to improve their cardiovascular health.

The high incidence of plaque in the players' blood vessels suggests the increased narrowing of arteries is not solely due to increased body-mass index, and further research is needed to explain this, the researchers said.

The study, which was to be presented Sunday at the American College of Cardiology annual meeting in Chicago, is one of the largest studies to take a close look at cardiovascular health in retired NFL athletes. The findings add to growing evidence of poor heart health among these athletes and suggest that young competitive players may benefit from regular cardiovascular screening, the researchers said.

"What we hope to emphasize with our findings is that all NFL players, retired or not, need to undergo cardiovascular health evaluation because they may have changes in heart and vessel conditions that we can treat so they don't experience problems later in life," lead researcher and cardiologist Dr. Robert Hurst said in a prepared
statement.

"Cardiovascular screening is readily available and needs to become a routine part of serious football players' health care, beginning at the high school level for those who engaged in a highly competitive and rigorous level of training and play," added Dr. Bijoy Khandheria, chairman of cardiovascular diseases at Mayo Clinic.

"Effective therapies are available to help players avoid serious cardiovascular problems later in life, but players need to take that first step of seeking out screening programs to identify those at risk," Khandheria said in a prepared statement.

Previous studies have found that:

Retired NFL players are more prone to obesity and obstructive sleep apnea than the general population.Retired NFL players have an increased rate of metabolic syndrome, a condition increasingly linked with lack of activity and being overweight that can lead to type 2 diabetes.Linemen have a higher death rate than people in the general
population.

More information

The American Heart Association outlines common cardiovascular diseases.

SOURCE: Mayo Clinic, news release, March 30, 2008

Goodell: League's CBA not working

2008-04-01T15:34:00.002-04:00

www.washingtontimes.com

April 1, 2008

By David Elfin - PALM BEACH, Fla. -- NFL commissioner Roger Goodell is concerned the economics of the league's collective bargaining agreement with its players association, extended just two years ago, aren't working.

"The thing we are starting to realize is that [the CBA] has swung considerably toward the players," Goodell said yesterday at the opening of the NFL's annual spring meeting. "In the economy we have now, that can really [have] a significant impact on clubs. We have rising costs. The economics of operating a team are extremely thin
margins. When you shrink the margins, at some point in time the agreement becomes untenable. We have to be very cautious here, and the players need to recognize those risks and the tremendous costs."

NFLPA executive director Gene Upshaw wasn't surprised by Goodell's comments.

"The players have already recognized the risk," Upshaw told The Washington Times. "We are the only union in sports that helps the owners finance and build stadiums [through the NFL's G3 program] ... because we were concerned about teams leaving larger markets for smaller markets. We will have to wait and see what 'thin' means. It sure does not sound like 'loses.' The owners cannot live with this CBA. The players will not accept less than we are already getting."

When the CBA was extended in 2006 after several delays and plenty of arm-twisting by Goodell's predecessor, Paul Tagliabue, the salary cap soared from $85 million to $102 million. At $116 million this year for each of the 32 teams, that's a league-wide jump of almost $1 billion in just three years.

Large market teams like the Washington Redskins, who set an all-time NFL attendance record in 2007, the Dallas Cowboys and the New England Patriots, can handle that increase. It's not so easy for the Jacksonville Jaguars, the Cincinnati Bengals or the Buffalo Bills.

"[We want to] keep a strong economic foundation so all teams have the ability to compete," Goodell said.

If enough owners join Buffalo's Ralph Wilson and Pat Bowlen of the Denver Broncos in expressing so much concern about the renegotiated CBA that they vote to opt out of the deal in November, Upshaw has threatened to decertify the union. Those moves would trigger the termination of the cap in 2010 and the expiration of the CBA for 2011,
likely giving the sport its first labor stoppage since 1987.

"It's difficult for clubs to stay up with what our owners have to pay our players," Goodell said. "The salary cap is so high that some owners aren't concerned [whether there is a cap or not]."

However, Goodell said that he's not worried that some owners, in the absence of a cap, could emulate baseball's George Steinbrenner in signing every free agent because "you can't buy championships."

Notes -- The New England Patriots' three Super Bowl championships during the past seven seasons are being questioned because of accusations of stealing opponents' signals. Goodell and Patriots owner Robert Kraft both expressed frustration yesterday over the slowness of the investigation into former videographer Matt Walsh's claims.

"We won 18 games, and a day or two before the Super Bowl the damaging allegations came out," Kraft said in his first public comments since then. "Seven weeks later, there has been no confirmation. We live in a society where people can make any kind of an [accusation]. It has to be substantiated. I know how hard our people worked to accomplish what they did this year."

Goodell, who punished Patriots coach Bill Belichick for stealing the New York Jets' signals in the 2007 opener by taking away New England's first-round pick in this month's draft, remains confident that's as far as "Spygate" goes.

"We're making progress I think," Goodell said. "We have met with over 50 people, and [Walsh] is the only one [with] conditions [to talk]. He has implied through the media that he may have information I have not been aware of. If he does, I would be anxious to see it." ...

The owners approved the sale of 50 percent of the Miami Dolphins from Wayne Huizenga to Steve Ross.

Upshaw: No need for an NFLPA heir

2008-04-01T15:33:00.000-04:00

By LIZ MULLEN
Sports Business Journal Staff writer
Published March 31, 2008 : Page 01

NFL Players Association Executive Director Gene Upshaw, facing the prospect of mandatory retirement during his biggest labor battle in decades, said last week that he had no plans to name a No. 2 executive and would not leave the union until the right successor was found.

Under a union rule put into effect years ago by Upshaw himself, NFLPA employees must retire at age 65. Upshaw will turn 65 in August 2010, which stands to be the last year of the current labor agreement.

The collective-bargaining agreement runs until 2012, but owners have the option to opt out of the deal two years earlier. It is widely expected they will exercise that right later this year.

That could mean that the union would be looking for a new leader at the same time that players are facing a lockout. Upshaw has said he believes the NFL is preparing to lock players out in 2011.

“I will not leave the PA until I am satisfied we have the right leader,” Upshaw wrote last week in an e-mail from Hawaii, where he was vacationing after the NFLPA annual meeting there earlier this month.

“We have a rule of [a mandatory retirement age of] 65 in the NFLPA, but as executive director I can stay until a replacement is found,” he said.

Upshaw did not respond to inquiries on whether he would overturn the rule since he was the one who put it in place. He also did not answer whether he would leave the union at a time when it was likely to be facing a labor war.

According to the annual report that the NFLPA files with the U.S. Department of Labor, Upshaw’s employment contract expires Dec. 31, 2010. Upshaw, a Hall of Fame offensive guard for the Oakland Raiders, will turn 65 on Aug. 15, 2010, according to several biographies and other information on the Internet.

In recent years, there has been growing speculation that Troy Vincent, the NFLPA’s player president for the last four years, would succeed Upshaw as executive director. NFL players ultimately vote on who will be hired for that post.

Speculation about Vincent increased after Yahoo! Sports ran a story March 19 under the headline, “Vincent to become union’s No. 2” and said Vincent expected to be named assistant executive director of the NFLPA at the union’s annual meeting, according to two unnamed sources.

But that did not occur at the union meeting. Upshaw wrote, “Troy is not No. 2 and he has not been hired. … The speculation that Troy will succeed me is just that. It will not be my decision to make but I will have plenty of input.”

Vincent, who is no longer an active player and therefore could not seek another term as player president, said he had no agreement with Upshaw to be hired at the NFLPA, although he allowed that potentially could happen in the future. Upshaw “obviously does all the hiring as the executive director. I have no expectations,” Vincent said last week.

Upshaw, meanwhile, indicated he would not be hiring Vincent or anyone else as the No. 2 in command at the NFLPA.

“There is only a No. 1 and there will not be a No. 2,” Upshaw wrote. “Number 2 is always trying to become No.1 and never wants to wait. They can always do it better, they are like backup [quarterbacks]. There is a reason they are backups.”

Foxworth tired of Upshaw bashing

2008-02-24T10:14:00.004-05:00

Sunday, February 24, 2008

By Bill Williamson
The Denver Post

Domonique Foxworth admits he isn't completely satisfied with the leadership of the NFL Players Association.

However, the Broncos defensive back is tired of hearing current and former players verbally attack the union's executive director, Gene Upshaw. In the past year, many people, most notably Mike Ditka and Kyle Turley, have taken Upshaw to task for his handling of retired and disabled players. Foxworth understands where the frustration is coming from, but he doesn't believe publicly bashing Upshaw is worthwhile.

"It's frustrating to me to keep reading this stuff," said Foxworth, who was the Broncos' assistant union rep last year and is poised to take over for Rod Smith, who likely will retire, this year.

"Why should all these guys air their dirty laundry? If they are unhappy they should join the cause and help make things better instead of just talking about it. . . . I've had my differences with Gene and the union but I have worked to solve them instead of going public. Instead of keep saying 'Gene stinks, Gene stinks, Gene stinks.' Do something about it."

Foxworth said he plans to stay active in the union for the rest of his career and aspires to someday be union president.

"That's how you make things better," Foxworth said. "I have nothing against guys like Ditka and Turley, but just talking about things doesn't do any of us any good."

Comment by Bruce Laird, posted to Denver Post in response to Domonique Foxworth's remarks:

* Retired NFL players With all due respect to Domonique Foxworth, many of those who are involved in retired players' efforts and/or who have been directly affected by the union's indifference, even hostility, toward retired players have, in fact, worked diligently within the system. For example, I've been involved in the National Football League PLayers' Association for decades, as a player rep with the Baltimore Colts and as an officer of the NFLPA's Baltimore chapter of retired players. Bernie Parrish was one of the founders of the NFLPA. And John Mackey was the first president of the NFLPA following the merger of the NFL and AFL. Mackey filed suit against the NFL to gain free agency for active players, thus setting in motion events that have resulted in the lucrative contracts and benefits afforded modern players.

Yet Mackey, who was diagnosed at age 59 with frontotemporal dementia, received no assistance from the union when he could no longer work and required full-time care. When my teammates and I saw what was happening to Mackey, we had to act. We organized a fundraiser that raised more than $25,000 to immediately assist the Mackey family in caring for John and we lobbied the NFLPA to take steps to assist Mackey and other players who suffer from football-related ailments.

Our efforts -- coupled with an appeal by John Mackey's wife Sylvia to then-NFL Commissioner Paul Tagliabue -- resulted in the 88 Plan to assist those affected with dementia and Alzheimer's. And our efforts grew to become Fourth & Goal, a national 501(c)(3) organization that advocates for improved pension and disability benefits and representation for retired players.

I'd welcome a dialog with Mr. Foxworth. I can be reached at baltimorecoltsalumni@msn.com or fourth.and.goal@hotmail.com. For additional information on Fourth & Goal, go to www.fourthandgoalunites.com.

Bruce Laird
President, Fourth & Goal
Baltimore Colts, 1972-1981
San Diego Chargers, 1982-1983
Bruce Laird
Joined: Sep 24
Points: 211 Posted by Bruce Laird (aka BadBoy40)
at 6:58 AM on Sunday Feb 24 Report Abuse | Report Good Comment

Playing football for the love of the game

2008-02-23T20:02:00.001-05:00

Thursday, Feb. 21, 2008

Ex-NFL player with Glenarden roots talks with youth looking to score big
by Natalie McGill | Staff Writer
Montgomery County, Md., Gazette

Throwing a football well before the existence of multi-million dollar team signings, commercial endorsements for footwear and even the Super Bowl, ex-NFL player John Cash was in it for the love of the game. And on Friday, Cash, who works part-time at the Glenarden Community Center, shared that love and his professional sports experiences with youth.

Cash’s visit was one of several planned for the joint ‘‘Do You Have What It Takes?” program at the Glenarden and Glenn Dale community centers that brings out African-American athletes from Prince George’s County to talk to youth about the sacrifices to becoming a professional athlete.

Glenarden Community Center Director Michael Kurland and Glenn Dale Community Center’s assistant director Tammy Massey began the program last year in conjunction with Black History Month. Out of the 11 young men who attended Friday’s program, seven raised their hands when asked if they wanted to play sports professionally.

‘‘We thought kids needed a little more direction as far as looking up to someone who has been there and done that instead of trying to do it on their own,” Kurland said.

Cash, 73, who played football at Allen University in Columbia, S.C., signed with the Cleveland Browns in 1960 and played for a year before signing with the Denver Broncos. He experienced highs and lows as an African-American NFL player, from flying first class to games, to not being allowed to stay in the same hotel with his white teammates on a visit to Los Angeles.

Cash played with the Broncos until 1964 when he found out he had calcium deposits in his ankle and was urged by his doctor to stop playing football. Following the NFL, Cash played with the Roanoke Buckskins, a ‘‘farm team” for the Washington Redskins to pick new recruits, from 1965 to 1970.

‘‘Had I played one more year I would’ve gotten pension,” Cash said. ‘‘But as I said, I’m blessed. If I had a chance to do it all over again I would do it.”

After playing with the Buckskins, Cash, his wife, Gloria Cash, and their two sons, John Cash Jr. and Bruce Cash, moved from Washington, D.C., to a single-family home on Brightseat Road in Glenarden, where they lived for 33 years. While working for the United States Postal Service in Bethesda, Cash started part time at the Glenarden Community Center in 1972, where he has remained ever since and now answers the center’s phones. Cash now lives in Woodmore near Mitchellville.

During his time at Glenarden Community Center, Cash coached the center’s basketball team and led them to 12 community center championships. He also coached the Glenarden Boys and Girls Club’s football team and continues to give the club copies of plays he used to run when he was coach.

‘‘It’s really cool having an ex-NFL star at our facility,” Kurland said. ‘‘It kind of brings some prestige to Glenarden.”

Cash brought in his old football, black cleats and football helmet, a brown paint-chipped helmet with a metal face guard and sparse padding around the cheek bone area. Massey wanted youth to see what equipment players like Cash had to use compared to the heavily padded gear today’s NFL players wear. Cash also brought in 50 cent game programs from his days with the Browns and Broncos and records of his contracts listing his starting salary.

Jairus Harper, 15, of Lanham said he was surprised at how little money Cash made after he told his peers he made $6,000 a year as his starting salary.

‘‘I learned a lot from him and things were a lot different back then,” Harper said.

Massey said the program gives those children and teens who aspire to play in the NBA or NFL a reality check about what hard work is necessary to go pro but she also wants them to know that it is possible if they work hard.

‘‘I wanted them to see the history of what they’re trying to get into,” Massey said. ‘‘I want them to understand it took men like Mr. Cash to pave the way.”

Cash said his advice to youth desiring a career in professional sports is to not only practice their craft but get an education first, adding he would not have attended school if he was unable to get a football scholarship to Allen University that paid him $20 a month.

‘‘Manners will take you where money won’t,” Cash said. ‘‘You have to humble yourself. Apply yourself.”

Lawrence Stokes, 14, of Greenbelt said Cash’s speech made him realize education comes before anything, but he would still like to play for the NBA in the future and has no particular preference of where he ends up.

‘‘Whatever team picks me,” Stokes said. ‘‘It doesn’t matter.”

E-mail Natalie McGill at nmcgill@gazette.net.

Wives of handicapped and fallen NFL Alumni fight the good fight

2008-02-23T19:47:00.001-05:00

OLD SCHOOL
February 23, 2008
These are their stories as told by SportsBusiness Journal's John Genzale
By Bruce Laird
(laird@profootball24x7.com )

Foreward by Tony Lombardi

Recently I was asked by former Baltimore Colts Pro Bowl Safety Bruce Laird to reprint with permission these compelling stories as told by SportsBusiness Journal's Founding Editor John Genzale. They are the stories of wives of afflicted former NFL players -- what they've endured and what they've been left to deal with while struggling with their husbands' handicap or worse, their death.

Their trials and tribulations both individually and collectively represent the bitter aftermath of living the dream of competing in the NFL. The broken bodies of their loved ones are mere collateral damage of the league's ascension to glory. Tragically these families and others like them are left nearly incapable of supporting themselves or sustaining even a modest lifestyle. In many ways they've been abandoned by the league, a league that they helped to build -- one with a gaudy amount of wealth yet seemingly bankrupt of compassion.

Hopefully things will change but clearly not soon enough for Mrs. Mackey, Heywood and Shy. Here are their stories...

By John Genzale
Founding Editor
SportsBusiness Journal

Sylvia’s Mackey story:

Sylvia Mackey raised hell about football-related dementia on CNN and ESPN after her husband, Hall of Fame tight end John Mackey, started to lose his God-given faculties. He became forgetful, often angry and had started causing public scenes. “He wasn’t the John I knew and loved for so many years.”

The Mackey case has been well documented not only on television but in countless print articles.

Sylvia, an articulate actress, model and flight attendant, a member of United Airlines’ flight-attendant union and a member of the Screen Actor’s Guild for 34 years, expected the league or the union to help. “John still pays his union dues every year.” But the union was largely unresponsive and help was slow until other former players came to the aid of the Mackeys by putting pressure on the union.

“It wasn’t only my husband,” she said. “There were lots of guys with some form of dementia from football, all facing medical catastrophe. Finances, even lives were going down the drain.”

Sylvia confronted Paul Tagliabue before he retired. It’s an over-simplification to say that the problem was instantly recognized and solved, but according to Syliva, “that got the ball rolling.” Tagliabue passed along his concerns to Roger Goodell and early in 2007, Plan 88, the number John wore when playing for the Baltimore Colts, was approved by the league and written into the labor agreement with the NFLPA.

It provides for $50,000 a year for in-home care including five-day a week nursing care. That’s what the Mackey’s receive now. “It’s a wonderful benefit. When John has to go to a nursing home, sometime in the future, the plan will pay up to $88,000 of that care.”

Syliva said, “He has a nurse now. We keep John active. We’re getting ready to go out to dinner right now with our daughter [Laura Mackey]. The love of a family really helps.”

Sylvia Mackey regrets that it took so long to get people to act. But she’s philosophical. “Whenever people have to give up money, they’re going to be real slow.”

She said credits the two commissioners but said the NFLPA was “unresponsive until John former teammates got involved.

“Bruce Laird and his Fourth and Goal organization went to bat for us with the union. Bruce was wonderful. He fought our battle and got other retired players to act on John’s behalf. Still took the union six months to call.”

But she doesn’t want place blame. “I’m concerned because I know there are more people out there who need help. Progress needs to be made. There are lots of battles and they won’t all be won at once.

“But I don’t blame anyone. I don’t bash anyone. I have a good relationship with Gene [Upshaw] and I love what Bruce Laird did for us.”

Suzie Heywood’s story

Suzie Heywood, an NFL widow, lost her ranch and then her husband. She’s “living on a small income, but when that runs out, it’s just gone.” Here’s her story:

“I started to realize there was something wrong with Ralph in 2004. My husband was always strong. He was a Marine Colonel, the only NFL player to fight in three wars, World War II, Korea and Vietnam.

“He was playing football for USC and enlisted right after Pearl Harbor. He was just that kind of guy. He fought for his country.

He played in the NFL for four years after the war. He was one of the highest paid linemen. He made $6,000 a year.

He got hit a lot. When you’re young you’re invincible. It doesn’t matter if you get hit on the head. You’re a gladiator. Ralph had a bunch of concussions. I don’t know how many and Ralph couldn’t remember. In those days the equipment wasn’t very good. But guys back then played through the concussions. They had to. There was always someone younger and cheaper.

My husband was a warrior. He paid his dues. He didn’t make a lot of money. He had a football pension, but that wasn’t much. We got by mostly on his service pension.

We had a ranch in Texas. Ralph was a real cowboy, strong and handsome … an American hero. But in 2004 I started to notice that he became forgetful, got frustrated when he couldn’t handle little things. That was just not Ralph.

His dementia didn’t take a true course. Sometime he was just fine. I have a master’s degree in education and I know people. And I understand football. I’m the biggest fan you ever saw.

It started with depression, and then Ralph just quit living life. He became withdrawn, confused. It just wasn’t Ralph.

We saw a doctor and Ralph was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and needed help. As the medical bills started piling up, we started looking for help. At one time we were excited by Plan 88; we felt for a time that someone was coming to the rescue. But we were told it doesn’t apply to us. [More likely, it hadn’t been fully established in 2006 when Suzie made her calls.]

Then we heard there was other help related to the death of Pat Tillman. But nobody told us how to get help. I called the NFL and the Players Association. But there was no information forthcoming from the union. I can’t understand why they wouldn’t return my calls. When I did corner someone, the fellow in charge of retired players, they said there was no help for me. When you need them you’re a has-been and no one’s going to help.

“I swore that we weren’t going to go broke. That just wasn’t going to happen to us. But it did. We had to shut down the ranch. I moved Ralph into one of our horse trailers to cut down on the bills. Then I sold the ranch and our possessions … I sold everything so that I could afford the care my husband needed.

“Nobody would help us and Ralph just faded away.

“Ralph died in April of 2007 of complications from Alzheimer’s.

“After he died I got letter from the union hitting us up for union dues. Can you believe that? Ralph paid $100 a year. I wrote back and asked for burial funds. I’d pay the $100 dollars. But they told me a wife can’t be a member, and that I should have asked sooner for burial funds. They couldn’t help me because I didn’t apply in time.

“I blame the union. I know that they knew about him. I had called and written so many times.

“My least favorite person in the world is Gene Upshaw and $7 million salary. They take money and give no representation to the old guys. How can Gene Upshaw sleep at night?

“Bruce Laird helped pay for my husband's burial. I think he took it out of his own pocket.

Bruce is fabulous and his group [Fourth and Goal] is fantastic. I was alone sobbing and crying by myself and the next thing I knew they were helping to bury him.”

[Crying unrepentantly, Suzie said] “My husband helped create change. He helped build the NFL. The damned NFL made their money off the back of those old guys. Ralph stood up for black players. He was a gentleman. And he died with dignity.”

“It’s too late for me, but there are others. The things that have happened to us don’t have to happen to others. The union can make it better. There are plenty of other who need help. This is a proud group of men. They are not asking for handouts. They’re trying to take care of their families. And many of these guys are dying."

Syndi Shy’s story

Syndi Shy is the widow of Don Shy, a seven-year NFL veteran, who died of brain tumors at 61 in October 2006. Here’s Syndi’s story:

“Don was a wonderful, wonderful African-American man.

“We had a restaurant in San Diego called Papa Shy’s BBQ. When Don became ill, we had to sell and move back to Ohio. Don was so sick. Both his parents had Alzheimer’s and Don had football-related dementia. I watched him dwindle to nothing.

We went to the union. I wrote and called and asked for help. But the PA wouldn’t help. They said we didn’t sign the right insurance forms. No one cared about us. No one helped us. Not the Chicago Bears. They were rude and turned their backs on us. Not the NFL or the union. They said there’s nothing they could do.

“I blame them both. They treated us like crap, but I can’t understand the union not supporting their players and their wives. I was an American Airlines flight attendant for 30 years and the head of the union form 1994 to 98. I was fired after we went on strike.

“Those bastards at the PA wouldn’t help. How can they be in business with management? That’s not a union. Gene Upshaw is not a union man.

“They didn’t tell me about Plan 88. They only said they wanted Don to come to New York to sign forms. But he was too sick.

On the day he died, he said he wanted to go upstairs to rest, but he fell on the floor. My son Brandon and I got him in bed and he said, ‘The NFL killed me.’

“I couldn’t pay for his funeral. The union said they wouldn’t pay because I didn’t ask on time ‘so we’re not paying the bill.’ Can you believe that?

We had used up all our money on Don’s medical bills and were behind on the mortgage. After Don died, Brandon and I didn’t have money. We were forced out on the street. We lived in a 1982 Plymouth Voyager from November through February. Then Mike Ditka heard about our story. Bryant Gumbel had done a story. Mike called Bruce Laird and between them they paid my house payment for two months. They are my guardian angels. They paid my car bill and my utilities.

“Bruce put pressure of the union and shamed them. When Gene called he asked, ’Why did you call Bruce Laird?’ I told him because Fourth & Goal were the only ones who would help us.

Then Gene paid for the next four months rent. He said ‘We don’t usually do this for wives, but let’s do it.’ If not for Bruce, I’d still be on the streets.

Now were back on our feet. I have a catering little business. I do corporate stuff and I plan weddings. Brandon [22] opened a restaurant two weeks ago called ‘Eat my Ribs.’ He says his father is looking down on us and taking care of us.

“We’re a real success story. But this is about my son. He doesn’t even know that I have ovarian cancer. [Crying loudly.] It’s important for me to know that my son is OK. I don’t know if I have six months to live … I just want my son taken care of. I miss Don so much.”

http://www.ravens24x7.com/column_view.php?cid=47&id=2258&view=archive

Helping former players not among union’s top priorities

2008-02-04T14:46:00.000-05:00

Sports Business Journal
Opinion
Published February 04, 2008

The NFL Players Association has a better relationship with NFL management than with its former players.

That’s not merely a fact, it’s an indictment.

And if it isn’t universally true, it’s true in enough cases, in enough broken lives and tears, to explain why some former players, the guys who built the multibillion-dollar league, formed another union of sorts just to deal with the NFLPA.

Let me lay my cards on the table. I’ve never respected the NFLPA because in a world of greed, it is a worthy competitor. I still hold to the forgotten values that a union should represent the laborers who provide the means of production. But the NFLPA is not an organization solely dedicated to representing the interests of its working men, but rather another commercially driven institution that uses the sweat of its labor force to make money. I have nothing against making money; I just believe that unions shouldn’t do it.

Leigh Steinberg once told me, when I questioned the multimillion-dollar marketing deals that Players Inc., the union’s marketing arm, has with management, that I was a dinosaur. He said the new standard for labor is one of cooperation and business partnership that produces revenue for both sides.

There’s no doubt that I’m a dinosaur. I cling to the belief that the natural conflict between management and labor produces, through strife, debate and compromise, a working relationship that provides for both sides.

When labor is in bed with management, someone gets screwed.

The last time I wrote about this, I characterized the dues-paying members as the victims, those guys clinging to jobs in a profession where serious injury is a prevalent occupational hazard, where career expectancy is less than two years, where guaranteed contracts are nonexistent and where everyone is expendable. It’s exactly the kind of profession that needs a strong union. How can a grievance by an expendable be contended when the union is in the back rooms doing deals with management?

It’s not that I went looking for another opportunity to kick the unholy alliance that produces favorable fixed labor costs for management and sweet salaries for labor bosses. I’ve said my piece and if the players are too powerless to get fair treatment, there’s consolation in knowing that they are well-paid during their short careers.

So I haven’t crusaded against the NFLPA’s adoration of management’s money-making machinery. I even ignored Sylvia Mackey’s struggles for her husband, John, a Pro Football Hall of Fame tight end whose dementia can be traced directly to the head injuries he sustained while playing for the Baltimore Colts. It was a well-publicized example that exposes the indifference of management and labor toward its retired players.

As the season progressed toward its climax and the league prepared to celebrate another Super Bowl, I came across an organization whose goals have little connection to the gaudy display of wealth and celebrity. Bruce Laird put together a group of retired players under the banner of Fourth & Goal to fight for the guys who built the league.

“We had to form a union just to deal with the union,” Laird said.

It was his introduction to the struggles of retired players and to two NFL widows, who faced destitution with dignity, that compelled me to take up the issue.
The NFL’s Plan 88, named for John Mackey’s
Colts number, provides treatment for former
players.

Sylvia Mackey’s anger was assuaged with the NFL’s Plan 88 (her husband’s number), which was written into the labor agreement. It provides treatment for former players suffering from Alzheimer’s or dementia. “I think they are slow taking care of players, but that’s to be expected. I have no more bitterness.”

But anger is not as easily set aside by Suzie Heywood, whose Marine colonel husband Ralph was the only NFL player to fight in three wars. He died last April. Through tears, she told me how his dementia-related medical bills forced her to sell their Texas ranch. “I moved Ralph into one of our horse trailers to cut down on the bills. I sold everything so that I could afford the care my husband needed. Nobody would help us and Ralph just faded away.”

Syndi and Don Shy lost their San Diego restaurant as dementia-related medical bills piled up. They moved back to Ohio where Don died in October 2006. She and son Brandon were left penniless. “We were on the street.” They lived through the Ohio winter in their 1982 Plymouth Voyager.

Both women remember in detail how their pleas to the league and the union went unanswered. Their bitterness is as overwhelming as their tears are moving and focuses more on the union because they expected help.

“How can they be in business with management?” said Syndi, a former union member. “That’s not a union.”

Suzie said, “My least favorite person in the world is Gene Upshaw and his $7 million salary.”

As if to illustrate their frustration, Upshaw, the union’s executive director, refused to answer questions. NFLPA spokesman Carl Francis wrote: “Gene is currently not addressing retired players’ issues. … This issue has received so much negative press that even the writers we do accommodate write the story with a negative slant. This issue is very complex and difficult to explain through an article.”

Perhaps it’s too difficult to defend because the union is obviously more concerned with its marketing dollars than with its retired players. It’s a disgrace. When guys with compassion, like Laird and other retired players, were coming to the aid of Sylvia, Suzie and Syndi, the NFLPA was planning its Super Bowl parties to celebrate with its business partners.

Former Redskins Linebacker Wins Disability Appeal Before 4th Circuit

2008-01-16T20:05:00.000-05:00

http://www.law.com/jsp/article.jsp?id=1200418107232

Brendan Smith
Legal Times
01-16-2008

Wilber Marshall -- a 45-year-old retired linebacker who won two Super Bowl rings with the Washington Redskins and Chicago Bears -- took home a win from the 4th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals in his longstanding dispute with the National Football League over disability benefits.

In its unanimous decision Monday, the 4th Circuit reinstated a bankruptcy judge's decision that awarded Marshall approximately $72,000 in disability benefits, plus attorney fees and court costs. The NFL Retirement Board had denied the benefits for eight months in 2001, but the 4th Circuit found the board chose an arbitrary starting date for reinstating Marshall's benefits based on one doctor's report, despite a prior history of his disabilities from past medical reports. The decision reversed a ruling by U.S. District Judge Gerald Bruce Lee in the Eastern District of Virginia, who found the board's later starting date was reasonable.

Marshall, who filed for bankruptcy in 2002, is hobbled by degenerative arthritis in his knees, ankles, hands, elbows and spine. "It's not just one joint. It's your whole body," he says. "There are so many appeals. Appeals, appeals, appeals. How many [retired] players can keep fighting?"

William "Dan" Sullivan, a partner at Tighe Patton Armstrong Teasdale, represented Marshall, who lives in Sterling, Va. Sullivan says the NFL pension plan contains "an inherent potential for inconsistencies" not only from conflicting disability reports from different doctors but also the Retirement Board's actions.

"What seems to be most inconsistent is the board's treatment of the facts they get in a particular case in what I would say is a stingy approach to recognizing the pain and the suffering and the disabilities that last a lifetime after 12 seasons of playing rough as a linebacker in the NFL," Sullivan says. "These things crush people. If they're going to have a pension plan that is intended to deal with what the NFL does to its players over the course of years, they ought to have a pension plan that deals with it rather than trying to slough off its responsibility."

Marshall, a University of Florida standout who was picked in the first round of the 1984 draft by the Bears, played for the Redskins from the 1988 to 1992 seasons, including the Redskins' 37-24 win over the Buffalo Bills in Super Bowl XXVI in 1992. Marshall led the defense with 11 tackles, one sack and two forced fumbles in the victorious end to "perhaps the greatest all-around season in franchise history," according to the Redskins Web site.

After leaving the Redskins, Marshall, a three-time Pro Bowl player, was signed for single seasons with the Houston Oilers, Arizona Cardinals and New York Jets, but his rapidly declining health forced him to retire in 1995.

Marshall's battle with the NFL began in 1997 when he first applied for disability benefits, with his case later bouncing among doctors approved by the Retirement Board who issued contradictory opinions about whether Marshall was permanently disabled or capable of performing sedentary work. The board includes three voting members from the NFL Management Council and three from the NFL Players Association.

In 1998, a physician found Marshall was permanently disabled, resulting in the board awarding retroactive disability benefits back to April 1997. But in 2000, another doctor found Marshall could do sedentary work, with the board then terminating his benefits the following year. After another appeal, two more doctors ruled again that Marshall was permanently disabled, resulting in another reinstatement of his benefits in 2002. That same year, Marshall filed for bankruptcy, leading to a lawsuit in 2004 from both the bankruptcy trustee and Marshall against the NFL Player Retirement Plan over the denied benefits in 2001.

Marshall says the doctors approved by the Retirement Board are not impartial. "They have a right to say whatever they're going to say, but who's paying them?" he asks.

Sullivan says there are no debts left to be resolved in Marshall's bankruptcy, so Marshall will collect the $72,000 in unpaid disability benefits and will be repaid for court costs and attorney fees.

Lonie Hassel with the Groom Law Group, a D.C.-based employee benefits specialty firm, represented the NFL Player Retirement Plan. She couldn't be reached for comment Monday. The defendant's brief stated that the Retirement Board "did the best it could given the medical disagreement" over Marshall's permanent disability.

"The bottom line here is that the board followed the [retirement] plan exactly," the brief stated. "A close medical issue, and a disagreement among physicians, does not make the actions of the board an 'abuse of discretion.'"

The Wrecking Yard (May 2001 Sports Illustrated article)

2008-01-07T13:14:00.000-05:00

CNN/Sports Illustrated
May 7, 2001

As they limp into the sunset, retired NFL players struggle with the game's grim legacy: a lifetime of disability and pain

By William Nack, Special Reporting by Lester Munson

When I came to my first NFL camp, it was like I was a tall, cold can of beer. They popped the top, and all that energy and desire and ability poured out. I gave of myself with the same passion that I had in high school and college. When I was empty, when I had no more to give, they just crumpled me up and threw me on the garbage heap. Then they grabbed another new can and popped him open, and he flowed out until he was empty. --CURT MARSH, NFL lineman 1981-86

They are the wincing, hobbling wounded: the men who played professional football, a notoriously joint-shearing, disk-popping, nerve-numbing exercise that has grown only more dangerous since Curt Marsh last crashed into a defensive lineman as a Los Angeles Raider.

"If you go to a retired players' convention, there are older retirees who walk around like Maryland crabs," says Miki Yaras-Davis, director of benefits for the NFL Players Association. "It's an orthopedic surgeon's dream. I'm surprised the doctors aren't standing outside the door handing out their cards. Hardly one [former player] you see doesn't need a hip replacement. Everybody comes out of pro football with some injury. It's only the degree that separates them." A 1990 Ball State study, commissioned by the NFLPA and covering the previous 50 years of league history, revealed that among 870 former players responding to a survey, 65% had suffered a "major injury" while playing--that is, an injury that either required surgery or forced them to miss at least eight games. The study also reported that the percentage of players incurring such injuries had increased alarmingly: from 42% before 1959 to 72% in the 1980s, after many stadiums had switched from grass to artificial turf. Two of every three former players disclosed that their football injuries had limited their ability to participate in sports and other recreation in retirement, and more than half of them also had a curtailed ability to do physical labor. Of those who played during the '70s and '80s, nearly half (50% and 48%, respectively) reported that they had retired because of injury -- up from 30% in the years before 1959.

There's little doubt, based on a follow-up survey in 1994 and on considerable anecdotal evidence, that injuries in the NFL are becoming more serious and frequent as the colliding bodies grow bigger and stronger. The 300-pound-plus Sira-goosed lineman, a rarity 40 years ago, is today as common as the soccer-style kicker. James Andrews, a leading orthopedic surgeon who has been operating on pro football players for almost 30 years, sees a correlation between the worsening of injuries and the size and power of the modern player. In fact, Andrews, who works out of the HealthSouth Medical Center in Birmingham, is witnessing the rise of a phenomenon that was almost unheard of only 15 years ago.

"The incidence of serious, noncontact knee injuries is much higher than it used to be," he says. Artificial turf is only part of the problem. "These athletes are bigger, stronger and running faster, and they're tearing up knees from cutting, changing direction on a dime," Andrews says. "In fact, the incidence of anterior cruciate ligament injuries is higher from noncontact than contact. I've seen guys get significant injuries just falling on the football. It's like a big tree falling."

Indeed, among the most notable casualties of noncontact incidents are two gifted running backs: Jamal Anderson and Ki-Jana Carter. Anderson, of the Atlanta Falcons, missed all but two games in 1999 after tearing the ACL in his right knee during a Monday Night Football game on artificial turf; his foot got snagged in the rug, and Anderson went one way as his popping knee went another. Carter, the top pick in the 1995 draft, tore his left ACL in his rookie year by simply "twisting" the knee, says Andrews. The former Penn State star was cut by the Cincinnati Bengals last June and hasn't been picked up by another team.

As for the New Age tyrannosaurs battling in the trenches, they have become so large and powerful that injuries have risen alarmingly in their hand-to-hand combat. "They are exerting forces strong enough to dislocate their elbows and shoulders forward and backward," Andrews says. "With the blocking techniques we're seeing, there's an increased incidence of offensive linemen's shoulders being dislocated."

Some players have quit rather than court more pain. A teary-eyed John Elway, claiming he still had a passion for the game at age 38, retired two years ago because his body could no longer take the punishment. Minnesota Vikings running back Robert Smith, 28, an unrestricted free agent at the height of his game, astounded the NFL in February by retiring without explanation, turning his back on what was expected to be a lively bidding war, with offers likely to exceed $ 30 million for five years. Smith had already had three knee surgeries, and while his agent, Neil Cornrich, denied that the on-the-job pounding played any part in the running back's decision to leave the game, Smith had implied as much to reporters. (Another running back, Curtis Enis, retired last week at 24 because of a degenerative condition in his left knee. Enis, the No. 5 pick in the 1998 draft, tore a ligament in that knee during his rookie season, with the Chicago Bears.)

No matter how young they are when they retire, a great many NFL players face a visit in middle age from that most pernicious of postfootball afflictions, degenerative arthritis. An athlete who suffers an injury to a major weight-bearing joint, such as the hip or knee, is five to seven times more likely to develop degenerative arthritis than an average member of the population. Repeated pounding and jarring of the joints -- even in the absence of injury -- all but guarantee that former players will be caught in the ganglia of serious and chronic pain. The 1994 NFLPA-Ball State survey said that arthritis is the most commonly reported health problem among retired players, affecting 47% of respondents.

"A lot of ex-players with terribly arthritic spines say, 'But I never had a back injury!'" Andrews says. "That doesn't matter. There's no way to heal those cartilage lesions. They heal with scar tissue and are never as good again. What you end up with is a bunch of ex-NFL players, in their 40s and 50s, who shouldn't have arthritis but have degenerated knees and need total replacement done at an early age."

This, then, is not about a few casualties wandering off the playing field into retirement, their bells rung and still chiming in their heads, but rather about a whole society of broken men hounded through their lives by pain and injury, and all the psychological problems that often attend them.

Johnny Unitas once owned the most dangerous right arm in the NFL. Today he barely has use of the hand attached to it. Unitas, who is considered by many to be the greatest field general to play the game, is still paying for a hit he took more than three decades ago as a Baltimore Colt. That day in 1968, Unitas was drawing back his arm to throw a pass when a Dallas Cowboy mashed the inside of his elbow. Unitas came back to play again--the arm seemed fine up through his retirement in 1974 -- but by the mid-1990s he was having problems with the nerves that controlled his hand and fingers. He lost strength and feeling in the hand and became unable to rotate the thumb back and grasp objects. The symptoms only got worse. Now Unitas cannot close the hand that made Raymond Berry famous.

Unitas's two knee replacements work perfectly well -- cartilage and ligaments in the right knee were torn in a collision with two Bears in 1963, while the left wore out from years of favoring the right -- but when he plays golf, which is about all the exercise he can get with those knees, he has to use his left hand to close the fingers of his gloved right hand around the grip, then strap the hand to the shaft with a Velcro strip. He goes through this tedium on every shot. "I do it putting, too," says Johnny U, who's 68.

Forty years ago Unitas was the toughest and smartest quarterback in the game, calling the plays and running the show in a way that inspired both fear and awe among teammates and opponents alike. Mentally, he always seemed a step ahead of everyone else. If a situation looked ripe for a pass, Unitas would signal a run; if it called for a run, he'd throw a pass. If it called for a pass and his opponents, trying to outguess him, set up for a run, he'd throw. Unitas perfected the two-minute drill, and no one since -- not Montana, not Elway -- has run it better.

Setting an NFL record that seems as unassailable as Joe DiMaggio's 56-game hitting streak, Unitas threw a touchdown pass in 47 consecutive games between 1956 and 1960. In the years since, only Dan Marino has come anywhere close to that mark, throwing scoring passes in 30 straight games from 1985 to '87.

Unitas has demanded disability compensation from the league but says he has been turned down for various reasons, among them that he didn't apply by age 55 -- though his right hand didn't fail him until he was 60 -- and that the league pays him a pension of $ 4,000 a month. The NFL adds that, in its opinion, Unitas is not "totally and permanently disabled."

Meanwhile, of that magical hand that spun footballs like strands of gold, Unitas says, "I have no strength in the fingers. I can't use a hammer or saw around the house. I can't button buttons. I can't use zippers. Very difficult to tie shoes. I can't brush my teeth with it, because I can't hold a brush. I can't hold a fork with the right hand. I can't pick this phone up. You give me a full cup of coffee, and I can't hold it. I can't comb my hair."

Bill Stanfill never thought it would come to this. Never conceived, through all his years as a rampaging defensive end for the Miami Dolphins, that he would be reduced to what he is now. Never imagined that at 54, he would be navigating his house in Georgia with a metal walker --step-shuffle, step-shuffle -- as he recovered from hip-replacement surgery. Or still feeling the consequences of that near-fatal injury he suffered when, during a preseason game against the Bengals in 1975, he cracked heads with teammate Vern Den Herder and almost severed his spinal cord between vertebrae C-4 and C-3.

It was like nothing he had ever felt. "I'd had stingers, but this was entirely different," Stanfill recalls. "I just numbed up. Could not move my arms or feel myself breathing." Stanfill had subluxed the joint in his cervical spine; that is, a disk and the surrounding bone had slipped nearly far enough to damage the cord. Stanfill would never be the same player again, and by the end of the next year he would be out of football. Two decades later, in the mid-'90s, the disks began herniating, and he has had four vertebrae fused in his cervical spine.

"I can't tip my head back at all," says Stanfill, an avid bird hunter, "so I can't shoot dove anymore. I feel like I swallowed a Viagra pill and it got stuck in my throat. My neck is stiff as hell. The neurosurgeons have told me that if another disk goes [in my cervical spine], I will be totally disabled."

Stanfill was an old-fashioned football gladiator, a 6'5 1/2", 255-pound country boy who won the Outland Trophy, as the college game's best interior lineman, in his senior year at Georgia; helped Miami win two Super Bowls, after the 1972 and '73 seasons; and was named to four Pro Bowls. He relished the battle in the trenches, mano a mano. "All I wanted to do was play," he says.

All those wars left all those scars, however, and not only to his spine. In late January, while sitting next to the fireplace in his five-bedroom redbrick house outside Albany, Ga., Stanfill pointed out a glass jar sitting on the mantel. At the bottom of the jar, immersed in a clear solution, was a mysterious white ball. "I'm gonna see if I can donate it for auction," he said. "'Who wants a piece of Bill Stanfill?' That's part of me. The price I paid for playing pro football."

It was the ball of his left hip, and it had been sawed off his skeleton three weeks earlier. Stanfill had been suffering from avascular necrosis (AVN) -- in which blood circulation is cut off to the hip bone, causing it to die -- because of repeated trauma and, possibly, repeated injection of the anti-inflammatory drug cortisone when he was in pro ball. ("I was like a pincushion," he says.) Stanfill sells agricultural real estate, but he has worked little since March 2000, when a disk in his lower back ruptured. Doctors have told him that his right hip also has AVN and will have to be replaced.

Stanfill's football days have left him a physical wreck, making him wonder what his life will be like in five years. Still, he expresses neither rancor nor self-pity. "Just wish I'd made some of the money they're making today," he says wryly. "It would make this a lot easier to live with."

Earl Campbell has a dazzling assortment of rings that were given to him in honor of his storied accomplishments as a college and pro running back: the Heisman Trophy ring, the NFL Rookie of the Year ring, one MVP ring (though he was MVP three times) and the NFL Hall of Fame ring, but he wears none of them because of arthritis in both his hands, the ones that he used to push away pursuing tacklers. "Jim Brown and I were the best at the stiff-arm," says Campbell. "Now I can barely close my left fist -- the arthritis and the soreness and the pain."

Campbell was a complete force as a running back, fast enough to turn the corner and race upfield, strong enough to crash through the line. He always seemed to be running out of his clothes; it was as if he invented the tear-away jersey. The abiding memory of Campbell is that of a man charging down the field with three defenders clinging to his back. It was easy to imagine him in the end zone dressed in nothing more than his jockstrap and shoulder pads, standing there with a quizzical smile on his face and various large bodies scattered behind him, each clutching a remnant of his uniform. As his Houston Oilers coach, Bum Phillips, said, "Earl Campbell may not be in a class by himself, but whatever class he's in, it doesn't take long to call roll."

Now 46 and the owner of a barbecue restaurant and a sausage-making business in Austin, Campbell winces at more than his swollen digits. His knees and back ache ceaselessly. He also has a condition called drop foot: As a result of nerve damage to his legs, he cannot raise the front of his feet when he lifts them off the ground to take a step. The feet flop along loosely when he walks. To use the bathroom upstairs from his home office, Campbell -- unable to grip with his hands or bend his knees--must lean his forearms on the railings and drag himself up the eight or 10 steps. The process is as painful to watch as it must be for Campbell to complete.

"I realize that every time you get something in life, you've got to give up something," he says. He likes to hunt deer and wild boar in south Texas, and he is reminded of what he gave the game whenever he is home on the range. "Sometimes it gets to the point that I can't stand the pain, like when I've got to walk a lot," he says. "Thank God I'm with people who understand me: 'Take all the time you need.' It's embarrassing when I've got to hop onto the back of a pickup and I need help. Or I need help climbing into deer blinds.

"Sometimes I tell my wife, 'Shoot, if I knew it was going to hurt like this, I don't know if I'd have [played football].' It's a hell of a price to pay."

For most NFL players, especially linemen, weight training is as much a part of the daily regimen as stretching exercises--and the weight room works its own form of wickedness. Hoisting iron, players rupture the patella tendons in their knees, put enormous strain on their lower backs and cause ligament injuries to the lumbar spine. They even damage their shoulders by doing something the joint was not designed to do: bench-pressing huge weights.

Joe Jacoby, a former Washington Redskins offensive lineman, was a habitue of the Skins' weight room, squat lifting his afternoons away. He dare not lift weights anymore, for fear it will accelerate the deterioration of his ankles, knees, wrists, elbows and back. Jacoby still feels the echoes of years spent snatching iron and leaning his sequoia body into snot-blowing defensive linemen who drove shuddering forces down his spine and onto his lower joints.

At 6'7", 305 pounds, Jacoby was a giant among the Hogs, a 13-year veteran who retired in 1993, the year he collapsed in his bathroom at home and could not get up. "My lower back went out," he says. "I dropped to my knees on the floor. The pain was that sharp. I crawled out of the bathroom to the bed." Like Stanfill, imbued with the ethic to play in pain, Jacoby played again later that year. Then, against the Kansas City Chiefs, his back went out again. He ended up spending three days in a hospital.

"I never wanted to go out that way," says Jacoby, 41. "I wanted to keep playing, even though I was hurting. I felt like I was letting down the team. You've been brought up that way since high school. It's ingrained in you. I had a wife. I had a family. A business I was starting. But I kept hearing those little things in the back of my mind: You're letting your team down." He was in traction, shot up with cortisone, when the thought finally struck him: I can't keep doing this. I have a life to live after this.

Jacoby had blown out his left knee earlier in his career, when his leg got wrenched in a pileup during a field goal attempt. "The kneecap was way over on the side of the knee," he recalls. "I still hear the crunching and popping." Another old wound -- vintage for linemen, who are forever getting their fingers caught and dislocated in face masks and shoulder pads -- is the busted knuckle on Jacoby's wedding-band finger, as gnarled as a tree root. He has won many wagers in bars, claiming he can get the ring over that knuckle. His wife, Irene, had the band made with a clasp, so he can take it off like a bracelet.

Jacoby owns an auto dealership in Warrenton, Va. He and Irene had the sinks in the kitchen and master bathroom of their house installed higher than normal, "so he doesn't have to bend down," she says. He often walks about sockless in loafers. "It's too painful for him to bend over and put on socks or lace up shoes," Irene says.

Jacoby walks stiffly on his damaged ankles, but he endures the discomforts with stoic grace. He still remembers vividly the pounding he took year after year, through 170 games, including four Super Bowls--a career that left him unable to do any exercise other than walking. "Some days the back gets unbearable," he says. "It's really deep in the lower back and goes down to my left buttock and hamstring. Sometimes it gets so bad it hurts my nuts. There's pain down my left leg now. My left foot has been numb for two months. The bone's pressing on the nerve. Too many years of abuse, using the back to block."

Like so many other hobbled former players, Jacoby says he would do it all again if he had the chance. He knew what he was getting into. "Football players know the risk and the consequences," he says. "They know they will pay for it later in life. If they don't, they are misleading themselves."

As much as Jacoby has gone through, he looks fortunate when compared with Chris Washington. Only 39, Washington seems old beyond his years. He was an NFL linebacker for seven seasons, most of them with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and he has had 21 operations. He suffers from severe arthritis in both knees--he has had six surgeries on the right, five on the left--and his right thigh and calf are atrophying. He endures his days with help from a pharmacopia in a kitchen cabinet: one pill for sleep, two for pain (including double-strength codeine) and two to reduce inflammation.

Washington was a zealous weightlifter, but now his home looks like a Gold's Gym after closing, with everything racked and idle: the stationary bike, the treadmill, the stair-climber and tons of barbells. He won't use any of them for fear of inflaming his diseased joints. Not only is he virtually crippled by ailing knees, but he also suffers hand tremors from pinched nerves; he shakes too much to fasten a necklace around his wife's neck. Although he has upper arms like ham shanks, he experiences periodic loss of strength in the right one and has back spasms as well. Washington carries his 10-month-old daughter, Taylor, in a Snugli, but not simply for convenience. He fears he will be seized by a shooting pain in his back or arm or suffer the sudden collapse of a knee and drop her -- or, worse, fall on her.

Washington, who has worked as an insurance salesman and a data-entry clerk after retiring from the NFL in 1992, has been unable to hold a job since 1996. He draws disability payments to help support his family and is seeing his worst fears slide before his eyes. "Not being able to run around and play with my daughter," he says, giving one example. "I tried coaching [as a volunteer at the high school level], but my body couldn't take it; I can't stay on my feet that long. What kind of an example am I setting for kids if I'm walking around with a cane? I don't go to a lot of NFL functions. I would like to hang out with those guys, but I don't want them to see me like this."

None of this comes in the tone of a complaint. Washington wishes only that when he played he had known more about what he was doing to his body and had taken better care of it. He wishes that he had not allowed himself to be shot up with painkillers and cortisone so he could play hurt. Like the other former players who have been down that tortuous road, he assumes his share of the blame. "It was my choice to do what I did," he says. "I guess I didn't expect to be in this kind of shape."

Nor did Harry Carson, for 13 years a crushing, headfirst inside linebacker of the New York Giants. Carson's injury is to a human organ that is still little understood. By his own count he suffered at least 15 concussions while playing pro football, from 1976 to '88, and he is afflicted by what Yaras-Davis, of the NFLPA, believes is one of the most common and troublesome maladies among former players: postconcussion syndrome, which is marked by headaches, forgetfulness, blurred vision and difficulty tracking mentally.

Former Cowboys quarterback Troy Aikman and former San Francisco 49ers quarterback Steve Young, each of whom has suffered repeated bell-ringers on the field, are the players most closely associated with concussions. Carson, however, was one of the first former players to go public with the debilitating aftershocks of concussions, in an attempt to broaden understanding of the problem. Carson had his share of other injuries, but none quite as stunning as the concussion he suffered in 1985 when he crashed head-on into his favorite opponent, Redskins fullback John Riggins. "It was pretty much my power against his power," Carson says. "I remember hitting John and going back to the huddle ... everything faded to black. I was literally out on my feet."

Carson would find that such blows had long-term effects. In 1991, three years after he retired, he wrote in his journal, "I don't think as clearly as I used to. Nor is my speech, diction, selection of vocabulary as good as it used to be, and I don't know why." As a TV broadcaster with the MSG Network in New York City, he would occasionally misspeak. "I would mispronounce words and lose my train of thought," he says. "Things would happen, and I'd think I was going crazy. I'd go to the store to get something and forget what."

Like Yaras-Davis, Carson believes the syndrome is far more common than is generally thought. "One problem is that a lot of players who suffer from it have no clue what they're dealing with," says Carson, who still appears on a weekly show, Giants GamePlan, for MSG. "I've talked to players I've played with and against. Once I went public with this concussion thing, they were looking at me as being sort of brain-damaged, drooling and all this stuff. But it is an injury just like one to your knee or hip."

What ails Curt Marsh is far less elusive. The 41-year-old former offensive lineman for the Raiders could serve as a poster boy for crippled veterans who ache in all the usual NFL places: neck, back, knees, hips, ankles. Bone by bone, Marsh's body is gradually being replaced. He has had more than 20 operations, including one in '96 to replace his left hip, which had developed AVN, and he expects soon to undergo surgery to replace his right hip, which also has been damaged by AVN.

Like Stanfill, Marsh allowed team doctors to shoot him up repeatedly with painkillers and cortisone. By the time he retired, after seven years in the league, Marsh had a scoped knee, bulging disks and a right ankle that had been destroyed when the Raiders' team physician, Robert Rosenfeld, who died in 1994, apparently misdiagnosed and mistreated a broken talus bone. By 1994, after the 13th operation on it, the ankle was a hopeless ruin, and doctors cut off Marsh's leg eight inches below the knee.

Marsh is not shy about being an amputee. While attending a 1998 hearing of the California Senate's Industrial Relations Committee in Sacramento, Marsh, all 350 pounds of him, heard one agitated senator, Ross Johnson of Irvine, excoriate pro athletes who had taken advantage of the state's generous workers' compensation laws by filing their claims there, even if they lived in other states and had played only road games in California. Johnson, backing a bill that would have limited workers' comp payments for pro athletes, declared that he was "outraged" that "professional athletes, who earn huge sums of money, wind up abusing a system that was created for the benefit of average working men and women."

Moments later Marsh, in a move as memorable as any he ever made with the Raiders, pounced on Johnson, saying he was "offended" to see athletes being treated "as if they were a piece of meat" because they were well paid for their labors. "And that makes [what happens to them] O.K.? That really bothers me. We have families that go through the pain. We have ... "

Here Marsh reached both hands down to his right leg, pressed a button on the side of his black boot and, to gasps from the audience, removed the prosthesis from his stump and raised it in the air. "Fact of the matter is, you cannot pay me enough money to make this worth my while," he said, holding the boot aloft. "This is a real issue Seventy times a game you run into a human being as big as you are. They say that's like a traffic accident What is that, 1,400 traffic accidents a year? And we're gonna say it's O.K. because we pay 'em a lot of money... but they don't deserve to get the same thing that we give everyone else?"

The bill was never enacted.

For all that he has been through, Marsh is remarkably free of bitterness, even though he believes his amputation was the result of poor medical care. "I'm not looking for pity," he says. "That's just the way it is." For him and for countless other veterans of pro football's trench warfare.

A whole battalion of Curt Marshes and Chris Washingtons and Earl Campbells is out there, enough to fill an NFL Old Soldiers' Home, doddering arthritically around the grounds. Busted knees, numb and bulbous ankles, sawed-off hips and all.

Issue date: May 7, 2001

Find this article at:
http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/si_online/news/2002/09/11/wrecking_yard

Weak Coverage

2007-11-05T11:19:00.000-05:00

The Harvard Crimson
Opinion
Weak Coverage
Published On 11/4/2007 11:58:49 PM
By RAÚL A. CASTILLO '10

Those of you who watched the Broncos-Bills Week One game will be happy to know that Kevin Everett survived that hit. His spine was merely “scissored,” as orthopedic surgeon Dr. Andrew Cappuccino announced on Sept. 10th. With luck, the 25-year-old tight-end will one day regain the sensation in his legs and find another job. But don’t count on the National Football League (NFL) funding a recovery—the Bills have already cleaned out his locker.

Injuries like Everett’s spinal-snap are all too common in professional football. Unfortunately, the NFL’s lack of continuing interest in the player is just as predictable.

The average NFL player is employed for three to five years. During that time he spends several hours per day ramming his head into tacklers with up to 2,000 pounds of force (roughly the equivalent of you or me smashing our bare skulls against a brick wall repeatedly). In between possessions he retreats to the sideline for shots of Vicodin, Lidocaine, and encouragement to do it all over again. “Off-season” is a myth. “Injured reserve” is for cowards. The athletes contribute to the circus of blue-collar combat 24 hours per day, 365 days per year. But the consequences of an NFL career are extreme and often unknown to the fans: the average veteran at any position dies before he turns 55, the age at which he can finally begin to draw full pension.

The NFL uses up its laborers and then leaves them unprotected in the pocket. A Congressional hearing this past June revealed a pattern of conduct by the league that denies retirees the money to which their injuries entitle them. The game rakes in $7 billion per year and causes more bodily harm than any other. And yet fewer than 3 percent of applicable veterans—men plagued by brain trauma, dementia, and paralysis—succeed in obtaining disability benefits.

But surely the retirees can pay medical expenses with the money they made as players right? Unfortunately, no. The violent nature of football often renders athletes incapable of providing for their families. At career’s end their bodies are broken and multiple concussions have numbed their brains to the point where they cannot remember the hits that placed them in such miserable condition. Hospital and prescription bills suck up the money quickly, especially in the case of players from the 1970’s and 1980’s, whose salaries were but a pittance compared to those of today. The inability to lead a normal life forces former athletes to live off their pensions, which amount to no more than a sub-poverty $12,000 per year.

The 32 owners are certainly the masterminds behind the league’s shady treatment of its pastime superstars. But far more deplorable is the action—or inaction—of the NFL Player’s Association. The NFLPA, led by former Oakland Raider guard Gene Upshaw, has turned its back on its own. Despite the existence of a $1 billion NFLPA fund for retirees, the tax forms from 2006 show that only about 120 succeeded in obtaining disability benefits, for a total of approximately $9 million. The union, which is expected to work with management to provide for veterans who built the league, will simply not dole out the dough.

Why in such a lucrative industry, do the heroes of America’s greatest game have to live in agony and poverty? Some, like former Jaguars guard Brian DeMarco, have been homeless. Others currently rely on the charity of old coaches. Upshaw claims that players understand the nature of the game and should expect to provide for themselves after the big-time. “There is no job that you can work for five years—10 if you’re lucky—and then believe that you’re never going to have to work another day in your life,” he said during the hearings. True, but most jobs don’t turn the employee’s brain into brain soup after five years. According to the New York Times, the neurologists who performed the autopsy on former safety Andre Watters, dead at 44, found that he had the deteriorated brain of an 85-year-old man.

Upshaw is also quick to assert that the union represents only active players and the hotshots cannot be expected to forfeit a piece to old-timers no longer bringing in revenue. This statement is false on two accounts. First, the NFLPA fund money is provided almost entirely by the ownership. There is little reason that current players should vote to withhold pension payments absent of Upshaw’s pressure. Second, the league continues to make bucks off the names and feats of vets; it sells memorabilia, shows old film on ESPN Classic, and maintains the Hall of Fame.

The retirees’ case against the league is one against pure greed. This year Gene Upshaw will make $6.7 million—the highest salary for a union official in American history. At the very least, the NFLPA should push management to allow disabled vets access to full pension at an early age. Disabled veterans should be able to provide for their families before the last Hail Mary. Perhaps, if the owners and union truly have souls, they will support Kevin Everett’s family until he is back on his feet—or at least until he can feel them again.

http://www.thecrimson.com/article.aspx?ref=520535

Lawmakers Pressing Pro Football Issues

2007-10-12T17:38:00.000-04:00

Associated Press
By JESSE J. HOLLAND

October 12, 2007

WASHINGTON (AP) - A House committee that criticized the NFL's retiree benefit system ordered the league and the players' union Friday to turn over information on football injuries, the disability and retirement system and what's being done to help battered and broken retirees.

The House Judiciary Committee has arranged for the Congressional Research Service, an investigative and research unit, to conduct an independent study of those questions as well, committee leaders said in letters to the National Football League and the National Football League Players Association (NFLPA).

"Several members of the committee have suggested that Congress should intervene to fix what has been described as a broken system of delivering disability benefits to former NFL players," a letter from Reps. John Conyers, D-Mich., and Lamar Smith, R-Texas, said. "The CRS study will provide the essential facts to help us consider what steps, if any, Congress could take on this issue in the future." Conyers is the committee chairman and Smith is the ranking GOP member.

The NFL and the union have until Oct. 26 to turn over the information and answer the committee's questions. The panel has not decided whether to hold additional hearings, a spokeswoman said.

Retired football players have been openly critical of the NFL and the players' union over the amount of money that older retirees get from a $1.1 billion fund set aside for disability and pensions.

In congressional testimony, retired NFL players have told sympathetic lawmakers about the multiple surgeries, mental illnesses and other problems many suffer after years of playing the violent sport, all the while trying to fight through the red tape of the NFL and NFLPA's disability system.

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell defended their system in a September Senate hearing, saying the NFL is boosting benefits when many companies around the country are reducing them. But he acknowledged that there have to be ways to improve.

Gene Upshaw, director of the players association, told the Senate that Congress should give the players' union greater authority to approve disability claims.

The players' union wants Congress to change federal law so it has more power on the retirement board that reviews disability claims. Under current law, the union can only name three retired former players to the board. NFL owners appoint the other three representatives.

The union is also asking Congress to tweak worker compensation laws and eliminate some of the layers of bureaucracy that make it harder for claims to be honored.

On the Net:

* House Judiciary Committee: http://judiciary.house.gov
* NFL: http://www.nfl.com
* NFLPA: http://www.nflpa.org

Maroons Madness

2007-10-12T17:32:00.000-04:00

Thursday, October 11, 2007
Updated: October 12, 12:32 PM ET
By David Fleming

POTTSVILLE, Pa. -- After a long, crazy, awesome day of events in Pottsville, Pa., to celebrate the release of "Breaker Boys: The NFL's Greatest Team and the Stolen 1925 Championship," I stood in a corner of the crowded Greystone Restaurant here in town talking to Pottsville native and former Denver Bronco Jack Dolbin. A starting wide receiver for the Broncos during their Orange Crush heyday -- still wearing his 1977 AFC Championship ring -- Doblin spoke passionately about how the current NFL lacks what he called "the proper reverence and respect," not only for the league's retired, disabled players but for pioneering teams like his beloved Pottsville Maroons.

But even if the owners and the players fall short in their appreciation and respect for those who paved the way before them, let me tell you something I've learned after just 24 hours in Pottsville:

True NFL fans -- in places like the coal region of Pennsylvania, and the wonderful, warm, proud towns like Pottsville that dot this region -- most certainly do not.

After arriving in town, my family and I were invited for dinner at the Pottsville Club, where everyone was trying to gauge the interest and reception the book was going to get in town. Just before dinner, though, we were interrupted by a lovely little grandmother-like woman who said she was looking forward to reading the book because she was a fan of the region's proud football heritage, and she'd actually known some of the players on the 1925 Maroons.

Without thinking, I asked her which players she knew. Halfway through my response, however, I realized she was probably just being nice; now I had put her on the spot, and basically blown my first interaction in town.

"Oh, I knew Tony Latone rather well, he was the running back, you know, and his fullback Barney Wentz, I knew him too," she replied without hesitation. "I was a fan of the way those two ran the ball, the way they played the game, you know. Yes I was."

"Welcome to coal country, Flem," was the first thought that shot through my mind.

Then I thought about NFL great Fritz Pollard, who once said there were three kinds of football: pro, college, and coal region. And in 1925 the Pottsville Maroons -- one of the most dominant, influential and controversial teams in the NFL history -- ruled them all.

Almost 82 years after the Maroons' meteoric rise to the top of the football world, this unique, vibrant town is still rallying behind their team in a way that could teach the NFL a thing or two. I hate to say it, but there is more passion and support for the NFL today in Pottsville (90 miles northwest of Philadelphia in the valley of Sharp Mountain) than there is in Los Angeles. (Maybe the Jacksonville Jaguars should move here? After getting to know folks like Ian and Eric Lipton, and other business leaders in Pottsville, that's actually not as preposterous as it sounds.)

Pictures of the Maroons are in all the storefronts that line Centre Street. There are Maroons ribbons everywhere. In the display case at city hall is the huge trophy for the team, carved out of a single piece of anthracite coal.

We had a press conference at the Maroons Bar and Grill in town, where my daughters helped me cut a ceremonial cake with a picture of the team on it. Fans here love the Maroons so much, they refused to eat the part of the cake with the team's picture on it.

(And by the way, having my family here has been a blast -- because, honestly, until now I think my kids thought their dad earned a living by listening to music, playing air guitar and typing on the computer in his pajamas.)

Nearly 200 people packed the Majestic Theatre Wednesday night to watch some old clips of the team, listen to Maroons collector and historian Scott Warren speak, and listen to a few readings from my book. During one of the clips that aired on ESPN (John Madden referenced the Maroons on a "Monday Night Football" telecast a few years back) a player's son said, "Those people up in Pottsville, they won't quit, they won't ever quit."

Tell me about it.

They had 60 books available at my first book-signing here in town. And according to the Pottsville Republican & Herald, those 60 books were gone in 15 minutes. By the end of the day all 500 books in town were gone, trucks were being organized for a run to Scranton to pick up a fresh supply, and I was seriously considering signing books with my left hand. (I'm ambidextrous like that and, worse, shamelessly self-promoting according to this entire paragraph.) With the line out the door and down the sidewalk, the mayor of Pottsville himself, John Reiley, came over pushing a handcart with three boxes of "emergency" books from his stash at city hall.

What we'd failed to appreciate was most people were buying multiple books -- for their uncle living in Florida, for their dad, for their kids, for their husband or wife, for their former football coach. Even after four years of being somewhat obsessed with this team and this remarkable town, I never understood their true passion and enthusiasm until I got to meet face-to-face with the fans of the Maroons and to hear their stories.

I signed a book that someone was going to give to Philadelphia Eagles coach Andy Reid. Dolbin is going to send a book to Denver Broncos owner Pat Bowlen. I signed for several sons of actual team members. I signed for John Faro, 91 years old, who says he was at both the Chicago and Notre Dame games in 1925 -- two contests that changed the course of the pro football. I signed for people in Florida, California, Colorado, Idaho, and a guy who drove up from Baltimore. I signed for crying kids and laughing great-grandparents. I signed for a professor at Temple who wrote to the NFL commissioner on the team's behalf when he was 10 years old.

Yes, my hand is sore from all the signing. But to a writer, that's the best feeling in the world.

The responses from residents at the book signings have had a common thread: for 82 years, this town has been playing a game of David and Goliath with the NFL and a handful of 'historians' who have been, at times, nasty, condescending and dismissive of the Maroons and the people in Pottsville -- simply because they could do so with impunity, since the team and the town had no voice.

But judging by the response so far, I think it's safe to say things have changed.

I have another signing at the library in town, where I hope to meet up with Billie Payne again. There's also a Big Band Night Thursday night (swing dancing: not my specialty). And, to cap off the week, I'll be at the Pottsville-Shamokin high school football game Friday night. On their way to the field, the Pottsville Crimson Tide pass by a photo of the 1925 Maroons on a wall just outside their locker room. In the book I talk about how it seems like the spirit of this rugged, pioneering team is still very much alive in this region, and that the players are still watching over the town. Watching, and waiting, and hoping they get what they earned on the field so many decades ago.

And judging by the remarkable response so far, who knows? Maybe the Maroons won't have to wait much longer.

David Fleming is a senior writer for ESPN The Magazine and the author of the memoir "Noah's Rainbow." His next book, "Breaker Boys: The NFL's Greatest Team and the Stolen 1925 Championship," will be published Oct. 9 by ESPN Books and has been optioned as a movie. The Flem File will run each Thursday during the NFL season.

Brain injuries; something soldiers and athletes have in common

2007-10-12T17:24:00.000-04:00

http://www.niemanwatchdog.org/index.cfm?fuseaction=background.view&ba...

COMMENTARY | October 11, 2007

Soldiers may not be able to avoid traumatic brain injuries (TBI). Athletes can but too often won't because their response to a concussion is to get back on the field as soon as they are able. The press, especially the regional press, can help alert youngsters to the dangers and consequences of TBI.

By Patricia Block

Traumatic brain injury, or TBI, as it is known to the millions of survivors of this horrible physical, cognitive and emotional malady, is widespread and getting worse. Often TBI can be avoided and for that reason the press - including the regional and small-town press - needs to do a better job explaining the dangers and consequences.

The New York Times reported on the subject in a Sept. 15 article, "Silence on Concussions Raises Risks of Injury," But the Times piece used the word "concussion" 30 times and the phrase "brain injury" only once.

A concussion is a brain injury that may be very damaging but often, depending on the severity of the bruising, is not. If it is followed by additional concussions, the result can be life-changing.

Do you know why high school football players stay silent on concussions? Most don't understand the risks. Many said they "did not quite know what a concussion was and would never tell their coaches if they believed they had sustained one."

In my view, it is almost criminal to use the euphemism "concussion" to describe what a football player, or anyone suffering a head injury, has experienced. This word often downplays the severity of the injury, even if clashing helmets result in what is often referred to as a mild concussion (brain injury) and the player experiences temporary dizziness, headache, nausea, impaired vision or lethargy - i.e., what one of the players referred to as "you feel real sleepy."

Even if a player understands that continuing to play shortly after suffering a concussion may cause further and potentially irreversible and lethal damage to his brain, he will continue to play the game. As one of them said in the Times article, "You've got to sacrifice for the sake of the team. The only way I come out is on a stretcher."

Huge ego, reckless bravado and, let's face it, flat-out ignorance. These young men either do not realize or want to acknowledge that whether they suffer a mild, moderate or severe TBI which, in worst cases, may lead to death, a brain injury often does result in cognitive, behavioral and psychosocial deficits that can significantly change their lives.

After suffering a head injury, the victim may feel overwhelmed doing things that used to be simple. Planning, identifying priorities, figuring out the steps to complete a task and monitoring one's own behavior are referred to as the "executive functions" of the brain.

TBI survivors may become overwhelmed by the complexity of work requiring multiple steps. They will continue to use a strategy that has repeatedly shown to be ineffective, become easily frustrated and have difficulty controlling their emotions. They will overlook errors and often fail to complete a task before the next one is started. They will also have difficulties making decisions when faced with several choices.

When it comes to TBI, survivors face challenges that are far more dramatic and life-changing than most can even begin to understand. The resulting cognitive deficits of TBI impact the survivor's intellectual skills, behavior and quality of life and, to some degree - extraordinarily in some cases - their earnings potential.

Since the war in Afghanistan, which began in 2001, about 2,100 troops there and in Iraq have been formally diagnosed with TBI. But officials estimate that up to 150,000 troops may have suffered concussions - mild TBIs - from roadside bomb attacks.

According to the Defense and Veterans Brain Injury Center, a research and treatment agency run by the Pentagon and Veterans Affairs Department, 64 percent of injured troops have suffered brain injuries.

The San Francisco Chronicle reported on Sgt. 1st Class Alec Geiss, of the Oregon National Guard, whose truck rolled over him as it crashed while avoiding a suspected land mine. Geiss's wife noticed that after his return the easygoing, relaxed dad who went to Iraq had become a quick-tempered man who couldn't remember the family's daily schedule, jumped up screaming when the family cat landed on his bed and couldn't tolerate crowds.

Dr. Henry Lew of the Palo Alto VA Hospital says it is a very common scenario. "You don't see shrapnel or bullets or open injuries," Lew says. "But the inside of the brain has been damaged to a point that it affects the daily function." Veterans Affairs psychologist Harriet Zeiner says that often people will think a brain-injured vet is depressed or suffering from post-traumatic stress. "It's really important," Zeiner says, "that individuals out in the public know that it's entirely possible for someone who's been in the combat theater to have a head injury and not know it."

Studies of more than 2,500 former National Football League players by the Center for the Study of Retired Athletes, the University of North Carolina, found that cognitive impairment, Alzheimer's-like symptoms and depression rose proportionately with the number of concussions they had sustained. That information, combined with the revelations that former Pittsburgh Steeler football players Mike Webster and Terry Long, who had repeated concussions throughout their careers and suffered from postconcussive brain dysfunction and mental impairment before their deaths, compelled Chris Nowinski - a former Harvard football player and professional wrestler whose repeated concussions ended his career and left him with severe migraines and depression - to expose the effects of contact-sport brain trauma examine and promote awareness of brain trauma's latent effects. Nowinski's book, "Head Games: Football's Concussion Crisis," detailed the public misunderstanding of concussions along with "the N.F.L.'s tobacco-industry-like refusal to acknowledge the depths of the problem." The book revealed that Mr. Webster became homeless and cognitively impaired before dying of heart failure in 2002. Mr. Long committed suicide in 2005.

Department of Defense statistics show that, in Iraq, approximately 514 U.S. soldiers are wounded every month and that approximately two-thirds of those wounded suffer a TBI. Does this mean that by 2008, another 1,028 soldiers will have suffered a traumatic brain injury?

TBI is known as the "invisible injury." Do boys playing football and men at war understand the Russian roulette they're playing with their future? Football, obviously, is not going away. When it comes to the war, however, we do have a choice. A way must be found to end this hellish legacy of cognitive carnage.

Gridiron Greats Media Alert

2007-08-17T15:40:00.000-04:00

****MEDIA ALERT ***MEDIA ALERT*** MEDIA ALERT***MEDIA ALERT****

MIKE DITKA’S, GRIDIRON GREATS ASSISTANCE FUND
OPEN TO THE PUBLIC!!!

NFL RETIRED PLAYERS MEDIA FORUM FEATURING FIVE RETIRED NFL PLAYERS SHOWCASED IN THE NEW MEN’S JOURNAL COVER STORY: “CASUALITIES OF THE NFL”
"How The NFL Destroys And Abandons Its Heroes"
An in-depth special investigative report

PRESS FORUM, DALLAS TEXAS AUGUST 20, 9:00am, Dallas Marriott Las Colinas

Former DALLAS COWBOY, THREE TIME SUPER BOWL CHAMPION DARYL JOHNSTON & RETIRED, DISABLED, NFL PLAYERS IN DIRE NEED

DARYL JOHNSTON WILL REVEAL HIS PERSONAL EXPERIENCES & DISSATISFACTION WITH THE NFLPA DISABILITY SYSTEM AND SHARE HIS THOUGHTS REGARDING HOW THE NFLPA ADDRESSES DISABILITY ISSUES AND THE NEEDS OF RETIRED PLAYERS

PARTICIPANTS ANNOUNCED!
FORMER DALLAS COWBOY DARYL JOHNSTON
PRO BOWLER, ST LOUIS CARDINAL/BUFFALO BILL, CONRAD DOBLER
FORMER JACKSONVILLE JAGUAR/CINCINNATI BENGAL, BRIAN DEMARCO
FORMER TAMPA BAY BUCCANEER/OAKLAND RAIDER, DAVE PEAR
FORMER BUFFALO BILL/, MIKE MOSLEY
*Participants will be added daily, a complete and updated list of attendees can be found at gridirongreats.org

What: Mike Dikta’s Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund will hold a press forum featuring former DALLAS COWBOY, DARYL JOHNSTON who left football with a broken neck after 11 brutal but stellar seasons. Johnston will reveal his first hand experiences and frustration with the NFLPA disability system. A group of NFL retired players and family members, will also disclose their experiences with the NFLPA benefits system. The group of players in attendance are featured in this months issue of Men’s Journal Magazine as part of an in-depth special investigative report, “Casualties of the NFL,” written by Pulitzer Prize nominated writer Paul Solotaroff. He will also be in attendance to discuss his findings with regard to the abandonment and betrayal of former players by the NFL/NFLPA and the possible corruption and grotesque conflict of interest that many retired players feel exists at the NFLPA.

WHO: DARYL JOHNSTON, former Dallas Cowboy, CONRAD DOBLER, three time Pro Bowler and dire need player who has been turned down multiple times for NFL disability despite 13 surgeries, BRIAN DEMARCO, dire need player, suffers from a cracked back and nerve damage has yet to have a claim opened after four years, DAVE PEAR, pro bowl nose guard, Tampa/Oakland, dire need player, after seven operations on his spine had also been denied, MIKE MOSLEY, former Buffalo Bill, severely disabled due to his NFL career, several years ago his lifetime NFL disability was revoked by the NFLPA, PAUL SOLOTAROFF, Men’s Journal contributing editor.

WHY: The purpose of the Gridiron Greats Press forum is to bring together and provide media access to the individuals who will openly discuss the inner workings of the NFLPA disability process from their first hand experience and address retired NFL players’ rights issues. Also to detail the mission of the Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund, a non-profit organization which focuses on the humanitarian side of post football related issues.

The Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund is a not-for-profit corporation that provides financial assistance and social services to retired NFL players who are in dire need. The Board of Directors includes Mike Ditka, Gale Sayers, Joe DeLamielleure, Harry Carson, Willie Davis, Tom Nowatzke and others. BOARD MEMBERS ARE AVAILABLE FOR INTERVIEWS VIA PHONE, TAPE & SATELLITE

When: MONDAY, AUGUST 20, 2007
Press check-in opens at: 8:30 AM
Photo, video opportunities and interviews available.

Where:
DALLAS MARRIOTT LAS COLINAS/Britain & Brown rooms
223 West Las Colinas Blvd
Irving, TX 75039

Contacts:
Jennifer Smith, Executive Director GGAF
(920) 499-7133 Office * (920) 819-1560 Cell
gridirongreats24@aol.com
or
Richard Stenard, GGAF Press Coordinator
(920) 499-7133

• Advance interviews are available for morning shows
• Some players will be available the afternoon and evening of August 20th for in studio radio/ TV interviews in Dallas
• Phone in radio and or satellite interviews are available for all markets.
• Gridiron Greats board members not attending the press event will also be available for phone or satellite interviews.
• Advance copies of the Men’s Journal cover story “Casualties of the NFL” are available on request

A Go-To Guy Sees Himself in a New Role

2007-07-27T17:19:00.000-04:00

By WILLIAM C. RHODEN
New York Times
July 27, 2007

"If I had an enemy and I was trying to conquer him, I would give him money, fame and power. They are three things that are extremely difficult to deal with."

Yesterday, as always, you could count on Curtis Martin to put the moment in perspective. He always had an appropriate answer for every situation.

When the Jets lost a classic heartbreaker of a game as only they could, and members of the news media predicted that the sky would fall, Martin would coolly say: "The sky is not falling. We lost a game. We'll come back stronger next week."

If the Jets won a big game, Martin would temper the urge to make the moment seem larger or more important than it was. With typical grace, he'd acknowledge the victory and add, "We still have a season to play." He always converted on first down.

Martin was the go-to guy for reporters, and for two N.F.L. teams (the Patriots and the Jets). He continues to be the go-to guy for a number of organizations in Pittsburgh, his hometown. And he is the go-to mentor for a number of professional athletes who seek him out for a levelheaded perspective about a world of sports in which the lines between fantasy and reality often blur.

Everyone's go-to guy officially announced his retirement from the N.F.L. yesterday. Martin made a whirlwind, daylong retirement tour, speaking with print, radio and television reporters, saying goodbye, offering retrospectives.

Was the N.F.L., I wondered, in better shape today than it was when he entered the league in 1995?

"I think the league has better athletes," Martin said at the Jets offices in Manhattan. "But I think the rise of talent, the rise of money and the rise of fame and the rise of power has affected the character."

·

Martin, a five-time Pro Bowl selection, is not leaving the game. In fact, he announced that he planned to own a piece of the game. He wants to buy an N.F.L. team.

Martin said that he approached his career like an internship for ownership, studying management styles and all of the components of operating a multimillion-dollar franchise.

"Even the way I've carried myself off the field, my reluctance to do a lot of commercials and a lot of publicity," he said, explaining that he always tried to set himself apart from the activities of most star players. "While most people have seen me as a low-profile player, I've always seen myself as a high-profile owner."

The notion of Martin as an N.F.L. owner is intriguing, particularly in the current sports climate, in which owners and the men and women they hire seem baffled by the young athletes they pay handsomely to run and jump. Increasingly, the method of bridging the gap is a strong-arm, might-is-right approach.

"One of the key differences is that I will be an owner who understands what the player thinks, feels, why he does what he does," Martin said.

"I'll be able to empathize, sympathize and advise athletes in a way that I believe can help out the league as a whole."

I wondered how Martin the owner would deal with Michael Vick the player. Martin played in New York and did the impossible: He stayed out of the limelight. You rarely, if ever, heard about Martin outside of game articles or his various charitable works. No one is saying that Martin is a saint or that he never crossed the line. It's just that you never heard about it. That's a major victory in the current climate of real-time, all-the-time news.

As Martin announced his retirement in New York, Vick, the Atlanta Falcons' quarterback, pleaded not guilty to charges that he and three other men operated an interstate dogfighting ring at a house Vick owned in Virginia.

"I wouldn't turn my back on him," Martin said of Vick. "I wouldn't suspend him. I wouldn't say, 'You know what, Mike, you're out of here.' I would try my best until I knew I could not work with him anymore to give him the support that he needed to succeed."

·

Martin said that Vick reflects the difficulties facing a younger generation of athletes.

"Society equates money with maturity," he said. "Society feels that if you have money and material things, there is no way in the world you should do this or do that. But money gives you more of an opportunity to do what you would normally do.

"When you have all that money and all that fame, people assume you don't need help."

Great players come and go. Indeed, the N.F.L. is built on a steady infusion of great young talent. But in Curtis Martin, the league has lost one of its great go-to guys. His presence will be difficult to duplicate.

NFL, union unveil plan for needy retired players

2007-07-27T17:17:00.000-04:00

Fund to cover costs of joint surgeries

By Ken Murray
Baltimore Sun Reporter

July 27, 2007

For the third time in the past 13 months, the NFL and the NFL Players Association this week announced new initiatives designed to relieve financial strain on needy retired players.

One day after league commissioner Roger Goodell and union executive director Gene Upshaw met with 11 former players, the NFLPA unveiled a $7 million fund that will offer free surgery for joint replacement to uninsured retired players.

It was part of a four-point plan that also will attempt to simplify and expedite the application process for disability benefits, a major complaint of aging retirees.

While the financial commitment promised to lessen the burden on retirees, it did not entirely satisfy the rank and file who feel they have been treated unfairly by the union.

"I think that's a very good start," Hall of Fame linebacker Harry Carson said. "But ultimately it's going to come around to the pension issue for the players. Even if a guy isn't dealing with the problems of disability, when you look at the pension of retired NFL players, it still lags behind other sports that don't have the same brutality as professional football."

The $7 million comes from unspecified contributions from each of the five factions in a program Goodell introduced in May to coordinate medical support services for former players. Those factions include the NFL, the NFLPA, the NFL Retired Players Association, NFL Alumni, NFL Charities and the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

In a statement issued by Fourth & Goal, a national advocacy group in Baltimore for retired players, organization president Bruce Laird, a former Colt, questioned how far the $7 million would stretch in medical payments.

"I'll defer comment on the details of any proposed plan until I've had a chance to read the document," the statement said. "I'm surprised, though, that the NFL and the NFLPA have found $7 million for the more than 9,100 retired players who built both the league and the union.

"Seven million dollars - an amount equal to what the union's executive director reportedly earned last year - works out to about $760 per retired player."

Dr. Andrew Tucker, Ravens team physician and chief of sports medicine for Union Memorial Hospital, estimated that joint replacement surgeries may cost between $20,000 and $30,000.

NFL spokesman Greg Aiello said in an e-mail that the $7 million represents an "initial pooling of funds into a central fund. The fund will be built from there."

The launching of the fund nevertheless appeared to show Upshaw's willingness to work toward alleviating the problems of retired players. In a statement issued by the NFLPA, Upshaw acknowledged the need to expedite the process for disability benefits, which can sometimes take as much as two years.

"Today's announcement builds on our record of continually improving retired players' benefits for well over a decade," Upshaw said. "Both the NFLPA and NFL recognize that disabled former players need to get the benefits they deserve more quickly, and we've committed to doing just that."

This week, Upshaw retained former President Bill Clinton's special counsel Lanny Davis and his law firm, Orrick, Herrington & Sutcliffe, to advise him on legal issues and media coverage related to NFL retirees' benefits and other matters.

When the league and union announced pension increases a year ago, they also started a program to help former players with dementia and Alzheimer's disease. The 88 Plan - named for former Colts tight end John Mackey, who suffers from dementia - will provide up to $88,000 a year for institutional care or up to $50,000 a year for in-home nursing care.

"We all recognize the contributions made by those who played in the NFL," Goodell said in a statement. "I fully share Gene's commitment to those men and their families. These programs will be part of a continuing package of improved medical-related services for retired players."

Former union leader and ex-Baltimore Colts linebacker Stan White was appreciative of the new coverage.

"I think these are areas that needed to be improved, the disability and the red tape to get to disability," White said. "Disability is unfair to former players at this point, the way it's executed. There was no reason [for the union or league owners] to fight it the way it's been fought."

NFLPA spokesman Carl Francis said the union was in discussion about different options for improving the disability process.

"As we continue to explore the area of disability, we'll continue to listen to ways to streamline that area," he said.

DITKA AND RETIRED PLAYERS RESPOND TO NFLPA & NFL ANNOUNCEMENT

2007-07-27T14:38:00.000-04:00

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE
July 27,2007

For more information contact:
Jennifer Smith (920) 499- 7133 gridirongreats24@aol.com

NFL RETIRED PLAYERS ADVOCACY GROUPS SPEAK OUT ON ALLIANCE MEETING WITH GENE UPSHAW AND ROGER GOODELL

DITKA & GRIDIRON GREATS ASSISTANCE FUND SAY: MEETINGS ARE ANOTHER NFL DIVERSION TACTIC
INVITED ATTENDEES ARE JUST MORE SMOKE AND MIRRORS
ANNOUNCED INITIATIVES LACK SUBSTANCE, DON’T ADDRESS REAL ISSUES

Chicago, Illinois, July 27th -Today MIKE DITKA and the GRIDIRON GREATS ASSISTANCE FUND issued a strong statement in response to a meeting held by NFLPA Union Chief Gene Upshaw and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell regarding issues facing retired NFL Players and an announced alliance to deal with those issues.

The NFL and NFLPA held meetings this week that were touted as bringing together pro football’s leadership on retired player’s issues, eleven retired players were invited to attend the meeting. Roger Goodell stated that he thought it was productive and said, “We had people in attendance who have taken issue with what has been done for retired players. I think we had all the stakeholders there.” The Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund and other advocacy groups are more than suspicious.

The Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund is a nonprofit, humanitarian organization which is overseen by a board of directors consisting of many players who are advocates of retired NFL players’ rights including: Mike Ditka, Gale Sayers, Joe DeLamielleure, Harry Carson, Willie Davis, and Tom Nowatzke. The organization provides immediate aid and support services to retired NFL players who are in dire need due to lack of adequate disability, medical, and other issues.

In response to the "meeting," Mike Ditka, other board members of the Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund, and a variety of long-time advocates for retired player’s reacted viscerally.

“I don’t believe any of the stakeholders where there. The meeting had no substance. If Gene Upshaw and Roger Goodell wanted the meeting to have substance, members of the Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund board would have been invited to attend. Not one member of our board was asked to attend that meeting,” said Mike Ditka, GGAF Board Member. “If they wanted the meetings to have substance, NFL Players who have been long-time advocates of retired players rights such as former Baltimore Colt Bruce Laird, GGAF board members Joe DeLamielleure or Harry Carson would have been there. Most importantly, players and their families who have had to fight an inadequate disability system and bad pensions would have been there such as Brent Boyd, Mike Webster’s son Garrett, Mike Mosley, Brian Demarco, Conrad Dobler, and Herb Adderley. I could name countless others. Were any of them there? Judging by the attendees invited to this meeting it was clear that the NFL and the NFLPA are not that interested in conducting meetings with substance that will bring about the major changes that are needed. Where were the owners?”

“While the NFL and the NFLPA may have good intentions I feel the owners of these franchises need to step up and take some action”. said Hall Of Famer and GGAF Board Member Gale Sayers. “These players helped to build the individual franchises and were a vital part of the organizations they played for. They gave themselves to the team and the communities they played in. The owners should support and care for the players in need who played for their franchise.”

In response to Gene Upshaw’s statements: “There will be a joint effort and one single place to go as it relates to retired players; we are in a position to move forward as one in the alliance. We want to work as one single voice,” The Gridiron Greats organization issued this statement:

The Gridiron Greats as an organization is not standing alongside of Gene Upshaw and not speaking with one voice. The voices that need to be heard are those of the retired players who are suffering, have lived on the streets, used up all their earnings on medical payments, and have to deal with these desperate situations day in and day out –not some hand picked NFL committee of retired players that were selected for their name recognition, celebrity status, and political correctness. It is the opinion of The Gridiron Greats Organization that the meetings held by the NFL and the NFLPA were yet another diversion tactic by the NFL and an attempt to not deal with core issue of overhauling a broken, and what some call corrupt, disability system. The results of the meeting, an announcement of “new retired player’s benefits initiatives” lacked substance, details and does not address the core issues.

Brent Boyd, a retired, dire need player to which GGAF will be providing assistance, had these comments about the meeting and those who were chosen to attend as so called representatives of retired players like him. “I have never seen more smoke than what came out of Tuesday's meeting at NFLPA headquarters. Not only was it a smokescreen to keep real problems out of view, it was a "controlled back fire" intended to burn some of the fuel that has been catching the attention of Congress, the fans, and former players. Did this meeting address fixing the fraudulent NFL Disability claim processes, or how to go back and reverse the most egregious false denials? Did they invite ONE former player who has had to pick asphalt out of their hair after a homeless night's sleep? Have any of Frank Gifford’s or the others in the room had their kids' teeth pulled because they didn't have money to fix a minor dental problem? All because the NFL disability Board was dragging their feet. If not, then don't blow more smoke by telling everyone that retired players and the NFLPA speak as one voice. That is yet another insult to all of us who have suffered without a voice, we are not willing to let these dog and pony shows take the public, the media, or the United States Congress off the scent of their fraud and corruption”

Gene Upshaw stated that “these meetings were a first step in identifying players in need.”

The Gridiron Greats Organization invites Gene Upshaw, or his staff, to contact our office. We would be happy to provide them with a long list of players who are in immediate dire need so the NFLPA can immediately start assisting them. The Gridiron Greats office takes calls all day long from retired players in need. It is our experience that you do not have to have a meeting to identify players in need; unfortunately there are many, many such players all over the country. While Upshaw and Goodell were noticeably absent from the recent Congressional hearings about retired players issues, members of Upshaw’s staff were in attendance. They could have identified a lot of retired players in need from the many that traveled to Washington DC and were in attendance that day hoping that the United States Congress would step in and help them to get the benefits they need.

Neither the Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund, nor any of its board members, is a part of this NFLPA, NFL alliance; neither are members from any of the others advocacy organizations who have been involved in retired players’ rights issue for many years. The Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund is an independent organization and it will remain that way. The organization is committed to raising money and providing immediate financial support and services to retired players in dire need and working with others such as Bruce Lairds, Fourth and Goal group and the Retired Players for Justice group to help bring about significant and major changes in the area of retired players rights and benefits.

Jerry Kramer facilitated the start of the GGAF organization but is not a member of the Gridiron Greats Board of Directors. But, his heartfelt, humanitarian, efforts got the GGAF started. Kramer was invited to attend the meeting and he participated in the meeting as an individual and not as a representative of the Gridiron Greats Assistant Fund. Kramer’s choice to attend the meeting, and his comments, are reflective of his personal opinion and not that of the Gridiron Greats Organization.

“I am grateful to Jerry for asking me to be a part of the GGAF Board but I called Jerry and told him that I, along with some of the other board members, did not think it was a good idea for him to attend the meeting. It was my feeling that nobody from our board was going to the meeting and neither should he. I felt the meeting was a PR ploy,” said former Super Bowl winner with the Colts and GGAF Board member Tom Nowatzke. “The Gridiron Greats are out there helping many players who are suffering because of the inadequate systems that are being administered by the NFLPA. It is my opinion, and that of some others on our board, that we need to stay focused on our mission and that it is pointless to join them in these meetings.”

“The meeting was pointless because the right people were not asked to participate and the outcome was, as I expected empty gestures that don’t fix the overall problems with disability and pensions,” said GGAF Board member Joe DeLamielleure. “The GGAF is also working with and supporting the efforts of advocacy groups such as Fourth and Goal and Retired Players for Justice. We are committed to supporting their efforts to bring about the significant and meaningful changes that are needed.”

“It’s certainly not our first step in addressing the issues and concerns of retired players. Fourth & Goal has advocated and raised funds for retired players for more than three years, since witnessing how the union turned its back on John Unitas and John Mackey and dozens of other retired players,” said Bruce Laird, president of Fourth & Goal. “We’re extremely disappointed that those of us who have been out in front of these issues were again excluded from any dialogue. Thus, retired players continue to have no representation, no vote and no voice in the NFL or the NFLPA. Fourth & Goal will continue to partner with Gridiron Greats to address the needs of our teammates and to change a flawed system.”

“These meetings are just more of the NFL strategy of delay, deny, and hope they die,” said Bernie Parrish of Retired Players For Justice. “Google the names of the 11 players that were invited to attend this meeting as representatives for retired players, you will find that 10 out of the 11 have never been connected to, or significantly involved in, the issues of retired players rights and one was mentioned only in conjunction with dire need issues.”

“There are a multitude of problems facing retired players,” said Jennifer Smith, Executive Director of the Gridiron Fund. “The problems are vast and range from inadequate disability benefits and pensions to depression, addiction to pain medications, homelessness, and poverty. We are helping players who are dealing with all of these issues.”

The GGAF fund has provided financial aid and support services to retired players who have had their lifetime disability revoked, players who have been denied disability multiple times, players in need of shelter, and families who need support just so they can care for a former player or bury a spouse. The Gridiron Greats organization relies on public and corporate support. Currently, there’s a donation drive underway. The public can learn about specific players in dire need, make a donation, read in depth reaction, and post comments at gridirongreats.org. Donations can also be made by calling 1-800-708-1078.

Goodell and Upshaw Meet With Ex-Players

2007-07-25T17:35:00.000-04:00

By Les Carpenter
Washington Post Staff Writer
Wednesday, July 25, 2007

After months of complaints from retired NFL players who believe the league and the players' union have abandoned them, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell and NFL Players Association Executive Director Gene Upshaw met with a group of former players yesterday to discuss those issues.

But in the collection of past players at the meeting that included Frank Gifford, Merlin Olsen and Cornelius Bennett, only former Packer Jerry Kramer represented the vocal group of retirees who have spoken out about the league's pension plan and a disability system they insist is designed to deny most claims.

Three hours later, when they emerged, Upshaw and Goodell had little to announce other than that they had talked. They said they would focus on joint replacement, a dire-needs fund, a cardiovascular health program and the establishment of some kind of assisted-living arrangement. But they said they would not build a retirement home for disabled football players, something that has been discussed by the
league and union for years.

"We didn't solve all the problems," Kramer said. "We've got some more things to do."

In many ways, the meeting -- pushed for by Goodell -- seemed to be an effort by the league and the players' association to show they are addressing the issue of retired players. The subject flared up at the Super Bowl and never died down as studies came out showing potential long-term effects of concussions and former players told stories of their difficulty in obtaining disability payments. Many blamed the
league and the union for creating a system that blocked them from collecting.

Upshaw and Goodell said that by bringing together the NFL Alumni organization, Pro Football Hall of Fame and NFL Charities into a group they call "the alliance," more money will be available to provide assistance to players who need it. When asked how much that would take, Upshaw said, "It's the $64,000 question, maybe the $64 million
question." Then he said that by pulling together the various league entities along with Kramer's Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund, they would be able to draw money from several entities and put them under a single umbrella.

Goodell and Upshaw already have agreed to let those players who have qualified under Social Security disability standards receive NFL disability, saying this could help solve the problem of injured former players. But because those standards have yet to be applied, it's hard to know how many players it will help.

Kramer has been chastised by many in his organization, including former New York Giants star Harry Carson, for agreeing to take part in yesterday's meeting. Many in the retired players movement have looked skeptically at the meeting as a public relations ploy by the league and union to deflect criticism. Kramer said he too was concerned about his decision and worried about it on Monday night in a conversation
with Olsen.

As the meeting convened yesterday, Kramer said Olsen accosted Upshaw by asking if the meeting was "a dog and pony show or are we going to come up with a solution?"

Upshaw replied, "Forget the yelling and see if we can intelligently look at it."

Kramer said he was encouraged by Upshaw's response.

Bernie Parrish, the unofficial leader of the retired players movement, was not.

"The people they had there are a bunch of self-promoting, owner kisser-ups," said Parrish, who was not invited to the meeting.

Parrish has repeatedly said he wants the NFL players' pensions to match those of baseball (which are significantly higher but also require players to wait until they are 62 to collect) and have the disability system overseen by a firm other than the Groom Law Group, which has done work in the past for the NFLPA.

"When the owners open up their checkbooks and start writing checks for a pension plan like baseball's and trash the disability plan and rewrite it, then they will be doing something," Parrish said.

Sides take first step

2007-07-25T17:33:00.000-04:00

by Ron Snyder, The (Baltimore) Examiner
2007-07-25 07:00:00.0
WASHINGTON -

Former Green Bay Packer Jerry Kramer is willing to give NFL Players Association Executive Director Gene Upshaw the benefit of the doubt when it comes to aiding retired players.

At least for now.

Kramer was among 11 retired players who joined Upshaw and NFL commissioner Roger Goodell Tuesday to discuss improvements for former players dealing with financial problems stemming from medical conditions sustained during their NFL careers.

It marked the first official meeting of a new alliance formed in May.

Assisted living, joint replacement surgeries and cardiovascular care were three areas the alliance pledged to improve. Upshaw said the meeting was the first step toward identifying players in need and bringing the many factions fighting for the same cause together.

"This will be the first time there will be a joint effort one single place to go as it relates to retired players," said Upshaw following the closed-door meeting. "We are now in a position as a group to move forward as one in the alliance."

The meeting represented the latest chapter between the NFL, the NFLPA and former players on how to improve medical benefits for former players.

Many former players, including former Baltimore Colts defensive back Bruce Laird, have criticized Upshaw's handling of the issue. Laird was not invited to participate in the meeting.

However, former players at the meeting view Upshaw more favorably.

Still, several former players acknowledged the issue is far from being resolved.

"This alliance between the NFL, the NFLPA, the Hall of Fame as well as the alumni is a substantial step in the right direction," said former Republican Vice Presidential candidate and Buffalo Bills quarterback Jack Kemp, who headed the AFL Players Association from 1964-69. "There is more that has to be done. We don't want any current player or retired player to think we have solved all the problems today."

Kramer had been one of the more outspoken retirees critical of Upshaw, but is now optimistic Upshaw can improve the NFL's medical benefits for former players.

"I believe we created enough awareness and burs under the saddle to the point that we were noticed," Kramer said. "It appears to me that the new commissioner is working on solving the problem with an open and forthright manner."

Commissioner Goodell, players union Upshaw meet with retirees

2007-07-25T17:27:00.000-04:00

A new assistance program is set up to help former NFL players with critical health and financial issues.

By Greg Johnson, L.A. Times Staff Writer
July 25, 2007

WASHINGTON - NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell and players union chief Gene Upshaw sat side by side Tuesday and detailed a planned coalition that will try to ease suffering among former athletes who have fallen on hard times.

Their joint appearance at the NFL Players Assn. headquarters here was an attempt to calm what has been an escalating battle of words.

"The most important thing about what is taking place today is this group of retired players and the players' union understands the plight of retired players and we want to work as a single voice, a single group, to improve the plight of retired players," Upshaw said. "We care about them."

His comments followed a three-hour closed-door meeting that brought together pro football's leadership, representatives from the league's four main charities and 11 former players, including Jack Kemp, Jerry Kramer, Merlin Olsen, Steve Largent and Frank Gifford.

As part of the plan announced Tuesday, a new assistance program will be created that will address several critical health and financial issues, including - in the longer term - some sort of assisted living help. The program will draw an unspecified amount of funding from the league, the union and charities affiliated with professional football.

All of this comes amid a growing wave of protest from former football stars who allege that the pension and disability programs for older NFL retirees are broken and that the league and the players union are not doing enough.

But Goodell was pleased all sides finally had come together.

"I think it was a very productive afternoon," he said. "I think we had all the stakeholders there. We had people who obviously had taken issue with what's been done for the retired players."

The coalition will focus on a handful of broad concerns: an orthopedics program for retirees with knee, hip and shoulder problems; a more-stringent cardiovascular screening system to alert retirees to potential problems; a heftier dire needs fund for retirees facing financial difficulty and, eventually, making assisted living care
available to players with dementia and Alzheimer's disease.

The coalition also plans to continue studying ways to improve pension and medical disability programs offered to NFL retirees.

But those at the meeting acknowledged that big questions remain.

For example, it still must be determined how many former players are in need of medical care and financial assistance and what the price tag will be for such a broad relief effort.

And, while the 11 former players in attendance Tuesday voiced unanimous support for the coalition, it was uncertain how some of the most vocal critics would respond since none were invited.

For example, such former players as Joe DeLamielleure and Bernie Parrish, whose stinging comments helped take the battle public, were not there, prompting one former player to suspect that the coalition "is only going to be so much more window dressing."

Kramer, a former Green Bay Packers lineman who formed Gridiron Greats Assistance Foundation to help NFL retirees in need, acknowledged some of the foundation's board members had cautioned him against attending Tuesday's meeting.

Kramer, though, left the meeting in an upbeat mood.

"Going in, I thought we were going to get snowballed, steamrolled, sandbagged and a bunch of other different things," Kramer said after the news conference. "I'm very encouraged. I think we have a ways to go because I don't think we could solve all of the problems in one fell swoop, in one afternoon meeting."

During the meeting, Olsen, a former Los Angeles Ram, bluntly asked Upshaw whether the coalition really would do what was needed to assist retired players in need.

Kramer said that Olsen cautioned Upshaw against rolling out "a dog-and-pony show."

After the meeting, Olsen said he was confident that the league and union were serious about helping aging former players.

Upshaw said it was time to put aside bickering and hard feelings: "We are now in position as a group to move forward as one in this alliance."

Kemp, president of the American Football League Players Union during the 1960s, said the coalition is "a tremendous step in the right direction. There's more that has to be done, and we don't want any current or retired player to think that we've solved all the problems today."

Goodell, when asked whether the coalition was forged in response to the public frustration being registered by retired players, said it was driven by "our continued focus on always doing things better."

NFL adversaries try to resolve retiree funding

2007-07-24T17:57:00.000-04:00

Today's meeting includes disgruntled former players, union leaders, league officials and NFL charities.

By Greg Johnson
L.A. Times Staff Writer

July 24, 2007

Every year, professional football donates tens of millions of dollars to community organizations, charitable groups and other nonprofits. But IRS filings show that only a tiny percentage of that funding is earmarked for charities that can specifically help former NFL players who've fallen on hard times.

That rankles a growing number of these aging warriors, who are engaged in a bitter and increasingly public battle with the NFL establishment over the plight of the men who made the game what it is today. Some retirees are struggling with financial and medical problems and are blaming pension and disability plans for having fallen short.

This afternoon the battle moves to the Washington, D.C., headquarters of the NFL Players Assn., where chief Gene Upshaw will be host of a closed-door meeting with a handful of former players and representatives from the league and NFL-related charities. The group will include NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, who has outlined plans for a coalition that would help former players in dire need.

Former New York Giants star Frank Gifford, 76, who helped found the union, will be at today's meeting. Gifford is glad all sides are finally sitting down.

"Something's not right here, and everyone - the league, owners, former players and fans - all need to get involved," he said.

A number of former players say it's about time.

"It's hard to say this without sounding like a jerk, but it's a slap in the face to retirees when there's $80 million for Pop Warner football, but not enough for people in dire need," said Brent Boyd, who was a guard for the Minnesota Vikings between 1980 and 1986 and ties his inability to hold down a job to having suffered so many
concussions during his playing days.

Boyd received $5,000 from a charitable trust operated by the NFL Players Assn. several years ago when he was homeless and has said he is grateful. But the 50-year-old former UCLA star said the cash-rich sport must do more.

"Charity begins at home, right? But I guess the camera opportunities are not good for the league when they're having to deal with homeless, crippled ex-players."

That football's charitable giving practices are under attack is just another measure of the growing anger among retired gridiron stars, including Hall of Famers Herb Adderley, Mike Ditka and Sam Huff.

The meeting follows months of pitched rhetoric.

Early last month, for example, Upshaw, who became the NFLPA's executive director in 1983 and was reelected in March, fired back at one of those aging veterans, Joe DeLamielleure. A fellow Hall of Famer, DeLamielleure has been sharply critical of Upshaw over retiree benefits. That criticism prompted Upshaw to tell the Philadelphia
Daily News last month: "A guy like DeLamielleure says the things he said about me, you think I'm going to invite him to dinner? No. I'm going to break his ... neck."

Within days of that comment, a House subcommittee hearing was called to look into the escalating battle.

Goodell, already dealing with cases of player misconduct, would not comment on Upshaw's threatening words but made it clear he wanted a solution. A few days before that House hearing, Goodell called for today's meeting and Upshaw later agreed to play host.

But it was in that hearing on Capitol Hill that Rep. Linda T. Sanchez (D-Lakewood) zeroed in on the heart of the matter, asking why only 3% of past and present NFL players receive disability payments even though "half of all players retire because of injury [and] 60% of players suffer a concussion."

Also expected to attend today's meeting are representatives from pro football's four main charities - the NFLPA's Professional Athletes Foundation, the Hall of Fame's Enshrinee Assistance Foundation, the NFL Alumni Dire Need Charitable Trust and NFL Charities.

According to the most recent IRS records available, these four had cumulative assets of about $27 million in 2005. That year, the reports indicate, the groups distributed about $11 million.

But they are dwarfed by the NFL Youth Football Fund, a separate entity jointly funded by the league and union that promotes the game at the grassroots level. As of March 31, 2006, the fund reported $79.6 million in assets and, between 2001 and 2004, donated $87.5 million to youth and scholastic football programs nationwide.

Former players interviewed for this article generally lauded the league and union for supporting youth-oriented charities. But some also faulted football for failing to show more empathy for old-timers facing severe financial and medical problems.

And some are taking action.

Former Green Bay Packers star Jerry Kramer recently created the Gridiron Greats Assistance Foundation. Ditka operates his own charitable organization, and Bruce Laird, who spent most of his career with the Baltimore Colts, leads Fourth & Goal, a nonprofit that assists needy NFL retirees.

Laird, who was not invited, doubts that today's meeting will lead to substantive change.

"They've had many, many years to address this problem, and they continue to hide from it," he said.

Bernie Parrish, another vocal critic, also is not invited.

"We've got people living in storage units and other guys in dire need," said Parrish, who has created a nonprofit, Retired Players for Justice, an advocacy group. "And the league says, 'We'll fund flag football,' to the tune of $100 million or whatever. They keep saying they want to make the world a better place, but that seems to mean as long as they keep all the money, the world is a better place."

Upshaw repeatedly has defended the union's pension and medical disability plans, as well as its charitable record.

"Last year, this office contributed $1.2 million to 147 needy players," Upshaw said.

The grants helped to cover such financial needs as housing costs, medical bills, burial expenses and tuition. So far this year, the NFLPA has distributed $250,000 through the Players Assistance Trust, a charitable operation funded by the league and union.

The NFLPA and the NFL also have funded the 88 Fund, which provides financial support for former players diagnosed with Alzheimer's disease and dementia, medical conditions that many retirees believe to be a direct result of constant hard hits absorbed while playing the game.

Since the 88 Fund rules were published early this year, the NFLPA has approved 35 applications, Upshaw said, and expects to quickly clear 19 additional requests for the grants that can total up to $88,000 a year for players who are institutionalized.

In an ironic twist, old-timers also benefit from the NFL's string of embarrassing moments because a portion of fines assessed against active players is forwarded to the NFLPA's Professional Athletes Foundation and distributed to retirees.

According to IRS documents, the foundation had $12.9 million in assets at the end of 2005 and in that year distributed $1.2 million in grants to former players and to youth-oriented groups.

Two of the other nonprofits at today's meeting have little in the way of financial assets.

One is the Pro Football Hall of Fame Enshrinee Assistance Fund, which had about $117,000 in assets at the end of 2005, according to IRS documents. It distributed less than $20,000 to needy Hall of Famers during the two-year period that ended Dec. 31, 2005.

The fund's donations "quadrupled" during the past year, however, according to Hall of Fame President Steve Perry, who credited an outreach program that identifies and assists needy Hall of Famers. Former Los Angeles Rams lineman Tom Mack and former Buffalo Bills lineman Billy Shaw, both Hall members, recently agreed to serve as
liaisons.

Simply having money available isn't always enough, Perry said, because many former players "try to do it all on their own as a matter of pride."

The second is the NFL Alumni Dire Need Charitable Trust, which reported about $886,000 in net assets at the end of its fiscal year on March 31, 2005, according to an IRS filing. During 2005, the trust made $92,718 in grants to "provide financial assistance to former NFL players and coaching staff members suffering from financial and/or medical hardship," according to the filing.

Then there is NFL Charities, the best known and largest of the four nonprofits. It reported $13 million in net assets as of March 31, 2005, and that year steered $6.5 million in grants that focus largely on education and youth services. The nonprofit also funded sports medicine research and foundations created by current and former
players.

Yet professional football's charitable works extend beyond the four main organizations that will attend today's meeting. Each year, for example, the NFL donates broadcast time with a value of about $30 million to the United Way. Various NFL alumni chapters also raise money for charity through golf outings, and hundreds of current and former players operate nonprofits that draw financial support from the
league and union.

Some owners and teams also operate nonprofits. A foundation created by Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones, for example, reported $20 million in assets at the end of 2005. And the Cleveland Browns Foundation reported $446,000 in assets at the end of that year.

Perry, the Hall of Fame president, said today's meeting could lead to the creation of a "cornerstone" upon which a strong charitable alliance can be built.

"One of the best ways to address the issues that have been raised is by a collaborative effort with all of the parties working in good faith to do the best that we can," Perry said.

Yet even the player roster for this meeting - including Roger Staubach, Willie Lanier and Jack Kemp - has sparked controversy because the most vocal critics won't be there.

"Does that surprise you?" asked Parrish, 72, who has filed a civil lawsuit alleging financial misdealings by leadership of the union he helped to establish decades ago while playing defensive back for the Cleveland Browns.

Kramer knows there is anger.

"Some of the guys said I shouldn't attend," he said, "but I tell them that we've been trying to get them to talk for more than a year, so I'm going to go and listen.... But these guys are not going to go gentle into that good night if we don't come away with some good solutions."

Gifford, for one, is determined to find a solution.

"There's enough money in this game, with more coming in all the time," he said. "Everyone will feel a lot better about it when they do it."

Vick is topic of discussion after NFL, union form alliance to help retired players

2007-07-24T17:51:00.000-04:00

By Howard Fendrich, AP Sports Writer

WASHINGTON - NFL commissioner Roger Goodell and players' union head Gene Upshaw met with nearly a dozen former players Tuesday to discuss a new joint effort to look into disability pay and health care for retirees.

Afterward, it was Michael Vick whose current off-field troubles became the focus of Goodell's news conference. The Atlanta Falcons quarterback was told to stay away from training camp after being indicted on federal charges of sponsoring a dogfighting operation.

Goodell wasn't surprised which topic drew more questions.

"From the moment you read that indictment, it turns your stomach," the commissioner said. "There's obviously a great deal of interest in this. It struck very much an emotional chord. We hear our fans very clearly."

The pension and disability systems haven't drawn nearly the attention Vick's case has, of course, but Goodell and Upshaw have faced criticism from past players. Upshaw billed Tuesday's nearly three-hour session at union headquarters as the first meeting of an NFL-NFLPA alliance that also includes the Hall of Fame and NFL Alumni.

"Some great work has been done before this," Goodell said, "and this is a natural evolution of trying to do things better."

The three main issues discussed Tuesday were joint replacement surgery, cardiovascular care and assisted living.

"The most important thing about what is taking place today is this group of retired players and the players' union understands the plight of retired players and we want to work as a single voice, a single group, to improve the plight of retired players," Upshaw said. "We care about them."

Former players who attended included Jack Kemp, Frank Gifford, Cornelius Bennett, Merlin Olsen, Steve Largent and Jerry Kramer.

"I'm very encouraged with the meeting. We made some significant progress. I think we have a way's to go," Kramer said. "I don't think we could solve all the problems in one fell swoop and one afternoon meeting, but we have started on the problems."

Some retired players have been openly critical of the NFL and the union over the amount of money older retirees get from a $1.1 billion fund set aside for disability and pensions.

Two of the most vocal critics, Mike Ditka and Bernie Parrish, weren't present Tuesday.

"We're beyond all of the name-calling," Upshaw said. "We are now in the process of doing."

Goodell described the new effort as something "where players can come and get private, confidential assistance or be directed where they can get that through our system, a way to create a single funding source where we can pool our efforts ... and find new revenue that can go into this fund."

He and Upshaw also spoke about the importance of research to find out what former players need what sort of assistance.

"What we need to do is communicate better with one another and communicate better with the former players to try to be responsive to their needs," Goodell said.

And, with that, the questions about Vick began.

Goodell said he might meet with Vick, and that he wasn't sure how long the league's review of the case would take. Upshaw said the NFLPA has "had a number of calls. We've had every kind of e-mail you can think of, and they're not good. They're not good at all. Obviously this has struck a nerve."

Goodell was asked whether it's a priority to wrap up the league's review of Vick's case before the regular season begins.

"It's a priority to get all the facts as clear as possible as quickly as possible. We are well aware of the fact the season is fast approaching," Goodell said. "We would like our fans talking about football rather than this kind of an issue."

UF uses technology in dealing with concussions

2007-07-16T16:40:00.000-04:00

By BRANDON ZIMMERMAN
(Gainesville, Fla.) Sun

Chris Leak thought he had suffered a concussion. Turns out, his self-diagnosis apparently was wrong.

The University of Florida quarterback suffered a blow to the head during last year's 21-14 win over Georgia in Jacksonville. Leak, who is now on the Chicago Bears, said he played nearly the entire game with blurred vision and a headache. After the game, Leak told Meyer he thought he'd suffered a concussion. But UF doctors and trainers
evaluated Leak and told him his injury was nothing more than a headache.

"I didn't have a concussion, but I didn't know," Leak said two days after the game. "When you get your bell rung in a game like that, you don't know what to think of it."

Concussions have become the most talked-about football injury in recent months.

As large numbers of former NFL players are diagnosed with depression, memory loss, headaches and early onset of Alzheimer's disease, the league is studying the long-term effects of the injury. And Leak's concussion-that-apparently-wasn't illustrates just how difficult it is to diagnose such head injuries.

"It's tough because there's no black and white," said Kyle Johnston, assistant athletic trainer for the UF football team. "It's something you have to be cautious with and it's something we take very seriously."

Florida has used technology to make the diagnosis and treatment of concussions easier. Like hundreds of other schools across the nation, Florida runs all its incoming players through the ImPACT (Immediate Post Concussion Assessment and Cognitive Testing) baseline test.

The computerized exam measures cognitive function, including memory and reaction time. If a head injury is suspected, players retake the exam to determine the severity.

"It tests memory, visual motor speed, reaction time, impulse control .Â .Â . these areas," he said. "We go back and test them again on these same tests (if there is a head injury). Then we can see what their visual motor skills are, what their reaction time is."

Very little can be done to prevent concussions in a sport as violent as football. Nonetheless, there are a few ways Florida uses advances in equipment. The Gators give players custom mouthpieces that can help absorb shock. A mold is taken of each player's mouth, and the mouthpieces are made specifically to conform around each player's teeth.

Florida has also taken advantage of recent helmet technology in hopes of preventing concussions. In 2002, equipment company Riddell created a new helmet called the RevolutionT. The helmet's design is different from a normal helmet in that the shell extends across a larger part of the player's jaw.

"We do the best we can to prevent them," Johnston said.

Football isn't the only sport at UF in which its players are wary of concussions. Florida's soccer team also administers the ImPACT baseline test on its players. Like football, diagnosing concussions on the soccer field is not as easy as a torn ligament or broken bone.

"Not one clinical factor can be used to diagnose concussions or determine when to return to action," said soccer team trainer Emily Kiefer.

Many traumatic brain injuries go undiagnosed

2007-07-16T09:36:00.000-04:00

Article published Jul 16, 2007

By DIANE CHUN
(Gainesville, Fla.) Sun staff writer

It's a part of the culture in the National Football League. A player "gets his bell rung" in a hard hit on the field, then assures team trainers on the sideline that he's not severely hurt.

"Put me back in, Coach."

In fact, the player may have suffered a concussion, a trauma to the brain that could haunt his later life in the form of bouts of depression, early-onset Alzheimer's disease or dementia.

Sports agent Leigh Steinberg describes traumatic brain injury as "an undiagnosed health epidemic" and "a ticking time bomb."

Apparently, NFL officials have been listening. Late last month, they called a one-day summit on concussions, asking team medical personnel, members of the league's concussion research committee and outside critics to speak candidly on the issue of brain injuries in the league.

According to the Brain Injury Association of America, football is responsible for approximately 250,000 head injuries each year. The National Football Leagues estimates there are about 100 concussions per season.

The group wrestled with the question of when a player can safely return to action on the field after suffering an apparent concussion. And, indeed, how to determine if a hard hit on the field has resulted in a brain injury.

Ron Hayes is the director of traumatic brain injury studies at the University of Florida and chief clinical program officer of Banyan Biomarkers Inc. Banyan is a Gainesville-based biomedical research company that is developing a biomarker that can tell if brain injury has occurred based on a simple blood test.

Hayes says the meeting called by the NFL to look at brain injury is "an example of popular perception come to grips with a wave of scientific evidence." The researcher adds that the same uncertainties that the NFL faces about brain injuries and the consequences "are faced by kids playing contact sports in this country and the world."

Jason Demery, a UF clinical assistant professor in clinical and health psychology, puts mild traumatic brain injury, or MTBI, in statistical perspective.

There are 1.5 million to 2 million new mild traumatic brain injuries documented each year, according to Demery, and that's probably well under the true figure, since many people who have a head injury don't seek medical attention.

The good news is that the majority of those who sustain a single MTBI go on to recover spontaneously, but there are still 10 percent to 15 percent who still have persistent, post-concussive symptoms a year after their injury, he added.

The NFL's summit provides a public platform to begin discussing the issue, he said.

The incidence of depression and emotional complications can be one of the most devastating aspects of a traumatic brain injury, Demery said.

"The research shows the incidence can be as high as 70 percent or 80 percent after a single concussive episode," he said.

The NFL requires all teams to do baseline testing to measure each player's normal brain function. The results could be compared with a similar test given after a concussion.

Demery, a neuropsychologist, said such tests won't reveal the full picture if a brain injury has occurred.

"Paper and pencil tests are good for identifying some aspects of brain dysfunction, but if you perform poorly, trying to determine what that represents is difficult."

That's where a biomarker will come in, according to Hayes. "It is inevitable. We do this routinely to diagnose every other organ dysfunction but the brain," he said.

When you show up in an ER or are taken off the playing field with a potential brain injury, he explained, it is the same ambiguous situation as if you show up with chest pain. With chest pain you could be having an anxiety attack, acid reflux or a heart attack.

The first thing the ER staff will do is draw a blood sample. After that, he said, the diagnosis can be made unequivocally. "We are on the cusp of having the same technology available for brain injury," Hayes said.

Today, a patient in the ER with a possible concussion will probably be given a CT scan. A CT is time-consuming and expensive, Hayes said, "and what you really need is a rapid blood test that says you either have a brain injury or you don't."

Hayes sees a culture in the NFL "where you don't want to tell physicians what happened. In fact, as an ex-fighter pilot, I can say the last person I wanted to have contact with was a flight surgeon. All they were going to do was take you off duty." He described a recent dinner in Washington with Mike Bragg, a retired NFL player who
spent 12 years as a punter for the Redskins. Bragg said players would tell their trainers, who'd hold up several fingers after a hard knock and ask how many they saw, "Always hold up three fingers."

"Here is a subjective test administered in a culture that doesn't want to tell the medical truth," Hayes said. "Instead, you need an organically based, objective assessment, and it will become available quite soon."

Hayes said Banyan is two or three years removed from approval of its biomarkers for traumatic brain injury. Such a biomarker will identify proteins that are present in the blood as a result of damage to the brain after a suspected concussion. Clinical trials are under way in the United States and Europe.

"The development of this blood test will benefit everyone including NFL players, children on the sports field, accident victims and American soldiers at war," he said.

NFL fumbling pensions of disabled ex-players

2007-07-15T11:04:00.000-04:00

Dorney worries about his head, Ringo suffers from Alzheimer's and Bednarik is fed up.

By Gordie Jones
(Allentown, Pa.) The Morning Call

July 15, 2007

Mostly, Keith Dorney worries about his head.

He has undergone 13 orthopedic surgeries for injuries sustained during his nine-year NFL career. His knees are bad, and getting worse. And the former Detroit Lions offensive tackle, knowing of seven ex-teammates who died before their time, took his pension at the first opportunity -- four years ago, at age 45.

But he worries most about his head.

After all, he said, he "always led" with it.

"I prided myself on violent collisions," he said.

That was true when he was growing up in Macungie and playing at Emmaus High School, true at Penn State and especially true during his pro career (1979-87).

He has not undergone a CT scan, though. He admitted over the phone the other day that that is probably not wise, that what he doesn't know might very well hurt him.

"I'm scared to get anything done," he said. "I'm just trying to throw it under the rug, and not think about it."

Dorney, who now lives in California and does seminars and motivational speeches for the Financial Knowledge Network, fears the NFL is doing the same thing in response to complaints from former players, who believe they deserve more in the way of pension and disability benefits.

And Dorney also wonders if all of the heart-wrenching tales brought to light in recent months -- including that of Phillipsburg native Jim Ringo, the retired Hall of Fame center now residing in a specialized Alzheimer's unit in Virginia Beach -- will make any difference in the way the league goes about its business.

"I am optimistic that there will be some type of change, compensation, bone thrown our way," Dorney said. "It will not be anything extraordinary. ... I'm not counting on any future revenue stream from the NFL, that's for sure."

John Spagnola is more optimistic. Spagnola, the Bethlehem Catholic graduate and former Eagles tight end whose playing career nearly mirrored Dorney's, said things began "snowballing" in November 2006, when ex-Eagles safety Andre Waters committed suicide.

Wracked by depression that was believed to be the result of repeated concussions, Waters offered another reminder of the plight of former players.

Others have emerged, or re-emerged. The Sporting News reported last month that ex-Colts tight end John Mackey, suffering from dementia (another likely side effect of concussions), performs the most basic tasks only because his wife, Sylvia, leaves notes ostensibly signed by former NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue.

ESPN.com recently profiled former Cardinals bad boy Conrad Dobler, who gobbles down Vicodin to dull the pain from his aching knees.

And Mike Ditka and Joe DeLamielleure, point men in the ex-players' fight for improved benefits, produced former Bengals and Jaguars offensive lineman Brian DeMarco for a news conference, and later a congressional subcommittee. DeMarco, unable to work because of severe back problems, has seen his family left homeless three times in the
last four years.

In the meantime, Gene Upshaw, head of the NFL Players Association, has "mismanaged" things, in the estimation of Spagnola, now an investment counselor near Philadelphia. Upshaw told the Charlotte Observer last year that he works for the current players, not the retirees, and in response to criticism from DeLamielleure told the
Philadelphia Daily News he would "break his ... damn neck."

All of this will have a telling effect on the NFL honchos, Spagnola believes.

"The only thing that will move them is public opinion," he said, "which they're very conscious of."

Judy Ringo, Jim's wife, can only hope the league is swayed. Jim, who played 15 years and coached in the NFL for 20 before his retirement in 1989, was diagnosed with Alzheimer's in 1996. Now 75, he was admitted to the treatment facility in Virginia Beach, near the couple's home in Chesapeake, last August.

Judy believes she and Jim have been "extremely fortunate." They were able to make do with pensions from Jim's playing and coaching careers, and as of February began receiving help from the "88 Plan," which was formulated by the NFL and NFLPA at the urging of Sylvia Mackey.

The plan, which gets its name from John Mackey's old uniform number, provides as much as $88,000 a year to ex-players being treated for dementia in a facility, as much as $50,000 a year to those being cared for at home.

So Judy counts her lucky stars.

"I hope the same good fortune is given to all disabled players," she said. "It's something they've earned."

But Dorney doesn't see much help coming from the league or the union. Neither does Chuck Bednarik.

"They don't give a damn about us," the legendary ex-Eagle said from his Coopersburg home. "I mean it. ... They don't care, and I don't care about them."

As Dorney noted, "They'll throw a couple bucks my way, and Spagnola's way, to get the media off their backs, and then go on with the status quo."

Retired Cleveland Browns cornerback Bernie Parrish was even more blunt at the congressional hearing on the matter last month.

"We have been betrayed," he said, according to several published reports. "Our union, [commissioner] Roger Goodell and the owners are operating a system of delay, deny and hope you die."

Neither Goodell nor Upshaw were present at the hearing, but the league representatives on hand disputed the ex-players' claims, saying that pension and disability payments have been on the rise for years.

There was, however, the admission from Douglas Ell, counsel for the NFLPA and the disability plan, that 317 ex-players receive disability benefits, out of an estimated 8,000 retirees.

"In one of the most dangerous sports in the history of mankind, only 300 players are receiving disability payments?" Rep. Maxine Waters, D-Los Angeles, asked Ell, according to the Washington Post.

As troubling as that may be, Dorney sees the bigger picture.

"There's a healthcare crisis facing our nation, not just football players," he said. "I'm almost embarrassed when people make a big deal over the injuries of ex-football players. I know construction workers and fruit workers who are in a heck of a lot worse shape than me."

For his part, Bednarik, whose Hall of Fame career stretched from 1949 to '62, said his health is "not bad."

"I turned 82 on May 1," he said. "That's just a number, as far as I'm concerned. I'm in good health. I have no problems. Thank God I've got my wife. That's the most important part. ... I think God's looking after me."

Ringo played center for the Packers and Eagles from 1953 to '67. Asked how many concussions he might have suffered, Judy said, "I think it's got to be a pretty high number. I wouldn't want to guess. I get stories now about him being on the bus [after a game] and not knowing who won. How often that happened, I have no idea."

So now Dorney worries about his head.

He had other concerns in 1987, his last year as a player. All year his right shoulder bothered him so much, he couldn't lift his arm above his head. Repeated cortisone shots enabled him to play.

After he retired, the shoulder continued to trouble him, so he called the Lions.

"The GM said, 'We believe your shoulder was injured in a non-football-related accident,'" Dorney recalled. "That was their line."

Aghast, he spoke with the trainer, who told Dorney that was standard operating procedure; the team figured Dorney was going to file suit, seeking workman's compensation. He wasn't planning to do so, but had no choice at that point.

He said that while he was rewarded a settlement in the neighborhood of $100,000, some $28,000 of that went toward his shoulder surgery.

And, he said, "I had to sign my life away, saying I would never sue the club again. ... It's a pretty sad story. I felt very betrayed at that point."

But not surprised.

"They're a corporation, trying to cut their losses," he said, "like any corporation does."

Dorney, who now lives on a 14-acre spread in Sonoma County, Calif., which he describes as "a gentleman's farm," has worn a number of hats since retirement. He has been a high school teacher and coach. He wrote a memoir last year entitled "Black and Honolulu Blue: In the Trenches of the NFL." And he plans to write a fictional book about pro football that will be ''an updated, 21st-Century version of 'North
Dallas 40.'"

Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction, though.

And many times, the endings are not happy ones.

Hall of Fame blocker is on a crusade for NFL retirees

2007-07-15T10:49:00.000-04:00

The Free Lance Star (Fredericksburg, Va.)
July 15, 2007 12:35 am
by STEVE DeSHAZO

UNLIKE MANY of his peers, Joe DeLamielleuere didn't need a cane or a walker when he visited Fredericksburg yesterday. But the Hall of Famer might need something other retired NFL players don't: a bodyguard.

DeLamielleuere, who blocked for O.J. Simpson during his glory days in Buffalo, has been one of the most outspoken critics of NFL Players Union boss Gene Upshaw. He feels the union isn't doing nearly enough to take care of the men who helped build the league into a billion-dollar business.

In response, Upshaw told The Philadelphia Daily News last month: "A guy like DeLamielleuere says the things he said about me, you think I'm going to invite him to dinner? No, I'm going to break his --- damn neck."

DeLamielleuere yesterday called that "an irresponsible statement," but that doesn't mean he's not taking it seriously--not with a wife and nine children (four of them adopted). And not when he and his wife grew up in Detroit, where unions don't mess around. He's genuinely worried more about his loved ones than himself.

Still, it's hard to find anyone who doesn't support DeLamielleuere's cause--except perhaps Upshaw and the 1,800 active players he represents.

"We've got the greatest game in the world, with the worst pension and disability [benefits]," DeLamielleuere said during a visit to the Card Cellar at Four-Mile Fork with fellow Hall of Famer Lem Barney.

"If I were a current player, I would educate myself on what these [retired] guys are complaining about. These are the guys who built this league."

What they're complaining about is a pension system that averages less than $13,000 a year per man. The NFL told The Associated Press last month that it pays out $126 million annually in pension and post-career disability benefits, but that only 317 out of more than 10,000 eligible players received disability payments last year.

Football is a violent game that pays well (in the short term), but can leave permanent damage to the body and brain.

Another Hall of Famer, Mike Ditka, has joined the chorus. He testified before Congress last month, when elected officials heard heartbreaking stories like that of former Oakland Raider Curt Marsh, who had a leg amputated and more than 30 surgeries before he was approved for disability.

Ex-Pittsburgh Steeler Mike Webster suffered from dementia that was likely caused by concussions before he died homeless in 2002. Former All-Pro Earl Campbell can barely walk. Upshaw's former linemate in Oakland, Jim Otto, can barely get out of bed because of all the damage his body suffered in 15 years.

Even Fredericksburg native George Coghill, who played just four seasons with the Denver Broncos (but absorbed some of the worst collisions on special teams) severely hyperextended his right elbow and can't fully extend his arm.

"People see you on TV and think you're set for life," Coghill said recently, "but five years later, you still hurt."

If these former players had made the millions today's stars do, it might not be an issue. But Barney never made more than $125,000 in a year before retiring in 1977. "I was a million-dollar player," he said with a smile. "I just didn't get paid like one."

DeLamielleuere's best annual paycheck was $200,000--less than half the league minimum today. And these are relatively healthy Hall of Famers. That's why they count on income from autograph signings like yesterday's.

What about the guys who don't have fame or money? Can't the union find a slice of the pie for the men who sacrificed their bodies to build the NFL into a cash cow?

Congress seemed genuinely moved by last month's gut-wrenching testimony, but there's a war on and an election coming.

New NFL commissioner Roger Goodell has set up a summit later this summer with the league, the union and retirees. But he has been busy negotiating new TV deals, disciplining current knuckleheads like Pacman Jones and Tank Johnson and pondering what he might do about Michael Vick.

What's the answer?

"I don't know," DeLamielleuere said. "I don't have a platform, other than that I'm in the Hall of Fame."

It's a good place to start. And a good fight to pursue.

Call to mind: Nowinski aggressively tackles issue of concussions in sports

2007-07-15T10:00:00.000-04:00

Boston Globe
By John Powers, Globe Staff | July 15, 2007

WALTHAM -- The e-mails come from strangers who've seen him on TV talking about concussions and the terrible damage they can cause. The mother of an NFL player who is worried because her son is no longer the same guy. A soldier asking for the name of someone who can help him. Recently, an old Illinois high school teammate called.

"He said, 'Remember me? I used to block you in practice,' " Chris Nowinski says in a conference room where he works as a consultant for Trinity Partners, a biotech and pharmaceutical consulting firm. "Now, he's suicidal."

As the issue of sports concussions has been spotlighted amid evidence that brain trauma from their playing days may have been linked to the deaths of four former NFL players, the 28-year-old Nowinski has become a prominent voice on the subject, appearing on an HBO special, talking on CNN and National Public Radio, and being quoted in major newspapers.

Nowinski has solid credentials because he's also a victim, a former Harvard football player and World Wrestling Entertainment performer who suffered at least a half-dozen concussions that eventually ended his career.

"That gives him a lot of legitimacy because he's been there and done it," says Dr. Julian Bailes ," who chairs the Department of Neurosurgery at West Virginia University and is medical director at the Center for the Study of Retired Athletes at the University of North Carolina. "He's a sufferer, also."

Nowinski has had migraine headaches, memory loss, sleeping problems, and depression. As he grows older, he could develop the more serious dysfunctions that come with chronic traumatic encephalopathy. "I'm at high risk for everything we're looking at," observes Nowinski, who says that he's still "on a lot of drugs with high copays" four years after he quit wrestling.

Nowinski's research into concussions led to his writing "Head Games," a book about what he calls football's concussion crisis, which was published last fall. Since then, he has become a visible activist, having brain samples from deceased former NFL players Andre Waters and Justin Strzelczyk analyzed to show that concussions likely contributed to their deaths.

"It's one of the few big public health issues that is easily preventable that is left out there and nobody's really taking it up," says Nowinski, who is helping establish the Sports Legacy Institute to do formal research on sports-related brain trauma. "I know all the stories. I just can't sit back and not do it."

Repeated concussions can lead to irreversible neurological damage and dementia. Yet until recently, players who'd been "dinged" or "had their bell rung" were encouraged to shrug it off and get back into the game.

"That culture works for body injuries, where it makes sense to play through bruises, because it makes you tougher," says Nowinski, who finished out a game with a broken hand in high school. "But no one ever separated that for brain injuries. I believe we're smart enough to understand the difference -- if we're told it."

Personal experience

Nowinski says he didn't understand the difference the first few times he absorbed jarring head shots. The first came during a Harvard practice when he was rushing the passer and was leveled by a helmet under his chin. "I remember feeling fuzzy that night," he says. "I kept calling people by the wrong names in the dining hall."

The second time was a helmet-to-helmet smash from a linebacker as Nowinski was returning a short kickoff during a preseason scrimmage. "When I opened my eyes, it was the first time the sky turned orange on me," he remembers. "I took a knee, I went to the sideline, and the next time my number was called, I was ready to go. I didn't know it was worth talking about."

Nowinski ended up playing for the league-champion varsity in 1997 and made second-team All-Ivy as a defensive lineman. Then, as a lark, he tried out for "Tough Enough," WWE's reality show on MTV.

"One of the trainers wanted to send me a welcome-to-the-business message," says Nowinski. "He threw me into the ropes and gave me a clothesline. I remember feeling very strange and off balance. We had a blue ceiling and it went orange on me."

But Nowinski kept wrestling and quickly made a name for himself as "Chris Harvard" (until his alma mater objected), the supercilious H-Man everyone loved to hate. His fellow members of the Class of 2000 who'd gone to New York's investment banks and trading pits were jealous, he'd joked. They were working 100-hour weeks and stressing
out while he was cavorting with Tommy Dreamer, Goldust, and his WWE playmates and making big money.

"I know this is something I could do for 10 or 20 years," Nowinski said in November 2002, just before he performed at the FleetCenter. "I wake up in the morning looking forward to my job -- that's never happened before. I don't see where this will ever get boring."

Two months later, his wrestling career was over. Nowinski just didn't realize it. During the Royal Rumble in Hartford in January, he took a kick to the chin from Bubba Dudley that knocked him halfway into December.

"When I hit the mat I had a massive headache, to the point where I forgot who was supposed to win the match," Nowinski recalls. "I was fuzzy for three weeks, but I still wrestled because I didn't know any better. I just kept trying to be a tough guy."

Soon came the headaches. Memory problems that became progressively worse. Sleepwalking. Depression set in. Yet Nowinski wrestled nearly two dozen times during the next five months, taking on Maven and Hurricane and the rest of the cast until it became obvious he was having severe problems.

"Dude, you're [messed] up," the tag-team manager told Nowinski en route to an Indiana show. "You shouldn't be wrestling anymore." That night in his hotel room, after a violent sleepwalking episode, Nowinski awakened to find himself face down on the floor amid broken glass, overturned furniture, and a terrified girlfriend.

Lasting effects

Wrestling was finished for him, but his post-concussion symptoms continued and worsened. That fall, Nowinski began doing medical research into causes and effects. "To see what was wrong with myself," he says. "Because I wasn't getting any good answers from doctors as to why I wasn't bouncing back."

Every concussion made the next one worse, Nowinski learned, and opened the door to lifelong neurological problems. And from what he gathered by talking to football buddies at Saturday tailgates and from interviewing former pros, concussions had become a crisis in the sport. "Everyone's getting them," he concluded, "and getting a lot of them."

Nowinski had agents shop around his book idea, "but the publishers thought it was too small a market," he says. Last October, Drummond published "Head Games," which has received critical applause but underwhelming sales. "People do not want the responsibility of knowing the information," Nowinski says.

But after Waters committed suicide last year, the subject suddenly became timely. Nowinski asked the player's family for a sample of his brain tissue, which Dr. Bennet Omalu , a neuropathologist at the University of Pittsburgh, analyzed.

Omalu, who'd done similar examinations on the brains of former Steelers Mike Webster and Terry Long, determined that Waters's tissue resembled that of an 85-year-old man and showed early indications of Alzheimer's disease.

Nowinski quickly found himself a go-to guy for TV and radio bookers. He'd just authored a book on the subject, he was a familiar name from his WWE days, he was a Harvard grad, and he was well-spoken and camera-friendly. "No question, having been an entertainer helps," Nowinski says.

>From the media coverage he's seen, the NFL's belated interest in concussions and recent congressional hearings on the problems of retired players, he senses that the message finally is getting through.

After former wrestler Chris Benoit killed himself and his family last month, some observers pondered whether he might have suffered brain damage during his career. "People were saying, I wonder if . . . ," says Nowinski, who knew Benoit from their WWE days. "They're open to the idea. In less than six months, it's part of the lexicon."

While Nowinski says it's "rewarding to know that so much has changed so quickly and that people are open to change," he acknowledges that institutional progress on the athletic side has been coming slowly.

"The awareness is there," Nowinski says, "but changing the culture is another undertaking."

Though the NFL held a concussion summit in Chicago last month and will establish mandatory neuropsychological testing for players, Nowinski questions whether the league will take the logical next step -- diagnosing concussions when they occur and keeping players off the field while they recover. "Concussions certainly aren't going away," he says.

Football is more violent than ever, Nowinski says, with bigger and faster people slamming into each other, and that's not likely to change. "The game is based on hitting other people as hard as you can," he says.

But the damage from multiple concussions can't be mended in the same way a blown-out knee can. "People thought, they retired, so they're fixed," Nowinski says. "They retired because they're ruined."

If medical evidence and headlines about dead former players aren't enough to change things, one big lawsuit from a player could be the catalyst. "The liability issue is a big hammer that will probably be used somewhere by somebody," Nowinski says.

It would be unfortunate, he says, if that's what it takes to make football less of a head game and stop the parade of players with neurological problems. "How many bodies do we have to find," Chris Nowinski asks, "before people take it seriously?"

Hoge has vital story for NFL

2007-07-14T10:41:00.000-04:00

by Tom Pelissero
Green Bay Press Gazette
July 14, 2007

Merril Hoge has advised many NFL players in private, but he's never had a large group sit and listen to his story.

The one where his facemask gets busted in at Soldier Field.

The one where he stops breathing in the training room.

The one where he's rushed to the ER, spends two days in intensive care and never plays football again.

Hoge wishes more people would have listened in 1994, when his NFL playing days ended at age 29. But with the league convening a meeting about concussions last month and launching a study of retired players to gauge long-term effects, Hoge is optimistic he soon will get his chance to reach a broader audience.

"Would you rather give up four weeks, or four years or 10 years or a career?" Hoge said in a phone call this past week. That's the message he sends to any player who asks about concussions, the brain injuries usually caused by blows to the head that are common in this country's most violent mainstream sport.

"Once you weigh (the options) out, four weeks is not that big a deal. Does it mean that you're not going to be losing your mind, and it's going to be hard to sit out a month? Absolutely not. It's still going to kill them."

Hoge - who will be at Oneida Golf & Country Club on Monday for the Ray Nitschke NFL Players Golf Classic, which benefits Options for Independent Living and the Jackie Nitschke Center - never missed an NFL game until the final blow.

He suffered a couple of concussions during his days with the Pittsburgh Steelers, with whom he racked up most of his 5,272 career rushing and receiving yards and 34 touchdowns. But the beginning of the end didn't come until his third preseason game with the Chicago Bears, on Aug. 22, 1994.

Hoge says he never properly was re-evaluated after suffering what he calls a "major head trauma" in that game. So, when he stumbled to the locker room and lost vital signs after cut-blocking two Buffalo Bills in a game Oct. 2 of that year, "it was over for me."

A month after he retired, Hoge went blind for 15 seconds at a wine-tasting event because the part of his brain controlling vision had been traumatized. He still has trouble at times with bright lights, concentration and memory.

"It is, in a sense, more dangerous than paralysis," Hoge said. "(If)you had a fractured vertebrae, and I said, 'Listen, you take a play, you take another shot like that, there's a good chance you're paralyzed,' there's probably not a fool in America that's going to continue to risk that."

In 2000, a jury awarded Hoge $1.55 million in a lawsuit against a former Bears team physician, but the verdict was overturned.

The NFL founded a committee on concussions the year Hoge's career ended. However, the extent of the problem will be re-examined this year because doctors and other independent researchers are linking concussions to everything from depression to death.

Now 42 and an analyst for ESPN, Hoge has met with new commissioner Roger Goodell and expects to remain involved as the NFL continues its research. He's urging the league to "create a formula that keeps players from danger and puts the pressure on the people that are responsible, which are the gatekeepers, which are the medical people,
and create another avenue where they cannot be influenced or pressured by (management) or ownership or coaching.

"I think those things are materializing," he said.

The biggest issue may be getting through to players in the tough-guy culture of pro football who know sitting out with an injury can cost them their jobs.

Hearing Hoge's story is a start.

Ex-QB Enke among fortunate few who don't need NFL aid

2007-07-13T09:38:00.000-04:00

Arizona Daily Star
Published: 07.12.2007

Opinion by Greg Hansen

Fred W. Enke is 83 now and he's a tennis nut. How much of a nut? He watches Wimbledon, start to finish. If it is on TV at 6 a.m., he is watching.

How devoted? He walked outside Tuesday and swept off, in their entirety, the tennis courts at his Casa Grande ranch. It doesn't sound like much of a task, but a week ago Enke was in a hospital bed, morphine dripping into his system, recovering from gall bladder surgery.

"Worst pain I've had in my life,'' he insists. "They took out my gall bladder in nine little pieces, through my belly button.''

When Enke says that something hurts, you believe him.

After retiring from a seven-year NFL career, quarterbacking the Lions, Eagles and Colts from 1948 to 1954, Enke ultimately required surgery to replace both knees, his right shoulder and his left hip. He also had surgery to keep his back in working condition.

"Oh, I'm not sure you can blame it all on football,'' he says, just to be interrupted by his wife, Marjorie, who adds "14 years of football, Fred, 14 years of football. What else could it have been?''

Fred W. Enke, son of legendary UA basketball coach Fred A. Enke, is perhaps the greatest Wildcat athlete of the 20th century, and if not No. 1, somewhere at the front of the Top 10. He does not regret his football days.

"If I don't take medication, I've got arthritis problems,'' he says. "But that can't be related to football, can it?''

If there is one good thing about Enke's post-football body trauma it's that he was so successful in the agricultural business that he didn't have to worry about medical bills. Unlike so many retired NFL players, who last month presented their pension/disability/economic problems at a Congressional hearing, Enke isn't worried about finances.

His monthly NFL pension is $1,400, which has been substantially upgraded several times from its original $350.

"It took us years to get anything,'' he says. "Those who played in the NFL before 1960 didn't get a dime until Pete Rozelle took our case and got the ball rolling for pensions. But I am alarmed to continue to read how many former players are disabled, or have dementia, and are in dire need these days.''

Enke's top NFL salary: $12,000. Signing bonus: $1,000.

The NFL last month announced that $126 million a year goes into post-career disability benefits for retired players. However, Hall of Famer Mike Ditka, the loudest critic of the league's pension system, discovered that just 317 of more than 10,000 eligible players receive disability payments from that fund.

Sandy Unitas, widow of Hall of Fame quarterback John Unitas, told the Congressional subcommittee that Unitas was never approved for disability benefits even though he lost functional use of his right arm.

The NFL pension issue is so provocative that Tucsonan Les Josephson, for 11 years a Los Angeles Rams fullback, says that a retired-players Web site he checks has input from more than 2,000 players.

"I'm probably one of the fortunate ones, knock on wood, that I haven't had major physical repercussions or a number of football-related surgeries,'' said Josephson, who is a mortgage company executive here. "I'll eventually have to have my knees replaced, but I wasn't one of those who got beat up real bad."

Josephson, 64, began taking his NFL pension four years ago. His highest salary over his 1964-74 career? It was $50,000. That means he didn't get wealthy playing for the Rams, nor are his retirement benefits excessive. ("Far below $100,000 a year," he says.)

He has heard the medical and financial horror stories about ex-Packers Willie Wood and defensive back Herb Adderley and about ex-Raiders center Jim Otto, among others.

"I missed one year with an Achilles' reconstruction surgery, and I had a broken jaw and two shoulder surgeries," says Josephson. "One argument against us is that we knew what we were getting into; we knew the risks. But there should come a point where some humanity is involved. If Herb Adderley truly is getting only $128 a month, as has been publicized, that's not right."

Those who played in the '50s, such as Enke and his contemporaries, began with pensions that paid $30 a month for each season of service. In retrospect, he is astonished there wasn't more permanent physical damage.

Some of his teammates eschewed thigh pads, or knee pads, afraid it would limit their mobility. Worse, facemasks weren't implemented until 1954.

"In a 1954 game against the Rams, I saw facemasks for the first time," Enke says. "We wondered what they were. We'd have guys get teeth knocked out every week. Every NFL team was spending a fortune in dental bills.

"Funny, but after that game with the Rams, all of our helmets were taken and sent to the Rawlings company in Chicago and fitted for facemasks by the next Sunday. It might not have been good for the dental industry, but it sure made playing football more safe."

Heated Debate

In the last month, Congress has held hearings on the NFL's pension and disability programs.

Some former players say the NFL provides the worst pension plan in professional sports, although football is one of the most dangerous sports.

NFL players union head Gene Upshaw has come under fire from a group of Hall of Famers that says the union has concentrated too much on current players and ignored the health problems of former players.

Congressional testimony revealed the NFL has $1.1 billion in its disability and pension fund, but has spent only $20 million.

Source: The Associated Press

A Long Walk for Those Who Responded to 9/11

2007-07-12T11:36:00.000-04:00

NY Times
July 12, 2007
Sports of The Times
By DAVE ANDERSON

If you're a Giants football fan, you remember George Martin. As a defensive end and tricaptain of the 1986 Giants along with Harry Carson and Phil Simms in their Super Bowl XXI victory, Martin tackled Broncos quarterback John Elway in the end zone for a safety. Over his 14 seasons, his six touchdowns (three on interception returns) set a
National Football League record for a defensive lineman. Coach Bill Parcells considered him a pillar of locker room leadership.

And on Martin's way to and from the practice field outside Giants Stadium, he couldn't help but see and marvel at the twin towers of the World Trade Center across the Hudson River.

On the evening of Sept. 10, 2001, Martin, returning from a business trip, was on a jetliner about to land at Newark Airport when the woman sitting next to him mentioned that she was visiting the New York area for the first time.

"See the twin towers over there," Martin told her, pointing toward the New York skyline. "Be sure you go down to Lower Manhattan to see them up close."

The next morning, when Martin turned on the television in his Ringwood, N.J., home, he saw smoke belching from one tower. Moments later he saw a jetliner crash into the other tower. One by one, he saw each tower collapse. Soon he, his wife, Dianne, and their four children - Teresa, George II, Benjamin and Aaron - learned that two 23-
year-old neighbors, Christian DeSimone and Tyler Ugolyn, had died in the terrorist attack.

"They were two of God's special angelic kids," Martin said Monday at a Giants football camp for youngsters in Wayne, N.J.

Martin, 54, has not forgotten them or those who responded to the attack: the firefighters, the police, everybody who rushed there. Through his Journey for 9/11, he hopes to raise $10 million to care for first responders who develop illnesses related to the attack and its aftermath. He plans to walk more than 3,000 miles across the nation, from the New York side of the George Washington Bridge to New
Jersey, down to Washington, south to Interstate 40, then west, eventually leading to the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.

"All those respondents unselfishly put themselves in harm's way, and they've been forgotten," he said. "People like to call football players heroes, but we're not heroes, we just play football. The last thing I want to do is open old wounds, but these unquestioned true heroes have been forgotten. It's like what John F. Kennedy said when somebody asked why somebody should do something and he said, 'Why
not?' Why shouldn't we do something for the respondents?"

Martin, the sports marketing director for AXA Equitable for the past decade, has been granted a paid leave of absence for his journey.

"I'll walk every mile; no walking a few miles and jumping in a car," he said. "I start Sept. 15, the day before the Giants' home opener. I've been training for a 50-miles-a-day clip - up early and walk 12½ miles before breakfast, do 12½ more before lunch, another 12½ and a short rest in the afternoon, then a final 12½ before dinner and bed. It should take three and a half to four months. I know I can do it."

Martin won't be alone, of course. With a budget of $150,000 for the trip, he'll be accompanied by a police escort and a support staff. His corporate sponsors include Hackensack University Medical Center, North Shore-Long Island Jewish Health Systems, Fairleigh Dickinson University, United Parcel Service, Bear Stearns, Nike, TanaSeybert, Make-A-Wish Foundation, Keyspan Energy, Hunter Douglas, the Giants,
the N.F.L. and the N.F.L. Players Association.

"I was lucky," he said. "As a football player, I never had any broken bones, never had surgery. I don't have an artificial knee or hip. I'm the antithesis of all these former N.F.L. players who have had problems, but they shouldn't be blaming Gene Upshaw and the players association. We all went into the N.F.L. knowing the average career was only about five years. We all went in with our eyes open."

Martin's eyes have always been more open than those of most pro football players. At Armijo High School in Fairfield, Calif., he was the student body president. At the University of Oregon, he was an art-education major before the Giants drafted him in the 11th round.

"When I was at Oregon, I always admired Steve Prefontaine," Martin said, referring to the world-class distance runner who died in 1975. "You'd see Steve running everywhere all over the campus, not just in track meets. It was as if he had a personal affair with nature. I won't be running, but when I'm walking across the country, I'll be
thinking of him."

And when George Martin is making his way across the nation, he'll also be thinking of all those 9/11 responders whom he's walking for.

Retired Colts skeptical of NFL plan

2007-07-11T20:53:00.000-04:00

Thanks to a tendon injury he suffered during a 1968 preseason game, Hall of Fame Colts' quarterback Johnny Unitas had to strap everything from a pen to a golf club to his once powerful hand because he had lost his once strong grip. Still, despite the debilitating injury and pain, Unitas' disability claim with the NFL was denied.

Ron Snyder, The (Baltimore) Examiner
2007-07-11 07:00:00.0

BALTIMORE -

Johnny Unitas' golden arm was nothing more than a lead weight when he died in 2002.

After suffering a tendon injury during a 1968 preseason game, the Hall of Fame Baltimore Colts' quarterback had to strap everything from a pen to a golf club to his once powerful hand because he had lost his once strong grip. Still, despite the debilitating injury and pain, Unitas' disability claim with the National Football League was denied.

That's something Jean Fugett doesn't want to see happen again. Fugett, the President of the NFL Retired Players Steering Committee, said his organization is forming an outreach group to help identify needy players and help them with their disability claims, which he describes as a cumbersome process.

"There are so many hoops to jump through," Fugett said. "Money isn't an issue as the retirement plan has $1 billion in it. 'It's the disability process that needs to be fixed.' We don't have a system in place to find these players."

Today, players appealing disability claims will appear in front of the National Football League Player's Association's retirement board, which has three management - including Ravens President Dick Cass - and three player representatives.

During a league-wide concussion summit last month in Chicago, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell said he is constantly looking for ways to improve assistance programs for retired players. He hopes a July 24 meeting with NFLPA Executive Director Gene Upshaw and a number of retired players expedite the process.

"We have been working with Gene on alternatives over the last several months, and I think we have some programs that will be responsive, particularly as it relates to potential joint replacements, which is an issue that many former players are dealing with," said Goodell during a press conference at the summit.

Former Baltimore Colt Bruce Laird, who is president of the team's retired alumni chapter, is not sure how the steering committee can accomplish its goal based on Fugett's previous comments to retired Colts players.

Laird added that Fugett said that steering committee members - an advisory group to the NFL Players Association - have no defined responsibilities, job descriptions, power, yearly budget and have no accountability to the NFL retired players chapters throughout the country.

"Jean Fugett since he took office as president of the steering committee has never addressed the rank and file of the NFLRPA," Laird said. "More than 3,100 members belong to the association and there are plenty of avenues to address the group including directories and blogs if he wanted to do so."

NFL NOTES

» NFL spokesman Greg Aiello said Baltimore Colts quarterback Johnny Unitas did not qualify for disability benefits for three separate reasons:

"First, he was already receiving retirement benefits, and the plan is clear that you can't get both types of income-replacement payments [retirement and disability] at the same time," he said. "Second, he was actually working. Third, all the doctors, including his own doctor, said that he was able to work."

» According to NFL figures, 284 former players are receiving disability payments, totaling $19 million, including some that receive as much as $224,000 annually. There are more than 9,000 former players.

Upshaw raking in $6.7 million

2007-07-11T08:57:00.000-04:00

Salary tops sports union bosses

By MICHAEL O'KEEFFE and TERI THOMPSON
NEW YORK DAILY NEWS SPORTS WRITERS

Wednesday, July 11th 2007, 4:00 AM

In 1955, then Teamsters union leader Jimmy Hoffa, easily the most infamous of all labor bosses, reported an income of $30,000. Of course, he also picked up part ownership in a brewery, a trotting track and a few summer camps, to name a few of his side jobs.

But Hoffa was poverty-stricken compared to NFL Players Association boss Gene Upshaw.

According to the Sports Business Journal, Upshaw, who has been vilified by former players angry over what they call a disability system more interested in denying claims than helping the needy, earned a whopping $6.7 million in the year ending Feb. 28, 2007.

Upshaw, who earned $4.3 million in salary and bonuses from the NFLPA and a $2.4 million bonus through the licensing unit Players Inc., according to the NFLPA's annual report filed with the U.S. Department of Labor, is the highest paid union chief in pro sports.

According to SBJ, the increased compensation came as the union negotiated a player-friendly labor deal with team owners.

"I'm sure he's laughing all the way to the bank," said Bruce Laird, a former Colts player who leads an activist NFL retiree group in Baltimore. "But the fact remains that the system for partial and permanent disability is absolutely flawed."

The NFLPA and Upshaw, whose pay is set by a 10-player committee, have recently been under pressure from retired players on issues ranging from pensions and disability benefits to licensing income.

During the same time period, SBJ reported, former Players Inc. president Doug Allen earned $1.9 million, and his wife, former Players Inc. COO Pat Allen, was paid $633,534.

"I'd love to extend an invitation to Mr. Upshaw to come to my house and see how other guys live," said Brian DeMarco, the former Jacksonville and Cincinnati lineman who suffered extensive back and leg injuries during his NFL career. His family has been homeless three times in the last four years because of medical bills from football
injuries.

"Upshaw owes his entire life to football," DeMarco says of the Hall of Famer, "and now he's stepping away from the guys he sweat with and bled with."

Upshaw's pay dwarfed that of the other union heads, including Major League Baseball Players Association chief Donald Fehr, who earned $1 million, and NBA Players Association executive director Billy Hunter, who made $2.1 million in the 12 months ending on June 30, 2006.

Neither of those unions has a licensing subsidiary comparable to Players Inc.

Former NHL Players Association executive director Ted Saskin was reportedly paid a salary of about $2.1 million before being fired in May.

Upshaw's salary even dwarfs that of his counterpart in management, Roger Goodell, who signed a five-year deal last year for a reported $4 million per year, although he lags far behind baseball's boss, Bud Selig, who earned a reported $14.5million in 2006.

NBA chief David Stern was once the highest-paid commissioner: In 1990, the New York Times reported that Stern earned $3.5 million per year. By 2003, he was making $8 million a year.

Uoshaw's compensation at least $6.7 million

2007-07-10T11:34:00.000-04:00

By DANIEL KAPLAN
Staff writer
Sports Business Journal

Published July 09, 2007 : Page 01

NFLPA Executive Director Gene Upshaw earned at least $6.7 million in compensation in the year ended Feb. 28, 2007, according to the union's annual report filed with the U.S. Department of Labor. That amount was more than double the prior year's pay for Upshaw, who ranks consistently as sports' highest-paid union chief.

The increased compensation came as the union negotiated a player-friendly labor deal with team owners. At the same time, however, the union and the executive director personally have been under tremendous public fire from retired players on issues ranging from pensions and disability benefits to licensing income.

"His pay is certainly significant if you compare it with his peers," said Ron Katz, the Manatt, Phelps & Phillips partner leading a class-action lawsuit against the NFLPA's licensing and merchandising arm, Players Inc., for failing to pay commercial benefits to retired players.

In a recent amendment to that lawsuit, the retired players allege that, "Players Inc. has ... diverted millions of dollars from Players Inc. to the NFLPA in order to support the overhead, substantial salaries and perquisites of NFLPA management and employees."

Richard Berthelsen, the NFLPA's general counsel said, "If anything, he is underpaid. ... He is paid out of the revenues generated by active players."

Upshaw's pay is set by a 10-player committee, Berthelsen said, which considers how much the NFL commissioner earns. Roger Goodell's pay has not been disclosed, but predecessor Paul Tagliabue regularly earned more than $10 million a year.

According to the union report, known in labor circles as a Form LM-2, during the fiscal year ended Feb. 28, 2007, Upshaw signed a new employment contract that ends in 2010. It marked the third time since 2003 the NFLPA extended the executive director's contract before its expiration.

Gene Upshaw compensation

Year* Amount**
2007 At least $6.7 million
2006 $3.3 million
2005 $3.4 million

* Fiscal years closing on last day of February
** Includes public information for NFLPA and Players Inc. compensation, though the fiscal year 2007 NFLPA tax return is not yet available. That means only Upshaw's Players Inc. bonus, which is disclosed in the LM-2, is included in the 2007 figure, not any additional Players Inc. pay he may have received. The tax return discloses the full Players Inc. pay and is included in the Upshaw compensation figures for 2005 and 2006. The tax return, unlike the LM-2, also discloses NFLPA benefits, which are also then not available for inclusion in the 2007 figure.
Sources: NFLPA LM-2s, NFLPA Form 990s

Upshaw earned $4.3 million in salary and bonus from the NFLPA in the 12-month period ended Feb. 28, 2007, and a $2.4 million bonus through Players Inc., according to the LM-2. His Players Inc. income is paid into a benefits account called the Grantor Trust.

He may have earned even more from Players Inc. In the two prior years, the Grantor Trust bonuses disclosed in the NFLPA's annual report were less than the total benefit Upshaw received that was disclosed in the union's tax return. For example, in the fiscal year ended Feb. 28, 2006, the LM-2 noted that he got a Players Inc. bonus of $560,000, but the tax return showed for the same period his Players Inc. benefit as
more than $1.3 million. The tax return that corresponds to the most recent LM-2 is not yet available.

The LM-2 also does not show benefits received through the NFLPA, but the tax return does. In fiscal year 2006, for example, Upshaw earned $112,145 in benefits.

Upshaw is easily the highest-paid union chief in sports. Billy Hunter, the National Basketball Players Association executive director, earned $2.1 million in the 12 months ended June 30, 2006, according to the NBPA's most recent LM-2. MLB Players Association boss Donald Fehr takes in the same $1 million salary every year. Neither union has a licensing subsidiary comparable to Players Inc. that supplements
executive income.

The NHL Players' Association does not file an LM-2 with the Labor Department nor a Form 990 tax return with the IRS because the hockey group is structured as a Canadian entity. Ted Saskin, before he was fired as executive director, was reportedly paid a salary of about $2.1 million.

Among other employees, departed Players Inc. head Doug Allen earned $1.9 million, according to the NFLPA's LM-2, a huge jump over his $446,281 compensation the previous year. His wife, Pat Allen, the now-retired Players Inc. chief operating officer, saw her pay more than double, to $633,534.

Players Inc., meanwhile, saw its strong growth in licensing and sponsorship slow. In the 12-month period ending Feb. 28, 2006, income from licensing, sponsorship and player appearance fees rose 20 percent to $108 million, according to an analysis of the union's annual reports. In the year ended Feb. 28, 2007, the revenue rose 6.5
percent, to $115 million. Much of the increase derived from an increase in sponsorship money delivered to the union through the NFL.

Several categories, including fantasy sports (see story below) and video games saw decreases. Electronic Arts, the largest single source of revenue, paid $28 million in licensing and sponsorship fees, down 16 percent from $33.5 million the year before, according to the LM-2s. The drop was largely related to when payments are made, said Andy Feffer, executive vice president and chief operating officer of Players Inc.

Trading card revenue jumped 20 percent to $24.6 million.

Ask the fans

2007-07-10T09:27:00.000-04:00

Winston-Salem (N.C.) Journal
Opinion
Tuesday, July 10, 2007

Retired football players went to Congress recently seeking better disability benefits from the NFL. They should have gone to their fans, instead.

Heroes of bygone Sundays now understand that there is a very high price to pay for big hits they gave and took in NFL games. Testimony before Congress last month indicated that many retired NFL players suffer both serious physical and psychological problems.

The NFL has been less than generous with retirement benefits, testimony showed. Only 317 former players are receiving disability from the NFL. The average is $63,000 a year.

Although the players were paid well during their days in the NFL, they consider those benefits inadequate now as their job prospects dim and their health bills escalate. And, a great many former NFL players argue that the league's system for conferring disability benefits is designed to keep the numbers low.

Congress may have been the right place to pursue this argument, but we doubt it. If the NFL is violating federal law, then the courts would have been the more appropriate avenue for the players' appeal.

More likely, the NFL feels fully compliant with the nation's retirement laws, which Congress has weakened in recent years to the benefit of employers and the detriment of workers. We don't see any evidence that the NFL retirees are getting any worse a deal than the average working Joe.

Members of the House committee that held the hearings, both Republican and Democrat, jumped all over the testimony. They accused the NFL of being unfair and greedy. But we wonder how many paid as much attention when big American corporations were lobbying them to dilute benefits for the rest of us. Sharing the limelight with former NFL greats Harry Carson and Mike Ditka was just too tempting for the politicians in the room.

Congress should act only if there is a significant loophole in federal retiree-benefits laws that applies to the NFL. Better treatment for football retirees should come only with comprehensive legislation that helps all Americans.

This does not mean, however, that the retirees don't have a good argument against their former employers. The NFL generates approximately $7 billion a year, some of it off the old film of the former players whom the league now tries to ignore. Fans should let the league know that they want their former stars properly cared for,
especially considering the physical damage that playing the game causes.

But the impetus for change should come through fan support and the private sector, not through Congress - unless, of course, Congress wants to help all American retirees in the process.

Life AFTER the NFL: Giant/SCSU legend Carson helping lead benefits battle

2007-07-10T09:08:00.000-04:00

By THOMAS GRANT JR.
Orangeburg, S.C. Times & Democrat Senior Sports Writer

Almost 20 years have passed since Harry Carson last suited up for an NFL football game.

Even in retirement, the Hall of Fame linebacker and former South Carolina State great still finds himself "playing in pain."

All of Carson's efforts to maintain a healthy lifestyle still can't provide comfort for a right knee which is degenerating to the point where replacement surgery is an unavoidable option.

There's also a right shoulder ailing from nerve damage which brings on pain as excruciating as the one which occasionally flares up with Carson's lower back. Perhaps the most serious of Carson's post-NFL maladies are the lingering effects from years of constant blows on the gridiron which has resulted in post-concussion syndrome. The diagnosis was received two years after Carson's retirement in 1988 and has become quite common among other Hall of Fame greats like running back Earl Campbell.

Despite the physical difficulties to himself as well as his children (daughter Aja was diagnosed with cervical cancer in 2006, around the same time son Donald was being treated for severe aplastic anemia), Carson continues to soldier on as he did for 13 seasons with the New York Giants.

"From a physical standpoint, I think I'm probably like so many other players with the aches and pains and arthritis and so forth in various parts of the body," he said. "For the most part, we learn to adjust to those aches and pains and we can't let those things stop us or deny us from doing what we need to do for our own survival."

Compared to some of his former teammates and fellow retired players, Carson is currently waging a campaign to receive better disability and pension coverage from the National Football League, but considers himself fortunate.

Daily exercises keep the 53-year-old in reasonably good shape and he's managed to maintain a financially independent lifestyle through his business ventures in the New York metropolitan area.

"You learn you have to take care of yourself and you can't look for the cavalry to come and take care of you," he said. "You have to take care of yourself. For the most part, I'm very fortunate that I go to the gym and I have an exercise regimen that if it had not been for staying in good, physical condition, I would have been broken down a long time ago. So my body is pretty much like, well, not too far off from when I played years ago. I have to maintain my weight and keep my blood pressure down. I really do have to work to order to maintain my physical appearance.

"I'm not going to allow myself to deteriorate in any way. I'm going to work and fight to maintain the physical presence that I have. I feel relatively good right now and at 53, I just think about some of my brethren who have passed away in their 40s and 50s and even some guys who are in their 30s who have passed away. So I have to make sure I take good care of myself because if I don't, nobody else is going to care about me."

Carson learned firsthand about the cold reality about dealing with the NFL Players' Association in retirement 11 years ago. Despite being diagnosed by doctors with post-concussion syndrome in 1990 after two days of testing, Carson was still declined for disability assistance by the NFL after only a 10-minute meeting with their experts.

It was during Carson's agonizing wait for induction into the Pro Football Hall of Fame that the issue over fair treatment for retired players took on a bigger priority than getting into Canton, Ohio.

"Each year, I would see players who are Hall of Fame players get introduced and have to hobble onto the stage or are barely able to walk and I said to myself 'That really is sad'," Carson said. "And then, in looking at that, I thought to myself, 'These guys were warriors when they played and now they're at a point where they can
hardly walk.' I thought it was sad, but in a way, I was sort of looking at my own future and I felt like if I didn't say something, especially with all of the guys that were screaming out about pensions and benefits being inadequate, if I don't speak out when I have an opportunity to speak out, then when I get to the point where I can't walk up on the stage to be introduced as a Hall of Famer, I have nobody to blame for myself."

Carson was more than ready physically and emotionally to receive his Hall of Fame induction last August. With former SCSU head football coach Willie Jeffries and other friends and family members in attendance, Carson did indeed use his enshrinement speech to bring attention to the plight of retired NFL players.

Since then, the issue has gained further momentum as former players like Mike Ditka and even the widow of NFL great Johnny Unitas continue to assail the disability policy as implemented by the NFL and Players Association executive director Gene Upshaw. On June 26, Carson and Ditka testified under oath at a hearing in Washington, D.C., before the House Judiciary Subcommittee on Commercial and Administrative Law,
which was looking into the matter.

The hearing provided another harsh revelation for Carson.

"It really brought to light the mere fact that the NFL Players Association really does not represent the retired players," Carson said. "We really need to have our own union. We're a body without representation. The NFL Players Association all but admitted they did not represent us."

At the same time, Carson does not want to see the controversy reduced to an argument which pits current players against the retired players.

From his perspective, Carson believes the outcome of this issue should benefit both sides if handled properly.

"If people see it that way, that should not be the case because it's not 'Us versus Them'," he said. "Obviously, (the NFLPA) control the purse strings because the money the NFL gives to the Players' Association, they basically dictate what the retired players get so I don't necessarily see it as 'Us versus Them'. I see it as a case as,
Mike Ditka has already indicated, as just doing the right thing.

"Whether it's the retired players working with the current players or the retired players working with the NFL, whoever is involved really should come to the table and rectify a problem that is there. All of those players who are playing now at some point in the very, very near future will become retired players and they'll get a true understanding of what we're trying to fight for."

With another meeting set for late July, this time with Upshaw and NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell expected in attendance, Carson is hopeful for a resolution which would insure the next generation of retired players will not endure the same problems.

"If players are smart - and I'd like to think that players are smart - they need to understand what they're doing is very temporary and it's going to be over," he said. "It might only last for another year or two for them. At some point, they're going to be retired players and some of those guys who may look at it as that we're chastising them, some of those same guys are going wind up being on the same side as we are right now."

Reconsidering our responsibility for damaged lives

2007-07-09T21:58:00.000-04:00

by John M. Crisp
Scripps Howard News Service
July 9, 2007

Austin, Texas, is a busy high-tech metropolis these days, but in 1977 it was still a fairly small town with a big university. It was a good year to go to graduate school. I spent most of my time reading, studying, writing and enjoying a lovely, relaxed city.

Along with Willie Nelson and Darrell Royal, one of the iconic figures from those days is Earl Campbell. U.T. had a good football team in 1977, ranked No. 1 in the nation for much of the season, largely because of this hard-hitting running back from Tyler, Texas. The team went 11-0, then lost to Notre Dame in the Cotton Bowl and finished
fourth in the nation. It was a good year for football in Texas.

It was a good year for Earl Campbell, too. He gained 1,744 yards and scored 19 touchdowns. In December, he won the Heisman Trophy, which designates the best college football player in the country. A first-round NFL draft pick, he played eight seasons with the Houston Oilers and New Orleans Saints. He was a Pro-Bowler, and in 1991 he was inducted into the NFL Hall of Fame.

I never met Campbell, but it was exciting to watch him play in the home games. Occasionally I'd see him walking around campus or eating in a nearby Mexican restaurant. He was a big, powerful, handsome guy with a reputation for intelligence, a sweet disposition and a lot of character, not the kind of player who got in trouble with the police. He completed his degree. When he signed with the NFL, the first thing he did was buy a new house for his mother. He was known for pride,
determination and hard work, which he converted into a successful athletic career that changed his life.

So, why do I feel a little uneasy about Earl Campbell?

I'd already heard that he was having trouble getting around. But recent reports indicate that Campbell can no longer stand up straight and he's hobbled by knees that don't work anymore. He uses a walker to move at a painfully slow pace, and he keeps a wheelchair nearby for when he gets tired. He's spent time in the hospital recently and he gets regular physical therapy. He hasn't played golf in six years. Campbell is 52 years old.

He contends that his ailments aren't the result of football. But according to a recent Associated Press story by Jim Vertuno, several of his fellow Heisman winners disagree. Some of them are suffering their own physical woes. Tony Dorsett, who won the Heisman in 1976, experiences numbness in his hands that he attributes to football. Even worse, a disturbing number of former NFL players suffer from
headaches, amnesia, slurred speech, depression and dementia. Some have died young; some have committed suicide. Dorsett says that "it doesn't matter how big and strong you are. Over a period of time, the game wins."

I wonder if we should reconsider our responsibility for these damaged lives. Of course, nobody forced Campbell to play football. For all I know, he might say that the opportunity to perform in front of 80,000 cheering Longhorns was well worth all the damage. Furthermore, football raised him and his family out of grinding East Texas poverty and made him a celebrity. Perhaps it wore him out early, but what
would he have been without football?

But this line of reasoning reminds me of apologists for the Spanish bullfight, who sometimes argue that while the lives of ordinary cattle are short and miserable, fighting bulls are pampered with a comfortable life in the country for four or five pleasant years, and then die in a blaze of glory, doing what they were bred for. Then, of course, they're consumed just like any other beast. It's not a
particularly convincing argument, not for animals and certainly not for humans.

Football provides a lot of pleasure, but wouldn't a healthier society encourage the conservation of athletes' priceless physical and mental capital, rather than its consumption in a few short years? After all, no 20-year-old can think ahead on his own to the age of 52 and imagine a painful life without golf or playing with his kids ... or without being able to walk.

Kenneth MacAfee, former NFL player, dead at 77

2007-07-09T21:54:00.000-04:00

Associated Press - July 9, 2007 3:44 PM ET

BOSTON (AP) - A former NFL player who attended Boston University dies while playing golf in Brockton.

Kenneth MacAfee was 77.

He suffered an apparent heart attack July Fourth while playing golf at a country club and was pronounced dead at a nearby hospital.

The Marine Corps Veteran grew up in Brockton.

He graduated from Oliver Ames High School in North Easton. In addition to BU, he also attended the University of Alabama.

MacAfee played for the New York Giants between 1954 and 1958.

Life AFTER the NFL: Colt/USC star Hawkins thinks he's fortunate on the issue of health

2007-07-09T21:43:00.000-04:00

By BRIAN LINDER
The (Orangeburg, S.C.) Times & Democrat

A gallon of vodka per week and somewhere around three packs of cigarettes a day.

Not the words that usually proceed: keeps the doctor away, but so far so good for Alex Hawkins.

Yes, it's true, the infamous "Captain Who" is still alive and kicking in Denmark. And, surprisingly, despite his regimen - he says smoking is the stupidest thing he's ever done, but he does get a little help here and there downing all that vodka - he's still pretty vigorous at 70 years old and counting.

Friday afternoon, Hawkins sat in a Coca-Cola chair in his home overlooking the Edisto River and lit up a BASIC, his cigarette of choice. He's had two knee surgeries, but they don't bother him. He's also had three hip replacements, but all in all, for a man that played in the NFL for 10 years, he's doing fine.

"I've been very, very fortunate," he said. "The three hip replacements are attributable, I guess, to all athletics. One was a faulty operation, so I had to have another."

Fact is, Alex Hawkins isn't well-schooled on this whole retired players trying to get better disability benefits thing. He just hasn't been that involved with the National Football League Players Association. But, a number of his former teammates on the Colts have, and Alex is starting to pay attention too. How could he not?

Just weeks ago, Sandra Unitas came to visit he and his wife Charlie. That's Sandra, the wife of Alex's old running buddy, Johnny, the all-time great Colts quarterback. And, if you ask him, Hawkins will tell you Unitas had as much to do with the NFL becoming the billion-dollar business it is today as anyone.

"My first year in the league was 1959, which was a year after Unitas won a championship in sudden death in New York City," he said. "Until then, nobody filled up the stadium except for the Colts. That was the only place in 1959 that you had a sell-out crowd, and that was because of Unitas. It was kind of the golden team after that game.

"He was on national television," Hawkins continued. "It was the first overtime game. It had all the drama and everything that you need. It was the turning point in pro football. From that point on, the numbers just soared. What is that worth? I think - quite a lot."

But, Johnny didn't get a lot, and after her stay at the Hawkins' home on the river in Denmark, Sandra headed to Washington to stand alongside retired veterans such as Mike Ditka and Harry Carson in the fight for improvements in the NFL's disability benefits system. Johnny had injured a tendon in his right arm, and because of that, spent his
later years, right up until his death on Sept. 11, 2002, having to button his shirts with a rubber hook.

Sandra held that same hook up in front of Congress to illustrate what her husband had to go through. He was denied his disability claim by the NFL because the league ruled he was healthy enough to hold a job. But, Unitas wasn't the only former Baltimore player Alex had seen struggle.

"Six of the 36 guys I played with on one of those teams got Alzheimer's or dementia," he said. "And, three are dead. That's an inordinate percentage. That's a sixth of the team."

That list includes Hall of Fame tight end John Mackey.

"The last time I saw (Mackey) was at Unitas' funeral,and he didn't even know where he was," Hawkins said. "I feel so sorry for John because John would stand out in the rain and sign autographs - pouring rain - and I'd say, 'John stop all this.' And, he'd say, 'If they want my autograph, I'll stay here until I drown.'

"That's the kind of person he was," he continued. "When he could no longer sign his autograph - he couldn't walk from here to the door without someone wanting his autograph - it really hurt him."

And, how could Hawkins forget George Preas, the 6-foot-2, 240-pound offensive tackle that Colts players called George "Priest." Preas passed away Feb. 24, 2007, after a long bout with Parkinsons.

"I was up in Virginia speaking, and Preas' wife was at a banquet where I spoke," Hawkins said. "She said, 'Can you come by and see George?' And, I said, 'It's my understanding he doesn't know where he is.' And, she said that was true, but a few times he had come out of it for a brief period of time, and it was always when an ex-teammate of his came over.

"So, I said I'd be there in the morning," he continued. "And, the next morning I went there to the care center where he was being kept, and I went over to him hoping to get his hand and make eye contact. I remember, his mouth was open and his head was laid back on the bed and - never, not a single thing."

Hawkins said it's tough to watch friends go through things like that, especially friends he made with the Colts. That team, he said, had a special bond. But, looking back, he also isn't surprised the physical issues have become such a problem for so many retired players. In today's NFL, athletes sometimes have to play hurt. In the late 1950s and into the 1960s, players often had to play hurt.

"You had to play hurt," he said. "We only had a 36-man roster."

These days, Hawkins does find himself wondering about his own memory. Of course, he's not sure if it's the vodka, the cigarettes, the fact that he's getting older or just plain paranoia, but he is concerned a little.

"I compare myself with other people when I'm playing golf," he said. "I don't know how much ties in with the trauma of getting hit in the head so much, you know, to what extent it has anything to do with that, I don't know, and I can't worry about it because the damage has been done.

"The NFL is doing a lot of research now into dementia and Alzheimer's," he continued. "They send us forms from the league office, and you know, they ask if we have any trouble with our backs, any injuries that remain, our memory, how much damage has been done and to what extent we can perform as a normal person. But, we never get the results of it.

"I'm very sympathetic to the older players with mental conditions - if there is enough money, I'd like to see them taken care of."

NFL retirees feel forgotten as fight for benefits rages

2007-07-09T17:27:00.000-04:00

By Chris Colston, USA TODAY
July 9, 2007

HYATTSVILLE, Md. - A 1965 youth book, Heroes of the NFL, featured a photograph of Green Bay Packers safety Willie Wood trying to block a field goal against the Baltimore Colts. To a 10-year-old gazing at that picture on Page 139, Wood seemed to be leaping higher than humanly possible.

Today, Wood, inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame in 1989, cannot stand on his own two feet. His body was battered over the course of 12 NFL seasons, and it's now paying the price, as Wood, 70, uses a wheelchair.

"The thing about it, when you're playing, sometimes you're not aware that you're all banged up," Wood says. "To think that, at my age, I'm having surgery for something that happened years ago - and not getting paid for it. It makes it tough.

"If I never played football, I'd be walking right now."

Wood is just one voice in a growing storm of dissent against the NFL Players Association, which is responsible for providing veterans their pensions and, to a degree, disability benefits.

In his 2006 Hall of Fame induction speech, former New York Giants linebacker Harry Carson called out the NFL on its treatment of hurting retired players.

"I would hope the leaders of the NFL do a much better job of looking out for these individuals," he said. "If we made the league what it is, we have to take better care of our own."

Hall of Famers such as Carson, Mike Ditka and Joe DeLamielleure have focused their frustrations on Gene Upshaw, executive director of the NFLPA and a Hall of Fame guard who played for the Oakland Raiders from 1967 to 1981.

"Why does the most lucrative professional sports league in the world have the worst pension and disability plan?" DeLamielleure asks. "My answer is: Gene Upshaw. He's the one running this thing."

Many ex-players envy Major League Baseball retirees for their pension plan, which pays $175,000 annually for life after age 62 to players with 10 years of service.

"The MLB average pension benefits are three times higher at $36,700 average vs. the NFL's $12,165 average benefit," former cornerback Bernie Parrish says, using a figure based on the average pensions of all retired players, not just recent ones.

"According to Forbes, baseball's gross income is approximately $4.3 billion while the NFL's gross is over $7.1 billion. ... Baseball continues to prosper on less income and higher expenses. There is no excuse not to have the NFL retirement benefits matching MLB's."

To help assist veterans in need, Carson, Ditka, DeLamielleure, former Packers guard Jerry Kramer and other former NFL stars have launched the Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund, a non-stock, non-profit corporation. Through auctions and donations, the GGAF has raised about $350,000 since Feb. 2.

NFLPA spokesman Carl Francis says the union appreciates what the GGAF is doing but wonders why it has never contacted Upshaw.

"They've never requested a meeting to say, 'Let's work together to help veterans in need,'" Francis says.

"They're playing a public relations game, doing everything through press conferences. But the bottom line is getting things done to help these retired players."

Kramer, a founding member of the GGAF, says he'd like to see the NFL increase everybody's pension to at least the poverty level. His pension amounts to $358 a month.

"The NFL needs to address this so guys don't have to be living in the (bleeping) homeless shelter," Kramer says.

Grumbling has gotten so widespread, the NFLPA issued a memorandum warning chapter presidents of conduct detrimental to the union's best interests.

"Retired players are important to us. They helped us build the game," NFL commissioner Roger Goodell said at a recent Charlotte Regional Partnership luncheon honoring Carolina Panthers owner Jerry Richardson.

"I don't think anybody I know has done more for retired players, or players in general, than Gene Upshaw ... but I understand it's an emotional issue."

In light of his accomplishments, Upshaw and his supporters don't understand the backlash they're facing. In 1983, he took command of an association that was more than $4 million in debt; now it has more than $220 million in cash and assets. According to the NFLPA, its retirement plan has assets of about $1 billion. Upshaw has negotiated pension increases for retired players in each of the last four
collective bargaining agreements. He also said he once helped pay Hall of Fame cornerback Lem Barney's mortgage when he heard of his medical bills.

Most recently, Upshaw has helped implement the "88 Plan," named for Hall of Fame tight end John Mackey (who wore jersey number 88 for the Baltimore Colts), to help ex-players who had dementia.

Doctors diagnosed Mackey with dementia when he was 59. His wife, Sylvia, went to Upshaw to initiate the program, which provides up to $88,000 annually for institutional care or $50,000 for in-home care for ex-players with dementia or Alzheimer's disease.

Since the plan - approved as part of the bargaining agreement struck last year - went into effect in February, 54 players have applied for assistance and 35 have been approved. Francis says some of the remaining number are still being processed.

But Upshaw has also made comments that have stirred trouble rather than soothe the inflammatory issues that have swirled about him and his organization.

Of his relationship with former players, a Charlotte Observer story quoted him as saying, "The bottom line is, I don't work for them. They don't hire me, and they can't fire me. They can complain about me all day long. They can have their opinion. But the active players have the vote. That's who pays my salary."

He later told the Philadelphia Daily News the Observer misquoted him, that he was only referring to DeLamielleure, who admits, "I wake up every day to get Gene Upshaw fired. Who else is there to get fired?"

Upshaw told the newspaper: "A guy like DeLamielleure says the things he said about me; you think I'm going to invite him to dinner? No. I'm going to break his ... damn neck."

DeLamielleure fires back, "He says it was just 'locker room talk.' But he makes $7 million a year as a union leader. If I threatened him like that, there would be two policemen at my door. I take the threat seriously. He has the power and money to make it happen."

Because of the game's inherently violent nature, football players face long-term physical ailments that other athletes escape.

A 2003 University of North Carolina study found 263 of 2,500 retired NFL players said concussions may have had a permanent effect on their ability to think and remember as they got older.

Former safety Andre Waters, a 12-year veteran, recently committed suicide at 44. Neuropathologist Bennet Omalu studied Waters' brain tissue. According to The New York Times, Omalu discovered a succession of football-related concussions left Waters with the brain tissue of an 85-year-old man.

The physical nature of the NFL often leaves veterans unable to lead normal lives, and many rely on their pensions to survive.

Many of them have, for a variety of reasons, taken pensions at an early age, driving down their monthly payments. Herb Adderley, an ex-teammate of Wood and another member of the Hall of Fame, receives a monthly pension of $126.85 - but he elected to start collecting his pension at 45.

Like Adderley, DeLamielleure began collecting his pension check at 45. Had he waited till 55, he would collect $3,200 a month. Instead, he receives $1,247 a month.

A business associate's criminal activity forced DeLamielleure to take his pension early to put food on his table, he says. He says he never declared bankruptcy and worked two jobs - one of them moving furniture - to feed his six children.

"You talk about a gut check," he says. "Try moving an elliptical trainer up a flight of stairs when you're 46 years old."

Wood says many players of his era were shown life-expectancy charts for football players. "You see that and say, 'Why should I wait until I'm 65? I might be dead by then,'" he says, referring to studies he was shown indicating many former players don't live into their mid-60s.

Baseball players may take their pension before 62, but the money is prorated. In 1993, Upshaw and the union urged change that prevented players from touching their pension until they turn 55.

In the 1960s, Wood helped Vince Lombardi's Packers win five championships. But since November 2006, after he fell at his Washington, D.C., home, Wood has been hospitalized twice and lived in two assisted-living facilities.

His lawyer, guardian and former Southern California teammate, Bob Schmidt, has sunk $45,000 into Wood's home in an effort to make it wheelchair-accessible. "We're just trying to make his life as good as it can be," Schmidt says.

Until then, his home is the assisted-living facility.

To further complicate Wood's situation, his wife, Sheila, died five years ago. "My saddest hour," Wood says. "If she saw me like this, she'd raise a whole lot of hell."

Every now and then a care provider will enter his room and leave his door open. He doesn't like that.

The highlight of his day comes each morning when he awakens to live another day. The worst comes a few moments later, he says, "When I realize I'll be sitting around here the rest of the day."

Wood has had surgeries on his neck, shoulder and lower back. He's had knee- and hip-replacement surgeries. "And I'm sure I'm forgetting something," he says.

Says Kramer, "Willie has gone through hell."

Wood has no income other than his $2,000 a month pension. In March, Schmidt held a fundraiser to help pay for Wood's medical bills; Schmidt estimates Wood will incur about $100,000 in medical expenses this year.

Despite successful knee surgery in March, Wood remains in a wheelchair. He suffers from arthritis and memory loss. When USA TODAY Sports Weekly visited Wood at the first assisted-living facility before his knee surgery, he sat in a wheelchair between the bed and the dresser. He was shirtless, wearing a pair of gray sweatpants, gray socks and brown slippers. He asked his guest to pull a T-shirt from
the closet. It was gray and oversized.

No rugs adorned the room's gray tile floor. A Zenith flat-screen TV and a DVD player sat atop a four-drawer dresser. One of the drawers held a small collection of discount DVDs, mostly old Westerns. And that bed - it was so small; the first night, he fell out. But it was a private place, without the odor of urine common to the rooms down the hall.

Wood had looked forward to his knee surgery, because he dreamed of playing golf again. Before his accident, his life revolved around his golf outings. "I wish I had started playing it sooner," he said. "I really enjoyed it. Hell, maybe if I played golf for a living, I wouldn't be crippled right now."

A nurse wheeled in his lunch: rice, cabbage, a pear, an 8-ounce carton of whole milk.

"I would much rather be sitting in somebody's joint, having a glass of white wine," Wood said, sipping the milk. "But that is not to be."

Returning punts - that's what did him in, Wood believes. "People coming at you full speed to zap you - you feel it."

When asked why he agreed to return punts, he responds, "For the glory."

And another reason: pride.

"If I said I didn't want to return punts, a reporter might question your manhood," he said. "The fans pick up on that."

Pride has kept more veterans from speaking out, according to DeLamielleure. But for him, the bottom line is simple.

"I don't care if Gene Upshaw stays in there as long as our pensions are the same as baseball," DeLamielleure says. "Period. That's it. If he can do that, God bless him.

"Just do the right thing."

The NFL's grave mistake

2007-07-09T17:06:00.000-04:00

By Ron Grillo
Rocky Mount (N.C.) Telegram Correspondent

Monday, July 09, 2007

Bones are gnarled for a lifetime, knees are broken and bent and the toll the game has taken, from head trauma, on many is exploding like a Fourth of July fireworks exhibition. Players are suffering from amnesia, Alzheimer's, depression and slurred speech.

I'll go to my grave believing that football is the most grueling, punishing game known to man and those who play it at the highest level pay the most extreme price.

An atrocity is going on in the NFL and has been for years, leaving a number of former players in desperate straits.

The players, most of whom suited up in the league prior to 1980, are asking for increased pension payments and a far more compassionate medical benefits package.

They are, however, being opposed by the NFL Players Association and its executive director, former player Gene Upshaw, has either said, "No" to a startling number of requests or completely ignored them.

This is something that simply just never should have happened.

The highest profile entity in the history of sports didn't need this kind of publicity.

Revenue is overflowing the coffers of every NFL franchise in unprecedented fashion.

This abomination is not only the responsibility of Gene Upshaw and the NFLPA, but of everyone actively associated with the pro game today.

It's irresponsible, greedy and most of all unconscionable.

New commissioner Roger Goodell could have entrenched himself on par with Pete Rozelle and Paul Tagliabue had he demanded that the former players be treated with dignity, compassion and fairness. It would have been the boldest move ever taken by any commissioner, NFL or otherwise.

One single billionaire owner could step forward on his own, and say, "I'll handle each and every issue" and become an instant hero, savior or legend - pick one.

The commissioner has said he is taking off-the-field behavior of current players very seriously. The manner in which the former players are being treated is infinitely more serious and important.

The vast majority of former players made wise business choices, did well, and are financially comfortable today.

The number of those seeking an increase in pensions and benefits has to be miniscule. Last year, benefits to those considered "needy" totaled less than 150 players.

Some of the benefits packages these players have wouldn't cover a tooth extraction in today's economy.

Upshaw has repeatedly cited the fact that over a million dollars for each of the the past two years has been doled out in medical expenses for former players.

That's not even 20 percent of the salary for one of the league's mega-stars. One star.

Imagine the impact the Tennessee Titans could make by taking the salary they're going to save alone because of pathetic Pacman Jones's year-long suspension and donating it to an old-timers fund.

Current NFL players average a staggering $1.3 million dollars a year.

The vast majority of those asking for help and assistance didn't see that kind of money in a career.

Picture the immense impact if the NFL could guarantee that any former player who needed assistance, received five percent of that figure annually?

These once-proud members of the NFL fraternity are broken in spirit because of the attitude taken toward them. They are in poor health, in need of assistance, and the sooner the better.

One sentiment the players from the distant past are so proud of expressing, is that they so loved the game, they'd have played for nothing.

The way they're being treated by Gene Upshaw and the NFL, it appears that many did.

NFL fails on disability issue, House panel told

2007-06-29T09:22:00.000-04:00

http://www.latimes.com/sports/la-sp-nfl27jun27,1,2430436.story?coll=la-headlines-sports

From the Los Angeles Times

Ex-athletes testify retiree benefits plan is stacked against them. Ditka says, 'It's right versus wrong.'
By Claudia Lauer
Times Staff Writer

June 27, 2007

WASHINGTON — Four former football players Tuesday told a House panel that the NFL's disability retirement system is broken, and Rep. Maxine Waters (D-Los Angeles) chastised league and union leaders for failing to treat injured retirees and their families in a dignified manner.

"The [retiree disability] system does not work," Mike Ditka, a Hall of Fame player and coach with the Chicago Bears, told the lawmakers. "There's a difference between perception and reality. I don't understand why it's so hard to go back and take care of these players…. It's right versus wrong, period."

Tuesday's House Judiciary subcommittee hearing came after growing public protests from former players who allege that the league has been negligent in dispensing disability benefits to retirees who suffer from such problems as hip injuries and early onset dementia linked to on-the-field concussions.

Waters, who serves on the full Judiciary Committee, spoke from personal experience about the case of former Washington Redskins player Jim Shorter, a friend of her husband, Sidney Williams, a retired NFL player himself.

"Jim Shorter died an awful death," Waters told the panel. "He was blind, on dialysis…. He had several amputations."

Waters, who intervened on Shorter's behalf, said that other NFL retirees had warned her that the benefits application process for Shorter would be grueling. Ultimately, she said, Shorter was unsuccessful.

"He had taken early retirement, so they said he wasn't eligible for disability benefits," Water said.

After the hearing, Waters and the subcommittee's ranking Republican, Utah's Chris Cannon, questioned whether it is time for Congress to reconsider the NFL's antitrust breaks to make sure aging football players are treated fairly. The breaks were granted through the Sports Broadcasting Act of 1961.

Rep. Linda T. Sanchez (D-Lakewood), who chairs the subcommittee, questioned how only 3% of the NFL's past and present players are receiving disability payments despite playing in a league where "half of all players retire because of injury [and] 60% of players suffer a concussion."

Dennis Curran, the NFL senior vice president who oversees player benefits, said the league dispensed about $20 million in disability payments last year to 317 players. Until Tuesday's hearing, the league had said about $19 million had been paid out to 284 players. No explanation was given for the increases.

In addition, Curran said, the league voluntarily increased pension benefits by 25% for athletes who played before 1982 and has increased charitable donations to former players who have fallen upon hard times.

But former athletes who appeared during the hearing said the NFL's retiree medical benefits plan is stacked against them.

Former Oakland Raider Curt Marsh, who played for seven years, testified that a wrongly diagnosed injury resulted in his right foot and ankle eventually being amputated. Marsh said that, despite the amputation, back surgeries and hip-replacement surgery, the NFL union's disability plan still required him to see three doctors before he was ruled eligible for benefits.

"It took nearly a year and a half," said Marsh. "The whole time I thought to myself, 'If I don't qualify, then who does?' "

He also said that after publicly talking about his ordeal, NFL officials tried to correct his account. "I am a football player, but I'm not stupid … and I have no problem with my memory," he said.

Marsh's complaints were similar to what other former NFL players said Tuesday morning at a news conference sponsored by the Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund, a nonprofit group formed to aid players with medical and financial problems.

Retirees and family members of deceased players, many choking back tears, told of having to fight the system set in place by the NFL and the NFL Players Assn.

"This is a span of an entire generation of players being affected by this," said Eugene "Mercury" Morris, a former star running back for the Miami Dolphins who has been fighting for disability payments for years.

Morris pointed to 35-year-old Brian DeMarco, who needed the assistance of two other players to sit and stand because of back injuries that required doctors to insert titanium rods and screws.

A former offensive tackle for the Cincinnati Bengals, DeMarco said that even though he has lost the use of one leg and has extreme nerve pain in his elbows, he has not been approved for disability payments from the league.

"I came because I was asked to represent modern-day players," he said while fighting back tears. DeMarco said he and his wife had been homeless three times in the last four years, including a five-month stint spent living in a storage unit. "This is not just affecting the players. It's affecting entire families. My wife has to take care of our children … [and] her 35-year-old husband too."

A few days ago, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell set a meeting for July 24 to try to resolve the dispute. Retirees and union chief Gene Upshaw will attend. And last week, the NFL and the NFLPA said the disability plan would now use Social Security standards to define disabilities, a move that is expected to speed the decision-making.

In his testimony Tuesday, Curran said that would mean those players who qualify for Social Security disability would also qualify for NFL disability, but it was unclear whether more retirees would qualify for football-related disability checks, which generally are higher.

--

Times staff writer Greg Johnson contributed to this report.

NFL, union drops ball with callous attitude

2007-06-28T16:47:00.000-04:00

By Bill Begley
The (Kerrvile, Texas) Daily Times

Published June 28, 2007

The millions and millions of dollars — which have evolved into the billions and billions of dollars — were all built on the backs of men that these days often find themselves too bent and broken to stand upright.

That the NFL and the myopic leadership of its players’ union don’t recognize that — and feel compelled to do something about it — is criminal.

Right now, NFL players enjoy riches that their predecessors would not have dared to dream of.

The signing bonus alone of a top-flight free agent could have purchased an entire franchise not so long ago.

And still, former players and coaches were forced to parade before a House Judiciary subcommittee on Tuesday, spinning tales of multiple surgeries, dementia and homelessness afflicting many of the pioneers of the NFL — players who turned the outlaw sport of the 40s into the multi-media giant of today, but ignored by the wealthy denizens of today’s games.

Players like former Steelers great Mike Webster — a block of granite in black and yellow who rarely missed a game despite a career riddled with horrific physical trials — who battled mental illness and died homeless in 2002.

Players like John Unitas — the quarterback long recognized as the greatest to ever take a snap — who was all but crippled in the later years of his life, a victim of thousands of stand-tall blows while delivering passes in a collapsing pocket. It got so bad, Unitas had to use rubber bands to help hold a pen as he signed autographs.

And those are just a couple of the stories about former players with names even the less-than-average fan can recognize. There are thousands of others — not stars, but the faceless many who have had limbs amputated and suffer from the ravages of a collection of concussions.

Players who should be revered for their sacrifice and courage and hailed as the rock the league was built upon.

Instead, they have to battle the very league — and the very union that is supposed to protect players — for medical benefits, retirement moneys and aid for those no longer able to take care of themselves.

The league says $126 million a year goes into pension and post-career disability benefits for retired players and their families. The accounts pay out $60 million a year to those players, $20 million of it for disability payments.

But only 317 out of more than 10,000 eligible players are getting disability payments out of that fund, according to league officials.

That still breaks down to $63,000 a year from an industry that generates more the $7 billion a year.

The NFL says its done its part.

The union says it has done what it can. Upshaw — on vacation in Italy, so he did not attend Tuesday’s hearing — has pretty much washed his hands of the group, saying the NFLPA is in place to champion the cause of the current players.

Yep ... lots of millionaires need your support.

Shame on all of you. Not one of you has the guts to stand up and do the right thing. Not one of you is willing to look into your soul — and dig into your well-attended coffers — and come up with a bit of charity.

These former players gave of themselves — at a time when the game mattered more than a paycheck — and they should get what they have earned.

And, if there is justice in this world, the stingy NFL, the tight-fisted NFLPA and cold-hearted Upshaw, will get what they deserve, too.

Congress Considers Action to Help Former N.F.L. Players

2007-06-28T16:43:00.001-04:00

June 28, 2007
By ALAN SCHWARZ
New York Times

A House of Representatives subcommittee hearing on the N.F.L.’s divisive player-disability plan in Washington on Tuesday afternoon included one particularly ominous exchange.

Representative William Delahunt, Democrat of Massachusetts, asked Douglas W. Ell, the lead lawyer for the plan, whether retired players are represented by the N.F.L. players union. Ell replied, “Understand that legally, under the law ... ” before Delahunt interrupted.

“I understand ‘legally,’ ” Delahunt shot back. “We can change the law. We can change the law here. That’s what we’re doing.”

Whether Congress will ultimately consider action, or whether the hearing served merely as its public relations warning to the league and union to improve a disability system that the panel depicted as drawn-out and draconian, remained unclear one day after the hearing. But three members of the committee reasserted in telephone interviews yesterday that they would consider legislation should they not see improvements to the treatment of retired players, of whom 317 received disability payments of about $63,000 apiece last year.

Asked about Delahunt’s remarks during Tuesday’s hearing, the N.F.L. spokesman Joe Browne wrote in an e-mail message: “We did not take the congressman’s words as a warning. If he and other members want to change the National Labor Relations Act for retired N.F.L. players and retired employees in other industries, that is their prerogative.”

Representative Linda T. Sanchez, Democrat of California, who called the hearing as chairwoman of the House Judiciary Subcommittee on Commercial and Administrative Law, replied that Congress was prepared to stage more hearings and take legislative action if the N.F.L. and the players union did not agree on a “fair and compassionate plan” on their own.

“I think they do need to be worried that they’ve got someone looking over their shoulder,” Sanchez said. “I don’t want to threaten them and say we’ve got this legislation lined up, because that’s not the case at this point. We’re still in a very preliminary stage. We’re giving them the opportunity, and I hope they’re taking it.”

In an interview after the hearing Tuesday, Ell said that he was concerned that the two-hour forum, which included commentary from 8 witnesses and 12 committee members, could not properly address the legal and practical reasons for the plan’s policies.

“I don’t think you can capture this issue in a 15-second sound bite,” he said.

Ell declined to predict what effects the hearing might have on the plan, other than to say that changes would need to derive from collective bargaining between the league and the union.

Browne said that the pension plan had improved over the years and would continue to without the involvement of Congress.

“In the past year, we have begun to offer new types of benefits and have streamlined the process to get those benefits,” he said.

Browne added that Gene Upshaw, executive director of the union, “is meeting with Hall of Famers and other prominent retired players on July 24 to discuss even additional types of benefits.”

Delahunt said yesterday that he “was really taken aback” by what he called the league’s and the union’s legalistic, rather than humanitarian, approach to the matter.

Representative Tom Feeney, Republican of Florida, said that he and other members of the subcommittee wanted retired players to have a stronger voice in decisions regarding the plan structure and specific benefit claims. Feeney said Congress could act through its oversight of workplace health issues and interstate commerce, as well as its grant to the N.F.L. of a partial exemption from federal antitrust laws.

“Imagine if Congress decided that in order to ensure the safety of players, we would have OSHA inspectors show up for every practice, every pregame, workouts and weight training, etc. — and make sure like we do in other workplaces that the environment is safe and sound and nobody’s health is threatened,” Feeney said, referring to the Occupational Safety and Health Administration.

Feeney added, “I believe that we could mandate almost any conditions that we wanted to,” but he predicted that a more immediate impact would come in the form of continued bad publicity to the league and the players union. Congress appeared to have significant influence in encouraging Major League Baseball and its players union to strengthen its policies toward performance-enhancing drugs after hearings in March 2005.

“Congress is more likely to use the bully pulpit and to rattle sabers as long as it perceives a problem,” Feeney said. “I can guarantee you that there are more than a few people up here who, if there are another few high-profile cases, who are ready to kill a gnat with a sledgehammer.”

NFL testimony is stark, disturbing

2007-06-28T15:27:00.000-04:00

Arkansas News Bureau
Thursday, Jun 28, 2007

By Harry King

LITTLE ROCK - Normally, ESPN clips don't move me. This one did.

It was a 63-year-old woman detailing the lengths her late husband had to go through to sign an autograph; Sandra Unitas talking about John Unitas.

Her stark and disturbing words were much more riveting than the normal montage of long home runs, diving catches and wicked sliders that show up at 10 p.m. in late June. She was in Washington on Tuesday, along with former Chicago Bears coach Mike Ditka, Garrett Webster, son of former Pittsburgh center Mike Webster, and others for a congressional hearing.

They are upset with the NFL Players Association's disability benefit system for retired NFL players.

Rep. Linda Sanchez, D-Calif., pushed for the hearing by the House Judiciary Subcommittee, including a plea in which she was quoted as saying, "The NFL is a billion-dollar organization built on the backs of individuals who have, in many cases, sacrificed their mobility, suffered traumatic brain injury, or worse."

Not into diplomacy on or off the field, Ditka made it clear that he wasn't interested in explanations, only action. Congress is often slow-moving and blunt might work in this case, but it was the widow's words that were touching.

To set up those words and to be fair, know that NFL spokesman Greg Aielllo said Unitas' application for total and permanent disability was denied. "In other words," he said, "he was able to work."

Unitas, who left the NFL in 1974, had two knee replacements and heart bypass surgery. He was involved in a variety of businesses, but his wife said she used rubber bands to strap pens to his right hand and that he employed a similar tactic to play golf.

"He would take a glove to a shoe repairman and they would put Velcro in and he would wrap it around the club so the club wouldn't go flying," she told the Baltimore Sun.

I did not see the testimony of former Minnesota guard Brent Boyd, who suffered concussions during his playing days, but he asked the subcommittee to be patient with him.

"I do have brain damage, when under stress, my brain gets less blood," he said.

His testimony and that of others are jolts about the violence of the game. Eyes wide open, players sign up for the mayhem, but they are uniform in their belief that they will escape long-term damage or that the pain is worth the pay.

To me, the legal issues are mumbo-jumbo, but humane treatment of the people who sacrificed their bodies for the NFL should be automatic.

It also seems that Gene Upshaw, executive director of the NFL Players Association, and NFL commissioner Roger Goodell could have found their way to Washington for the hearing. Both cited scheduling conflicts.

In their stead, Douglas Ell, counsel for the players association and the disability plan, told Rep. Maxine Waters, D-Calif., that 317 former players receive disability payments.

Pressed by Waters, Ell said there are about 8,000 retired players. "In one of the most dangerous sports in the history of mankind, only 300 players are receiving disability payments?" she said.

Supposedly, applying for benefits is a tedious process. On the other side, Ell defended the process, saying skilled lawyers are misrepresenting the facts.

Don't confuse me with the facts on either side. Surely, there is money available for the gladiators who sacrificed their bodies and their future to lay the groundwork for a league that is so big it has created its own network.

For instance, the Washington Redskins franchise is supposed to be worth more than $1.1 billion and the Dallas Cowboys franchise is worth more than $920 million. Franchises in Houston, New England, Philadelphia and Denver are worth $815 or more.

Players, too, have reaped benefits. Peyton Manning, Reggie Bush and others make megabucks, but a fourth-year player who does nothing but cover kicks received a minimum of $510,000 last year.

Sadly, some of those players probably don't have a clue about Unitas or what he meant to their bank accounts.

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Harry King is sports columnist for Stephens Media's Arkansas News Bureau. His e-mail address is hking@arkansasnews.com.

Ex-49er suing over league's disability plan

2007-06-28T13:01:00.000-04:00

by Kevin Lynch, San Francisco Chronicle Staff Writer
Thursday, June 28, 2007

Ex-49ers and Cal offensive lineman Ben Lynch is suing the NFL's and player union's joint disability plan. Lynch and his attorney, Cy Smith, filed the suit Wednesday, one day after four former NFL players testified about the board's inadequacies in Congress.

The former center/guard, who played mainly as a backup for the 49ers from 1999 through 2002, sustained an anterior cruciate ligament tear Aug. 23, 2003, while in the Houston Texans' training camp.

During a subsequent surgery to replace the torn ligament, Lynch developed a staph infection.

The infected ligament was removed, and in the five surgeries that followed, Lynch contracted complex regional pain syndrome.

"I would get this wild, burning pain just sitting around watching television," Lynch said. He had his sixth surgery in an effort to relieve the pain Wednesday. Lynch feels excruciating pain and can walk only about 200 yards at a time.

On Sept. 29 of last year, Lynch sent an appeal to the NFL and the players' union joint disability board for benefits. As of Wednesday morning, he hadn't heard from the board. Lynch and his attorney are filing the suit under the Employee Retirement Income Security Act, which requires the board to respond in a timely manner.

"They haven't made a decision," Lynch said. "We just wanted to turn to the courts to see if we have a valid disability claim."

Former Viking Brent Boyd, who has brain damage, former Raiders lineman Curt Marsh, who had his leg amputated after a botched surgery, former Giants Hall of Fame linebacker Harry Carson, who has post-concussion syndrome and former Bears coach Mike Ditka, an advocate for retired players, testified Tuesday before a congressional committee.

Most of their complaints were against the disability board, which often rejects claims for benefits. The six-member Pete Rozelle/Bert Bell Retirement Board has three representatives from the union and three from the NFL.

The NFL and the players' union couldn't be reached for comment.

E-mail Kevin Lynch at klynch@sfchronicle.com.

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/06/28/SPGQPQN8QO1.DTL

Column: Who's At Fault For NFL Injuries?

2007-06-28T12:55:00.001-04:00

AP Sports
Thursday, 28 Jun 2007, 7:08 AM EDT

By the time former NFL players got done telling their stories of pain and poverty to Congress, there was barely a dry eye in the House. With good reason.

It's easy to feel sympathy for someone like Curt Marsh, the former Oakland Raider offensive lineman who said playing in the NFL led to 31 surgeries, including the amputation of his right leg eight inches above the ankle.

Marsh has a Super Bowl ring on his finger, a metal plate in his neck and screws holding most everything else together.

Then there's Brent Boyd, the former Minnesota Viking who has struggled with depression and other mental problems from the battering his brain took while playing in the 1980s. Unlike Marsh, Boyd lost his case for permanent disability benefits.

Boyd is bitter and not afraid to show it. The NFL and its player's union, he told members of Congress, have been "using their tactics of delay and deny and hope I put a bullet through my head to end their problem."

Sad cases, indeed. Sad enough for some politicians to suggest there ought to be a law against the way ex-players have been treated.

There won't be.

Those gathered before the House Judiciary Subcommittee the other day understood that. For them, the hearing was a chance to argue their case in a very public forum, and an equally good chance for our elected officials to show they care.

The sad stories are sure to continue, if only because there are so many. The question then becomes how much can be blamed on the NFL and how much is the fault of the players themselves?

Football is a violent, brutal sport. It's even more violent and more brutal when played by the biggest and best players.

The retired players should have understood that when they joined the league. They didn't. Because when you're 25 you think you're indestructible, and the future seems a long way away.

That future is now for some 10,000 former players, and it's more painful than they ever imagined. Just 317 are receiving disability payments, and most of the others believe they should be getting far more in pension pay than they do.

This week's hearing did help turn up the pressure on the league and the NFL Player's Association, who decide how much of the $1.1 billion fund for pensions and disability will be paid out and to whom it will be paid. What they haven't been able to win in courts and arbitration hearings, the former players are trying to win by rallying public support.

The campaign is starting to have an effect. NFL commissioner Roger Goodell has set a summit next month to try and work things out between the league, the union and the retirees. And the NFL and NFLPA said last week they will use Social Security standards to define disabilities, which should make it easier to qualify.

Hall of Famer Mike Ditka says it's a simple matter of right versus wrong. The league, he says, is rich and getting richer, and should take care of those who played a part in making it what it is today.

Union chief Gene Upshaw believes it's not so simple. He said last month that benefits have increased, but that he was tired of explaining it to Ditka and others.

"I'm not sure he would understand it if I did," Upshaw said, adding: "Yes, I'm calling him stupid."

Upshaw's been doing a lot of name-calling lately. Just last month he reacted angrily to comments about paltry pensions by Hall of Famer Joe DeLamielleure by saying he would like to "break his ... damn neck."

Upshaw knows where his loyalties lie, even though he falls in the same group of retired players the union is so wary of giving money to. He's employed by current players, who have made it clear they are more concerned with keeping money in the fund for their future than paying it out for those who went ahead of them.

The NFL, though, is more sensitive to public opinion and would rather part with a few million dollars than be accused of not caring about its players. Since the league and the union administer the plan jointly, they must find some middle ground.

The retired players, too, must share in taking responsibility.

While others their age went to work in offices and factories and began planning their lives, they chose to play football for a living.

The money's good while it lasts, but then it's suddenly gone. And many never bothered to learn other skills or get a degree that might mean something in the job market.

Some end up with broken bodies; others just end up broke.

In the end, though, they all have one thing in common, something that should frame the debate about what they're due.

No one ever forced them to play the game.

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Tim Dahlberg is a national sports columnist for The Associated Press.

Opinion: Santa Cruz (Calif.) Sentinel

2007-06-28T12:48:00.000-04:00

June 28, 2007

As We See It: NFL, union need to help ex-players.

Talk about some strange bedfellows: Republicans and Democrats seem to agree that more should be done to get disability help for needy former National Football League players.

And both the league itself and the NFL players' union are in agreement that the league and current players are doing enough.

This story played out earlier this week in Congress as the House Judiciary Subcommittee on Commercial and Administrative Law heard from NFL officials, lawyers, player representatives and, most notably, former players like Mike Ditka.

The fiery Ditka, known for his hard play back in the '60s, his sideline presence as a coach in the '80s and '90s and his animated television presence in the '00s, was particularly outspoken.

It's not clear whether Congress would actually take any sort of action to help former players clearly in need. But Ditka and others seized on the hearing as a way to publicize the plight of former players suffering from football-related injuries like dementia and other physical ailments.

While representatives of the league and of current players told Congress of the many measures taken to help ailing former players, a group of former players said it wasn't true. "Now that they have put the lipstick on the pig," said former Minnesota Viking lineman Brent Boyd, "I want to tell you what reality is" Boyd then explained, according to the Chicago Tribune, how the NFL Players Association retirement disability board rejected his claim for benefits. Two doctors confirmed a diagnosis of a football-related brain disorder. The players' association board sent him to a third doctor, who rejected the claim.

In fact, the Tribune reported, Boyd said he's received more assistance from former Major League Baseball players like Mark Grace and Rick Sutcliffe than from anyone associated with the NFL or the players' union.

Football is a great spectator sport, but it's a dangerous game. The creators of the sport never intended it to be played by 300-pound men with blazing speed.

We agree with Ditka that "something's wrong and it can be fixed"

The first step is for the league, team owners and the players to make a commitment to the former players, the ones who never made much money while building the sport into what it is. That commitment ought to be a significant amount of dollars to help in their support and treatment.

You can find this story online at:
http://www.santacruzsentinel.com/archive/2007/June/28/edit/stories/01edit.htm

NFL no match for aging vets

2007-06-28T12:22:00.000-04:00

Image-minded league can't put positive spin on retirees' deal

by Paul Daugherty
Cincinnati Inquirer
Thursday, June 28, 2007

The NFL is the master league at spin. Not only does it put out public relations fires before they roar, it anticipates the flames before they spark. Is it any wonder commissioner Roger Goodell stressed proper conduct at a rookie symposium this week?

No pro league is more aware of its image and how it relates to the bottom line. The NFL never loses a PR war.

Until now. The league and its players association are being whipped so decisively in an image contest, their only option is unconditional surrender.

The NFL people arrive at a hearing Tuesday before a House Judiciary subcommittee. The subject is the league's treatment of its former players. They bring their charts, their numbers and their lawyers in dark suits. Look at all this money we have for these old guys!

The old guys bring themselves. They limp, they walk with crutches. They excuse themselves in advance for any lapses during testimony. Their brains, they explain, are scrambled from playing professional football.

Whom are you going to believe?

Rep. Maxine Waters (D-Calif.) asks NFL Players Association counsel Douglas Ell how many retired players are currently receiving disability payments.

"Three hundred seventeen," he answers.

How many are eligible?, Waters asks.

Roughly 8,000, Ell answers.

Whom are you going to believe?

One former NFL gladiator, a lineman named Curt Marsh, told the subcommittee he has had 31 surgeries, including 14 on a leg that eventually was amputated.

Another guy is still so popular, 22 years after he coached in a Super Bowl and at least 30 years after he played, he signs autographs when he's done trashing the league and its players association. Mike Ditka never was short with his opinions.

The NFL can't win this one. If it says pensions and disability coverage had to be agreed to by the players in every new collective bargaining agreement, it looks petty and small. If it says the pension for some players now exceeds what they earned while playing, it looks cheap. It can't say that the current rank and file should pay more attention to the deals it signs.

That'd be true. It also would be skirting the issue. Which, today, looks a lot like Brian DeMarco, a former lineman. He walks with a cane. In some sort of contorted exercise in modern medical science, his spine has been fused to his hip. He has no health insurance because the deal the players cut with the league says the coverage expires three years after you retire. He can't work. Medical bills wiped him out. He told The Enquirer and other media outlets that he has been homeless three times in the last four years.

The NFL says it's taking better financial care of its old players than ever before. It says this at a hearing without its two best spokesmen. NFLPA chief Gene Upshaw was out of the country; Goodell was with the rookies. Wasn't the hearing important?

Of course players should study the deals they approve. Of course they make lots of money - now. What company these days pays fully for the health care of its retirees? How many companies still have pension plans?

What you choose to do to your knees - and hips and shoulders and brain - in the performance of your job is your business. Which would be true, in most jobs. Football isn't one of those.

Nobody who helped make billions for his company should be without a home because he can't get help from his company.

Former Bengal Bob Trumpy says the players association has ripped off its rank and file. He says Upshaw is too cozy with the league.

"Upshaw has claimed labor peace, but he has done it at the expense of the retired players," Trumpy said. He believes the players association has a moral obligation to the players who made today's wealth possible, but he doesn't know how to make things right.

"Ownership knows that if they get involved in paying the medical bills of ex-players, they'll go broke," he said. "I can't think of some magic bullet to fix this."

Conrad Dobler has a suggestion. For a few years, Dobler, a former NFL offensive lineman, has been the poster man for a system gone wrong. He has so much plastic in his knees, he could open a G.I. Joe factory. Between him and his four former linemates, Dobler said to me, "We don't have enough body parts to make a whole person."

Dobler suggests putting 2 percent of the salary cap into a retirement fund. I'm not an accountant; I wouldn't know how that might work. I'm not a rich, egocentric current player, either, so I don't know if they'd go for it.

But it's a start. Meantime, let's do something for Brian DeMarco, shall we? The way it is now, it just doesn't look good.

Ex-NFL players address Congress

2007-06-27T18:10:00.001-04:00

Retirees seek change in league's disability benefits system

By Jeff Barker
Baltimore Sun Reporter

June 27, 2007

WASHINGTON -- It was a day of tears - but also relief - for retired NFL players who hope their accounts of debilitating football injuries will move Congress to demand reform of a "broken" disability benefits system.

"Thank God for Congress. Maybe they're going to do something," Hall of Fame guard Joe DeLamielleure said after a House of Representatives Judiciary subcommittee heard from four former players, an NFL representative and others.

Members of the Subcommittee on Commercial and Administrative Law listened to former players, including Hall of Famers Harry Carson and Mike Ditka. Some lawmakers expressed sympathy for retired players' plights and said they would study possible reforms. Several lawmakers said they would consider legislation strengthening ex-players' rights to be part of union activities, while others said they wanted the
arbitration process speeded up.

Rep. Maxine Waters, a California Democrat whose husband, Sidney Williams, played in the NFL (including one season with the Baltimore Colts), said she was alarmed to learn that little more than 300 players currently qualify for disability benefits. Since up to 10,000 have played in the league, "that does not compute. Football is a
dangerous game," Waters said.

Douglas W. Ell, counsel to the players' retirement plan, said the system has been unfairly maligned.

"Unfortunately, a great deal of what has been said or written about the benefits available to NFL players has been wrong or misleading," Ell told the panel. "The players association and the NFL have created the most generous disability benefits in professional sports, and possibly the entire business world," he said.

The retirement plan's fund contains $1.1 billion and covers retirement, disability and death benefits. Retired players can receive $110,000 per year if they are declared "totally and permanently disabled" within 15 years after leaving football. There are also various levels of partial disability.

Former players apply for benefits through administrators in Baltimore. The applicant is sent to a retirement board-approved physician. If the player disagrees with the decision, he can appeal to a retirement board composed of three NFL management representatives and three players union representatives.

"The door is then slammed shut on the player," said Rep. Hank Johnson, a Georgia Democrat. "The door is shut and there is no one there."

Of 1,052 initial claims since 1993, 675 have been denied at the initial stage, according to written testimony provided to the panel.

Thirty-two players have sued to try to win benefits, and almost none have succeeded. Seven such lawsuits are pending.

"It's right versus wrong, period," Ditka told the panel. "Do the ethical thing or do the wrong thing. And they've chosen to do the wrong thing."

Dennis Curran, an NFL senior vice president, said the league is open to revisiting the rule that says players have a 15-year window after retirement to file certain claims.

"Fifteen years is really a joke," said Carson, who is 53. "Having been out of the league 19 years, I'm starting to feel things. The whole post-concussion thing has manifested itself over the years."

Earlier in the day, a dozen retired NFL players appeared at a news conference to promote their cause. One by one, they walked or were assisted to the National Press Club lectern.

There was former Jacksonville Jaguars lineman Brian DeMarco, who cleared his throat and apologized for becoming "emotional" as he described being homeless three times in recent years. He said he has rods and screws in his back and can barely walk but that he has been in a long fight over benefits.

There was Garrett Webster, the son of the late Pittsburgh Steelers center Mike Webster, who said his father "died cold, alone, on the floor" and addicted to painkillers. He was dead by the time a federal judge in Baltimore awarded his family significant new pension benefits in 2005.

There was Bernie Parrish, a white-haired former Cleveland Browns defensive back, who said: "We have been betrayed, and we're not going to take it anymore."

And there was Sandra Unitas, the widow of Baltimore Colts legend John Unitas. She held up a hook with a rubberized handle that she said her Hall of Fame husband used to button his shirts because of an injury dating to a 1968 preseason game.

DeMarco, Webster, Parrish and Unitas said they believed there were troubling holes in a system that some called "broken." Parrish said he and others had lost faith in the NFL Players Association's resolve to defend their interests. Gene Upshaw, the union's executive director, declined an invitation to attend the hearing, the committee said.

Sandra Unitas, 63, said her husband was "very, very disappointed" that his disability claim was denied for a tendon injury in his famous right arm - a rejection the NFL says was warranted because Unitas was healthy enough to hold a job.

Former Miami Dolphins running back Eugene "Mercury" Morris said he saw a message in the treatment of Unitas. "If they did that to Johnny Unitas, then they'll do that to anybody," Morris said.

NFL Former Players

Rush for a Cause

Flag football is king for day at Rooney's residence in Dublin

Archie Roberts comes full circle in the NFL

Los Angeles Timesby Jerry CroweJuly 4, 2010

After playing only one game as a professional in the 1960s, Roberts focused on a career as a surgeon. He now has partnered with the NFL Players Assn. to screen retired players for heart disease.

"I was never diagnosed with a concussion"

"I have to jot things down to remember them"

Mike Adamle won't let anything stop him

18-game NFL season idea pains Pro Bowler Wilber Marshall

Young player had brain damage more often seen in NFL veterans

Chris Henry data sound football alarm

Danger to the Brain

WVU doctors: Chris Henry had chronic brain injury

Former Bengal Henry Found to Have Had Brain Damage

Former Bengal Henry Found to Have Had Brain Damage

Congress invokes antitrust

Federal papers reveal shredding

Matt Stover's letter to members of the NFL Players Association

Stover e-mail shows plan to find successor to NFLPA boss Upshaw

1997 Baltimore Sun article on John Unitas

Increased Heart Risk Seen for Retired NFL Players

Goodell: League's CBA not working

Upshaw: No need for an NFLPA heir

Foxworth tired of Upshaw bashing

Playing football for the love of the game

Wives of handicapped and fallen NFL Alumni fight the good fight

Helping former players not among union’s top priorities

Former Redskins Linebacker Wins Disability Appeal Before 4th Circuit

The Wrecking Yard (May 2001 Sports Illustrated article)

Weak Coverage

Lawmakers Pressing Pro Football Issues

Maroons Madness

Brain injuries; something soldiers and athletes have in common

Gridiron Greats Media Alert

A Go-To Guy Sees Himself in a New Role

NFL, union unveil plan for needy retired players

DITKA AND RETIRED PLAYERS RESPOND TO NFLPA & NFL ANNOUNCEMENT

Goodell and Upshaw Meet With Ex-Players

Sides take first step

Commissioner Goodell, players union Upshaw meet with retirees

NFL adversaries try to resolve retiree funding

Vick is topic of discussion after NFL, union form alliance to help retired players

UF uses technology in dealing with concussions

Many traumatic brain injuries go undiagnosed

NFL fumbling pensions of disabled ex-players

Hall of Fame blocker is on a crusade for NFL retirees

Call to mind: Nowinski aggressively tackles issue of concussions in sports

Hoge has vital story for NFL

Ex-QB Enke among fortunate few who don't need NFL aid

A Long Walk for Those Who Responded to 9/11

Retired Colts skeptical of NFL plan

Upshaw raking in $6.7 million

Uoshaw's compensation at least $6.7 million

Ask the fans

Life AFTER the NFL: Giant/SCSU legend Carson helping lead benefits battle

Reconsidering our responsibility for damaged lives

Kenneth MacAfee, former NFL player, dead at 77

Life AFTER the NFL: Colt/USC star Hawkins thinks he's fortunate on the issue of health

NFL retirees feel forgotten as fight for benefits rages

The NFL's grave mistake

NFL fails on disability issue, House panel told

NFL, union drops ball with callous attitude

Congress Considers Action to Help Former N.F.L. Players

NFL testimony is stark, disturbing

Ex-49er suing over league's disability plan

Column: Who's At Fault For NFL Injuries?

Opinion: Santa Cruz (Calif.) Sentinel

NFL no match for aging vets

Ex-NFL players address Congress

Los Angeles Times
by Jerry Crowe
July 4, 2010