I’m on a deadline, and I’ll be up late tonight working on the piece. Plus, I’ll get up early in the morning to work on it. So this will be a short post.
This morning, I watched First Take, and I was surprised by what I saw. Brandon Marshall called into the show, and he started to discuss issues of mental illness. He started to talk about stigma and the people on the South Side of Chicago. Take a listen to the video. I’m going to think about it a little bit more, and then I’ll write a blog about it tomorrow. Maybe you’ll want to share your thoughts in the mean time.
This morning, I was exchanging emails with my dad about concussions in football, and he wanted to remind me that he never let me play football. True, I wasn’t allowed to play football as a kid. And my dad wasn’t allowed to play football either. And he wanted to make sure that, one day, I kept the tradition alive.
Well, honestly, I’m not sure if I will or will not let my son play football. I know that I won’t let my son play football before the age of 14. The research shows that under 14, kids brains are still developing and their necks aren’t strong enough to support their oversized head. But when it comes to beyond 14, I might just let my son make his own choice.
Honestly, football is one of my favorite games to watch. I’m the biggest Patriots fan in the world. The reason the Patriots lost against the Seahawks was because I wasn’t watching the game or wearing my jersey. I cursed the team. (I had to conduct an interview.)
I’ll never forget the game when Tom Brady came back against the Oakland Raiders. I was still in high school, and I was watching the game at my grandparents’ house. It was pitch black outside, and the snow was stacked high. Cumulonimbus clouds were dumping down a wicked lot of snow. I remember feeling that the game was over, and the miraculous Patriots run was finally finished.
That’s when Tom Brady started connecting to Jermaine Wiggins and Troy Brown in the second half. That’s when Brady started to spike the ball into the snow so hard that he fell over with joy. That’s when the tuck rule bailed out our team. That’s when a sixth round draft pick — from out of no where — became a hero.
My grandmother, Mimi, was going crazy. She was sitting right next to my brother and me, holding our hands and screaming out every play. She didn’t like football — in fact she called it foosball and the Patriots the Pat ri awts. I wish I could spell it out phonetically, but I can’t. And she was right there with us, cheering at every play. It was almost like we were cheering for ourselves, too.
Man, when I look back at this video, an intense memory comes back. I watched the game back in my hometown, Clinton, Massachusetts. I was still in high school. I was lost and confused. And I remember, while watching Tom Brady bring life to a somewhat miserable franchise, I felt that anything was possible. Of course, when I write that everyone from Boston is going to be reminded of Kevin Garnett. That felt forced when he screamed, “Anything is possible.” But when Tom Brady marched down the field, in the snow, and Vinateri kicked that field goal, the snow didn’t seem so thick and the night didn’t seem so black.
Well, back to my original point. I tried to play football when I was younger, and my dad wanted me to make sure I remembered how miserable I was at football. Just in case I had any thoughts of letting my son play. My dad hated watching me play. He was so worried about me. This is what he wrote: “I remember that one play the running back got easily outside the tackle and you were the only DB in the area. You intentionally faked yourself out so you wouldn’t have to take him head on.”
I try to remember that season I played football differently. He was right though: I was pretty terrible.
The last couple weeks, I’ve been prepping for this upcoming week. I have several deadlines — a piece on concussion in the NFL, budget cuts, indie presses, and an art show. I’ve been interviewing like crazy and researching. I think the most interesting research that I’ve come across in the last couple weeks was a book by Dr. Robert Cantu and Mark Hyman called “Concussion and Our Kids.”
Ron Yary is the big guy.
Robert Cantu is one of the leading experts on head trauma, and he works out of Emerson hospital in Concord, Massachusetts — the same hospital where my brother was born. Cantu is one of the founders of the Sports Legacy Institute, which is one of the leading research centers on Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE). CTE is a degenerative brain disease, also known as being punch drunk. At the SLI, they conduct autopsies on brains, which have been donated by former athletes. They studied Junior Seau’s brain and Christ Benoit. They have come to understand there is a toxic protein called Tau in the brains with CTE.
Well, I’m not going to delve too much into CTE and head trauma — I’m obviously not a neurologist — but this book is something everybody should read, especially if you’re a parent or a person thinking about letting your son or daughter play sports. It reveals so much. And it’s not sensational; Cantu gives you ways to improve the safety of the game for your children. Check out the book.
But the reason I found out about this book was because I was at USC for a conference on violence in sports — a focus on football. Mark Hyman, the journalist and writer who worked with Dr. Cantu, spoke at the event, along with other specialists in the field. The forum was moderated by Professor Daniel Durbin. It was fascinating and a huge part in directing my research for the piece I’m writing.
So let me share with you a great story from the conference.
Ron Yary was another one of the people speaking on the panel at USC. Yary went to USC, and he was inducted into the NFL Hall of Fame. He played with the Vikings and the Rams. While he is an incredible advocate for football and has high hopes for his son to play at USC, he will not let his son play football until he his 14. Continue reading “End of Research and a Story from a NFL Hall of Famer”→
It’s been somewhat serious on the blog lately, and I want to lighten it up with five hilarious videos from Dan Le Batard’s show, Highly Questionable. Plus, I’m tired. Who doesn’t love Papi? So here they are:
Before I was even born, my mother was playing music directed towards her womb so I could hear. My mother used to sing at church, and for hours a day she was in our basement, playing and singing in front of a beat-up upright piano. The keys were jagged, and they would cut you if you weren’t careful. She taught my brother and me how to play.
So when it came time for me to choose my instrument, I took up the drums. I had a couple of bands as a kid, and I even went to college for music at Stetson University. They had a great program, but they were mostly a classic program with a very strict and small jazz program. Well, I wasn’t into that at the time — now I love classical — and during college I realized, suddenly, I didn’t want to make a living out of music. I didn’t want it to be the only thing in my life. One day, I will tell you the story of a great professor, Dr. Michael Raymond, who changed my life and made me want to be a writer.
I hated the music school at Stetson. I liked the people, but I hated the program. And it was a top-notch program — just not for me. I wanted to play the drum set, and I wanted to play the set LOUD. I used to go into the drum room, and one of the teachers used to complain that he couldn’t concentrate. So I quite to become a writing major, which is eventually my chosen path.
