I am not sure what the future holds. Probably not much will change in the near future. 15-20 years down the road, who knows?
By the way, I didn't know that Rashaan Salaam had committed suicide. Wow.
Hey, @IlliniEast, what is your take on this?
Link to the NYT article
By the way, I didn't know that Rashaan Salaam had committed suicide. Wow.
Hey, @IlliniEast, what is your take on this?
Link to the NYT article
Two University of Colorado regents have spoken out about the morality of colleges supporting big-time football. “I can’t do this anymore,” said one who cast a vote against football.
* * *
He was preaching that old-style pigskin religion. Unfortunately, Tucker, who came from the University of Georgia, runs a football program that has produced at least a half-dozen players — including several who played in the N.F.L. — who have killed themselves. Other former players are alive but afflicted by severe post-concussion problems.
Two university regents, dissenters from the Church of Hit, Hit and Hit, read Tucker’s remarks and shook their heads. A few days later, these heretics voted against his five-year, $14.75 million contract. They could not block the contract, but another cannon had been fired in the football concussion wars.
* * *
No freshman player, Rueda said, ever declined to sign a health waiver.
I sought the counsel of Brian Cabral on the question of better training. He was a magnificent linebacker at the University of Colorado and played nine years in the N.F.L., earning a Super Bowl ring with the Chicago Bears. Then he returned to Colorado and became a linebacker coach.
He recruited the running back Salaam and coached the linebacker Wahlroos, both of whom are dead. He also coached Ted Johnson, a brilliant linebacker who has spoken with aching honesty of his struggles with depression and memory loss after more concussions than he can count.
Cabral loves the band of brothers aspect of football, and yet he cannot dodge the shadows. He knows too much, and several times during our conversation he paused, choked up.
“I hate to say this, but I taught players what I was taught,” he said.
And what was that technique?
“Put your helmet right in the guy’s jaw and drive up through his throat to his head,” he said. “I regret it, I really do.”
* * *
He was preaching that old-style pigskin religion. Unfortunately, Tucker, who came from the University of Georgia, runs a football program that has produced at least a half-dozen players — including several who played in the N.F.L. — who have killed themselves. Other former players are alive but afflicted by severe post-concussion problems.
Two university regents, dissenters from the Church of Hit, Hit and Hit, read Tucker’s remarks and shook their heads. A few days later, these heretics voted against his five-year, $14.75 million contract. They could not block the contract, but another cannon had been fired in the football concussion wars.
* * *
No freshman player, Rueda said, ever declined to sign a health waiver.
I sought the counsel of Brian Cabral on the question of better training. He was a magnificent linebacker at the University of Colorado and played nine years in the N.F.L., earning a Super Bowl ring with the Chicago Bears. Then he returned to Colorado and became a linebacker coach.
He recruited the running back Salaam and coached the linebacker Wahlroos, both of whom are dead. He also coached Ted Johnson, a brilliant linebacker who has spoken with aching honesty of his struggles with depression and memory loss after more concussions than he can count.
Cabral loves the band of brothers aspect of football, and yet he cannot dodge the shadows. He knows too much, and several times during our conversation he paused, choked up.
“I hate to say this, but I taught players what I was taught,” he said.
And what was that technique?
“Put your helmet right in the guy’s jaw and drive up through his throat to his head,” he said. “I regret it, I really do.”
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