The Battle of the Sexless: “My son will never play football”
Our resident married mommy, Jennifer Eakins (@themondaymommy) and our resident post-collegiate bachelor, Rich Kurtzman (@richkutzman) go to battle (satirically) for a feature we like to call “Battle of the Sexless”. In this installment Jennifer and Rich debate the question:
“would you let your son play football?”
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Ladies first. Jennifer weighs in:
The Jaguars will win the Super Bowl before my son plays tackle football on any level. Given the fact that Jacksonville is a crappy franchise with even worse talent on the actual football field, I feel pretty safe that my son never plays a down with pads on.
Football has always been violent in nature, but has evolved way beyond the safe realm for my liking. At the professional level, we witness at least one if not multiple cart yielding injuries every Sunday. While only some of those involve head injuries, what we now know about the severity of even a hard tackle should be enough to cause concern to parents everywhere. Brain injuries and the lifelong struggle that comes with them, have been somewhat swept under the rug as far as the NFL was concerned for decades.
In recent years, with the growing number of mental illness related deaths as well as a lawsuit filed against the NFL by its former players, the topic has garnered much more attention. Even though the level that we are talking about for the purpose of this article is nowhere near as destructive as the NFL, getting hit repeatedly as a growing Pop Warner, optimist, junior high and high school boy is not without its share of consequences.
Kids learn to hit from the very beginning and are not capable of understanding how the body works. When explaining to a six-year old about head injuries and helmet to helmet hits, they hear either the teacher from Charlie Brown or Homer Simpson’s; subconscious circus theme song. Trusting our children’s bodies to play a violent game where they feel completely protected and invincible is something I am just not comfortable with. There are endless videos on YouTube showing crazy hard helmet to helmet hits by athletes as young as five years old. Here is just one example of a young boy just getting laid out by another little guy.
To be very clear, I do feel that team sports are essential in a child’s development.
I grew up playing sports from a very young age and feel strongly about their benefits. I am also very adamant that children should play multiple sports, and not focus solely on one in order to excel and propel them to a higher level. Putting strain on one type of muscle group year round is just not setting their bodies up for success in the long run. The self esteem and confidence that comes from being a part of a team, whether winning or losing, is a very important element to a healthy childhood leading into adulthood. Respect for their teammates and coaches, is also a valuable lesson that can be attained early on with sports.
If you have read any of my prior articles on this site or any other, you know that I love the game of football. True, I have never been on the field in pads. I never played organized football and thankfully have never been tackled, on the field or otherwise. Unless of course, some powder puff intramural stuff in college and a few Thanksgiving Day pick-up games count. There also was one crazy football game on North Campus at the University of Georgia in a snowstorm that involved a large amount of adult beverages. There may or may not have been tackling that day, but it still doesn’t count.
I obviously am not writing this piece from the place of someone who has played the game extensively. My role as a mom and not the NFL journalist is where my thoughts in this article are based. Both my husband and I watch our fair share of football and our four year-old is starting to really get into it. Well, he loves the team names, helmets and logos but it’ s a start.
When he inquires about playing the game, we will have to explain to him that the sport is just too violent. With the proven occurrence of chronic traumatic encephalopathy or CTE from repeated hits to the brain, I do not want to put my son at risk when the evidence is right in front of us. He is free to play all the flag football his little heart desires, being able to run routes, pick off his share of quarterbacks and participate in some fun touchdown celebrations.
However, as long as he is under my roof, he will not play tackle football.
Holy cow, I sound like such a mom.
And now our bachelor get his hard-earned $.02 in:
“League of Denial?” More like “League of DUH.”
So, you’re tellin’ me football causes concussions?
No shit.
Next you’ll tell me drinking 10 beers during NFL Sunday is giving me brain damage too.
Oh, it is?
Worth it.
That’s exactly what all these steroid using, gold jacuzzi buying, 50-slut slaying NFL players think.
“Brain damage? Fuck it! I get to go out and hit these dumbasses every play; poke them in the eye, punch and knee them in the nuts every play!”
Hey, I’ve got football-playing friends, and this is how they talk.
And guess what? They have labels on the back of every, single helmet that warns a player “You might actually DIE if you use this the wrong way, you stupid sonofabitch.”
Of course, if you went to a high school like mine (Thomas Jefferson), then there are probably no coaches qualified to teach you how to tackle the right way.
When I played – only freshman year, because I was totally focused on the ladies after that – I got at least two “dings,” which is what we called ’em back in my day.
None of this pussy “post-concussion syndrome” bullshit.
On one play, in practice, the coach really got on this senior, who would soon be suiting up for a major Division I school. He told the dude, “You better hit this freshman!” and he did. All 150 pounds of me ran off the block and went up to block him, a 230-pound senior linebacker, who picked me up, carried me 10 yards and body-slammed me into the ground.
When my head smashed into the hard ground, lights flashed before my eyes and there was a ringing in my ears. The coach was so impressed he said it was the final rep of our drills and we went to watch 11 on 11s. I stood there dazed and wondered if I was OK. You bet your ass I wasn’t bitching to teammates.
The last thing you want to do is complain “My head huts,” because all you’ll hear is, “You’re OK,” or “You need a bottle, baby?”
The second “ding” came during warm-ups of a JV team’s game, when a senior tight end smashed his helmet into mine. These were warmups, and it reminded me we were playing a violent game. Play hard – play at 100 percent – or get hurt and go home.
Did I cry, “Coach, I need to sit down”? Hell no.
I kept going, kept running, kept hitting and kept playing the game I love, football.
It’s the same thing with football players today, on the high school, college and NFL levels; they live for the violence.
We’re a violent culture and we love to watch people violently hitting one another. In turn, these massive men love bashing into one another more than we can comprehend.
Hell, Junior Seau fed into the machismo of the sport when he told NFL Films in order to be great, a player has to give up their body to the game.
Only a few years after he retired, one of the greatest players of the generation killed himself.
As Jim Otto said on “League of Denial,” the players understand the risks that come with playing football. They thrive in that environment. They’re dominant.
Shit, Otto himself said Mike Webster – who was featured in the first 30 minutes of “League of Denial” – would have echoed his sentiments, that he loved the game and would take a second-rate lifestyle post-NFL for the fame, fortune, glory and violence during their careers.
Playing in the NFL is to be elevated to god status; you live in a mansion, have sex with cheerleaders and other beautiful women and get paid these crazy amounts of money to play a game we all love, football!
Who wouldn’t want to do that? Even if you end up committing suicide at 50?
Sign me the fuck up, dudeski.
And if I have kids – please, God, don’t let me have any kids roaming the planet currently – you bet your ass they’ll play football. I love watching the Broncos, and they will too. Of course they’re going to want to play. Maybe I can raise the next Wes Welker or Peyton Manning, you never know, bro.
Don’t forget all the great benefits of playing the sport; teamwork, selflessness, discipline, and fame; the next generation of kids deserve to learn what it’s all about.
I’m out.
Rich Kurtzman
