NFL's enormous challenge to contain on-field violence

The Eagles' Sheldon Brown leveled Reggie Bush in the NFC playoffs. Kevin C. Cox/WireImage.com

In July, I wrote the following words: The NFL has a problem. The issue is violence. On the field.

The league has spent much of the soon-to-be-finished offseason dealing with the subject of head injuries and other disabilities suffered by current and former players. Medical professionals and other watchdogs have increased pressure on the NFL, arguing that the league does not do enough to protect its players.

This came at the beginning of a story I wrote for SI.com that was posted in conjunction with a 6,500-word cover story that appeared in the July 30 issue of Sports Illustrated. The story examined the phenomenon of big hits in the NFL -- how they occur, what they feel like, why they are popular with fans and what lasting effects they leave.

I did not attempt to write yet another study of concussions on the modern football player, yet that topic influenced my work from day one (Players think about injury all the time; they bring up the topic). Nor did I try to write a rollicking ode to the big blow, yet that element made itself known as well (Players also savor the big hit more than you can imagine). I found what might have been a simple topic (collisions between players) to be, in fact, terribly complex on many levels.

Sunday's injury to Kevin Everett of the Bills only underscores that complexity. The news from Buffalo is a little different each day, and as of late Tuesday seemed to be markedly, even miraculously, better. From the grim prognosis of Monday, doctors are now saying that there is a chance to Everett might recover and live a normal life. Surely every player in the league breathed a sigh of relief.

Yet in Everett's story is a powerful reminder. Again, these are the words I wrote in July and I stand by them more than ever. "One conclusion is inescapable: Football is an almost indescribably violent activity, destined only to become more so. Even if one gives the NFL the benefit of the doubt and accepts that it has the health of its players foremost in its thinking, controlling the mayhem on the field is an almost impossible enterprise.''

Everett's special-teams hit on Domenik Hixon of the Broncos did not appear demonstrably more violent than 100 others like it in any NFL game. Yet after hitting Hixon's upper chest with his own helmet and shoulder, Everett fell motionless to the turf with an injury to his cervical spine.

This is not the time to preach loudly, but only to hope for the best for Everett. And there is a reminder: Every hit in an NFL game is violent and concussive. These are big, fast athletes delivering multiple massive blows on every snap. Fans and media and everyone who does not wear a helmet should be ever aware and ever respectful of what takes place on the field. This is not a video game. These are human beings.

There is little doubt that it is incumbent upon the NFL to enhance the safety of its players. That is easy enough to voice. Much emphasis has been placed on how a player is treated after he suffers a concussion. Players have claimed that they were forced into action before they were sufficiently recovered from a head injury. Deceased players -- Andre Waters, Justin Strzelczyk, Mike Webster -- have been diagnosed as having suffered from degenerative brain conditions before death.

To this end, the NFL has emphasized penalties and fines for helmet contact for more than a decade. This year the league has instituted a whistle-blower system to guard against players being pressured into playing while hurt. It also is requiring baseline neuropsychological testing before the season. These are sound and rational actions. Yet they seem woefully inadequate.

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