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Player X Presented by Samsung: Currency of pain
Player X [ARCHIVE]
ESPN The Magazine
Oct 12, 2009
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There are some things a fan just can't understand. Here's one: You have no idea how violent, how dangerous, how painful the NFL really is.
Carson Palmer said recently he thinks a player is going to die on the field. While I'm not saying it will happen, it's definitely possible. Every year guys get bigger, faster and stronger. Players weighing 300 pounds are running 4.6s, 4.7s. Collisions are more violent. Head injuries, paralysis, death -- we all know it could be around the corner.
Though fans rarely see it, the line of scrimmage is the most dangerous spot on the field. The average defensive lineman is about 290 pounds (350 pounds if you're Albert Haynesworth). The average O- lineman is about 310. On plays where the offensive line double-teams a D-lineman, that's 620 pounds against 290. That's scary.
I've seen guys get twisted up taking on two blockers and separate their shoulders, tear their ACLs. Hell, I've heard it happen. I've seen linemen ruin their backs trying to stand up straight with their arms extended, holding off a bull-rushing defensive end. I've seen a guy's finger get caught between helmets and explode like a melon.
Fans don't understand the long-term effects of those collisions. I know guys who can't wear a wedding ring because the band won't fit over their busted-up finger. I've seen guys so arthritic they can barely move; linemen who can no longer pick up their kids; ex-running backs with lingering concussion headaches.
Someone is gonna knock Hines Ward out.
I've also seen guys become addicted to painkillers. While those meds are better controlled these days (you can get them only from a team doctor after surgery), anti-inflammatories are still common. We know the risks (damage to your kidneys), but everyone needs them at one time or another.
Right after a game I don't feel much because my adrenaline is still elevated. But I wake up every Monday feeling like crap. On Tuesday mornings, I still feel like I got run over by an 18-wheeler. You get used to it. For me it's a macho thing: I know I did my job if I wake up and it takes me 10 steps to straighten out my back.
It's enough to make a grown man cry, not that you'll ever see it in the locker room. At most, guys will groan a tiny bit.
What's up?
Hurtin'.
That's it. The isolated complaint is fine if you're Brett Favre, who's never missed a start, or Walter Jones, who can't take anti-inflammatories because of his kidneys. But pain tolerance is currency in the NFL. I've played games at 60% just to bank respect from teammates. The next time I ask them to follow me, they will.
On the flip side, one of the worst reps you can get in this game is "soft." Miss a few practices, take yourself out of a game, refuse to play with an injury that isn't vital to your position -- say, a cornerback with a bruised hand -- and guys start to talk. If you're on a losing team, and tension is high, you might get called out, get your manhood challenged. That's going to result in a fight. Every time.
You're better off being called "dirty" than soft. It's okay to bend rules, right up until you hurt somebody. We players have our own justice system. A guy hurts me playing dirty, and he'll get it from my teammates. With the stuff Hines Ward does -- cracking back, blindsiding players in the head -- someone's gonna knock him out.
Still, you don't think about the danger when you're playing. Maybe that's the way anybody in a dangerous job thinks, whether you're a fighter pilot or a policeman. And football has a funny way of protecting you if you're going full speed. I can't tell you how many times I've seen a guy get hurt because he pulled up and just got whacked.
To tell the truth, when you're injured the pain isn't the worst part. It's the loneliness. I've heard soldiers talk about getting hurt on the battlefield, and not being able to go out the next time with their group. They all say they'd put their life in danger to be out there with their guys. Football and war aren't the same, but I can relate to that. If your team loses, you get a sick sense you could've changed the outcome. There's something addictive about the adrenaline rush, the camaraderie, feeling a part of something bigger than yourself. You miss that.
Come to think of it, getting back out on the field is the best painkiller of all.
Player X is an NFL star. This is his fourth column in a series of unfiltered looks into the lives of professional athletes.
