I wrote about how far sports injuries have come, or rather the way they are treated.
As much as I love European football (soccer), I still can’t stand it when an ultra-fit racehorse of an athlete gets knicked on his boot and down he goes, writhing in ungodly pain and what looks like a certain career-ending injury.
Then the referee blows his whistle and awards a free kick for the offense.
Now, miraculously, the same athlete gets up, maybe a few perfunctory limps to emphasize where he was assaulted and off he goes, as if nothing ever happened, which it didn’t because he is a little pussy faking son of a bitch.
But I have a solution.
Any injury that takes a player longer than thirty seconds to recover from means they sit for a period of five minutes before being allowed back on the pitch. And in fairness, the player booked for the foul must sit for five also.
I guarantee it would eliminate the pussy crybabies and their horseshit antics.
It’s a little like the “flop” fouls being called on the losers trying to fish for a foul in basketball.
All sports have injuries, but keeping kids away from contact sports is a stupid thing for some crybaby parents to try. All you are doing is highlighting the fact your kid is a pussy and now fair game to get his ass kicked by normal kids. This will last their entire childhood so when they snap and kill a few people, don’t come on the TV saying he is a good kid and he would never ever do something like that.
Liar.
Some of the UFC fights produce some hellacious injuries, but our eyeballs are glued to the action for three rounds which we hope will produce a maiming or worse.
I caught hell by the Pop Warner people when I was coaching because I would use the “Oklahoma” drill to prep my boys for the hitting they would endure on gameday. I didn’t use it to hurt my kids; I used it so that when the fourth quarter arrived, they would be ready for more and would not wilt down the stretch. For a while, I skirted the rule by calling it the “Top Dog” drill, but really it was the same.
We placed two helmets about four feet across from each other and had the boys line up on either side of the imaginary line of scrimmage. Then the ball would be handed to an offensive player who would attempt to run straight over the defender between the two helmets. We ran rounds until one player emerged with the title of Top Dog. I had one kid who was clearly the Alpha, as he was the best athlete on the field, and I could have played him in any position and he would still be the best player on the field.
I would end up playing him on the offensive line to lead the way for our backs and QB.
We could not coach with same mentality as the men who coached US, or you would be kicked out of the league.
I have had thirteen major surgeries, a score of minor surgeries, broken toes, feet, ankles, legs, kneecap, clavicle, ribs and jaw, not to mention the numerous concussions, which were not even acknowledged when I played. We would joke about “getting our bell rung,” when what we were laughing off were concussive head traumas. It might, and did, happen two or three times per game.
It is for all these reasons that I support the idea of athletes receiving free insurance policies from the colleges they attend. The NIL (name, image, and likeness) policies have professionalized sports, but with such big numbers generated by sports, it is unavoidable and something that is here to stay.
If you don’t want your kid to be injured, don’t prevent them from playing contact sports. Put them in leagues with coaches that can teach them how to play and avoid and mitigate some of the crushing hits that can and will happen.
Get them ready to play.
Knock off the junk foods and get off the couch. Put down the phone. Stop the sugary drinks and foods.
I had to let my kids know the difference between playing hurt and playing injured.
Everybody plays hurt. Aches, bruises, and scrapes happen, even in practice. But I wouldn’t allow a player to play injured, no matter what the stakes. It cost us an important game when we lost our speedy halfback to what appeared to be a “shake it off” ankle twist.
He swore up and down the sideline that he was OK and he knew he could break one more TD run to put us into the state playoffs. I actually thought about it for a second, but when I saw him trying to hide a small limp, I had to sit him.
We lost, and I think those kids still might be mad at me about that.
Forty years later.
The OLD me doesn’t blame ’em a bit.
Stay well.
