I couldn't help but think of former linebacker Ted Johnson when the Patriots kicked off minicamp this week, because of his eerie description of bracing himself for the first hit of spring. Johnson said he knew it would trigger the old, familiar, warm sensation that precluded the onset of yet another concussion, a feeling so daunting that it ultimately led to his sudden retirement in 2005.
Johnson's concussions have left him with debilitating headaches, dizziness, and bouts of depression during which he does not leave his darkened bedroom for days.
He is hardly alone. Before his suicide at age 44, former Eagles defensive back Andre Waters, who once said he had "lost count" after sustaining 15 or more concussions, experienced similar symptoms. Another former defensive back, Gene Atkins, a 10-year NFL veteran with the Saints and Dolphins, told me yesterday he has been periodically suicidal (he has since found medication) and still languishes for days, unable to drag himself out of bed.
"I'm depressed all the time," Atkins said in a phone interview. "I don't even have the will to play with my kids. It's bad.
"I'm just not the same person I once was."
Since Johnson and Atkins stepped forward and publicly shared their stories, the pressure has been mounting for the NFL to address the long-term effects concussions are causing players.
Commissioner Roger Goodell, who termed concussions "a big issue for us," recently announced a fund to help defray the costs of former NFL players who suffer from Alzheimer's disease and other forms of dementia.
He is implementing mandatory neuropsychological testing for all NFL players to establish an individual baseline, and will call for subsequent testing for anyone who suffers a concussion.
Goodell has stressed that medical decisions must always override competitive considerations, and is establishing a "whistle-blower" system so players (or team medical personnel) feeling pressured to return to the field can report their concerns anonymously.
These are positive steps, yet the NFL continues to discredit data that suggests a link between multiple concussions and long-term health problems such as depression or early Alzheimer's.
The University of North Carolina's Center for the Study of Retired Athletes recently released a study that found 20.2 percent of the 595 former NFL players surveyed who had sustained at least three concussions were found to be suffering from clinical depression. Some NFL officials immediately shot down the findings, saying the data was based on a survey, not a clinical study, and the results were relying on the memories of athletes without any medical confirmation.
There's little doubt the disparity between NFL research and independent research on concussions will come up during a league summit in Chicago June 19. The presenters will include members of the NFL medical community, but also a few "outside" specialists, including Dr. Robert Cantu, the co-director of the Neurological Sports Injury Center at Brigham and Women's Hospital.
Cantu has treated Johnson and other former NFL players and will make two presentations: what the "return to play" criteria should be, and when an athlete should retire. Reached at his Concord office yesterday, Cantu declined comment until after the summit.
Chris Nowinski, a former pro wrestler and author of the book "Head Games: Football's Concussion Crisis ," isn't convinced the summit will change the way the NFL operates.
"There's a concern it will be a dog and pony show," Nowinski said. "I don't know if they are going into this with an open mind, or if they are doing it just for PR reasons."
Nowinski reports five more former NFL players who suffered multiple concussions have contacted him with reports of depression. Some have revelations, he said, that will be "explosive."
"The fact the NFL has taken so long to react to this is a terrible black eye. I can't fathom why they spend more time focused on the conduct issues of their players, and whether or not they are wearing the wrong hat [a reference to Chicago linebacker Brian Urlacher being fined $100,000 at the Super Bowl for wearing a Vitaminwater hat, which is not an NFL sponsor]. But at least concussions are finally on the list."
Concussions have long been the league's dirty little secret. The list of NFL stars affected by repeated blows to the head is lengthy. Some, such as former Giants linebacker Harry Carson, Jets receiver Al Toon, and Steelers running back Merril Hoge, have shared their struggles. Others, such as former Cowboys quarterbacks Troy Aikman and Roger Staubach, and former 49ers quarterback Steve Young, have suffered in silence. Atkins said the culture of the NFL discourages players from revealing injuries, particularly because they do not have guaranteed contracts.
"When I hit my head, I didn't feel like I could sit out," Atkins said. "If you did, players thought you were trying to take a down off, or you were 'soft.' I stayed in the games for those reasons."
Nowinski, who suffered multiple concussions during his career with
"It would be great if the NFL would admit what the rest of the educational community knows -- that there is plenty of evidence that concussions are connected to neurological problems later in life," Nowinski said. "Their position on that is embarrassing."
Is the NFL serious about tackling the issue, or is the upcoming summit merely window dressing to appease critics? And why have requests to have the sessions videotaped been denied?
Here's an idea, Mr. Commissioner. If you are truly concerned about the future of your players, then you need to expand your guest list in Chicago. You need to fly in Ted Johnson and Gene Atkins to get their testimonials. If you really want to understand the effects of concussions on your athletes, then why not ask them directly? Neither Johnson nor Atkins has heard from an NFL official since they revealed their struggles.
"If I have one issue with the NFL, that would be it," Atkins said. "It's tough enough when you go through this, but when you don't have someone in your corner who is willing to try and figure out what's wrong with you, it makes it so much worse.
"I played 10 years in the league. I respect the NFL. I prided myself on being one of their top players. I never smoked, drank, or did any kind of drugs -- nothing to cause me to feel this way.
"They should own up to what's right. It's like I tell people all the time -- if you take two cars and smash them together, over and over, at some point those two cars are no longer fixable."
It's convenient to dismiss guys such as Atkins and Johnson, whose careers are over and glory is past. They are no longer the NFL's primary concern, and they have slipped from our consciousness, too, because they are no longer wowing us.
But guess what: There have been enough head-on collisions in Foxborough the past few days to fill two body shops.
Today's stars are tomorrow's statistics. If the NFL truly wants to make a difference, it would listen to the list of battered retirees, a list that continues to grow at an exceedingly alarming rate.
Jackie MacMullan is a Globe columnist. Her e-mail address is macmullan@globe.com. ![]()