Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Pensions in sports: Sports pension system one of checks and imbalances

Retirement benefits in baseball, NBA far outstrip those in NFL, whose program has ignited heavy criticism. But none is immune to controversy.

By Greg Johnson
L.A. Times Staff Writer
February 27, 2007

Baseball has been very good to Larry Dierker.

The right-hander tossed a no-hitter late in his 14-year career with the Houston Astros before moving to the broadcast booth and eventually becoming the team's manager. He also wrote books, newspaper columns and a blog about the game.

And in two years, Dierker, 60, will begin to receive $180,000 in annual retirement benefits - payback for sacrifices made in 1972, when, as a young union representative, he rallied support for baseball's first strike, over a pension funding dispute with owners.

"Nothing is what most 20-somethings know about pensions," said Dierker, who earned $125,000 at the height of his playing career and credits longtime players' union executive Marvin Miller for educating him about the importance of retirement planning. "I didn't realize how much the time value of money would change things for me over the years."

Baseball's pension - funded in 1947, two years before steelworkers won their pension - is the gold standard for union-represented athletes. But even its plan, which is relatively lucrative when compared with those offered by the NFL and NBA, has drawn criticism from former players who failed to win benefits or have seen the value of their monthly checks eroded by time and inflation.

The resentment now spans those three major American professional sports leagues and has only grown in recent years as franchise owners and current athletes enjoy the financial wealth created by lucrative broadcast rights deals.

Contrast what baseball will pay Dierker to what the NFL will provide former lineman Conrad Dobler, who at 56 would receive $24,000 annually if he were to immediately begin taking his pension - or $48,000 if he could unsnarl his finances and delay retirement until age 62.

The 10-year NFL veteran, who has had several knee operations and other ailments, maintains that he can't afford to take his relatively small pension now because doing so would preclude him from pursuing a long-contested disability claim with the NFL Players Assn.

"We're not begging, and we're not trying to take something we don't think we deserve," Dobler said. "We're simply trying to get back something that we worked so hard to get in the first place."

The bad blood is the result of a generational conflict that is unique to the sports world.

"The soul of unionism, whether we're talking coal miners in the 19th century, janitors today or NBA players, is solidarity," said University of California professor Harley Shaiken, who studies labor issues. "You are working together to improve everyone's position."

Union members typically work for decades, which gives them plenty of time to protect long-term interests. But professional athletes have brief careers, lose their union vote after their final game, and must depend upon subsequent generations to safeguard their retirement interests.

Federal law requires union leaders to represent the interests of current and future players rather than aging athletes, so improvements to previously negotiated benefits must be approved by current union members - and often by the franchise owners who foot the bills.

Many old-timers argue that today's athletes and owners have a moral obligation to care for players whose sacrifices set the table for today's eye-popping salaries, improved playing conditions and the soaring value of professional sports franchises.

"We won a pension plan by tearing it out of the hides of owners who had us under slave contracts," said Bernie Parrish, a defensive back with the Cleveland Browns during the 1960s and now a fierce critic of the NFL Players Assn.'s treatment of old-timers. "We won the pension plan that is a gift to today's players. But the older guys have been getting" a bad deal.

The generation gap is most evident in the NFL.

Retired NFL stars Mike Ditka and Jerry Kramer recently used a Super Bowl XLI news conference to promote a sports memorabilia auction to raise money to benefit retired football players.

Former Los Angeles Rams great Merlin Olsen is working with the Pro Football Hall of Fame to find sports marketing opportunities for former players. And Parrish is pressing Congress, which already has held one hearing, to dig deeper into his former union's retirement and disability plans.

"It's just disgusting," said Kramer, a former Green Bay Packers star who receives a $358 monthly football pension. "The physical and economic hardships many guys are forced to live with are due to the lack of an adequate pension and disability package."

Old-timers have been especially harsh in their criticism of Gene Upshaw, a former player who is the union's executive director. The NFL Players Assn. repeatedly declined requests in recent months to discuss pension and retiree medical benefit plans. But, during a Feb. 2 news conference, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell acknowledged that football should "reevaluate to see what we can do more to address the issues and we'll do that."

Whereas today's NFL players will qualify for severance pay, an annuity program, tuition reimbursement and a fund designed to help cover some future medical bills on top of their pension check, Dobler and others allege that the union and league are ignoring older retirees who played before salaries soared.

"It's as if we invested in this company called the NFL and we watched it grow to $6 billion in sales, yet our stock is still only worth $100," Dobler said.

Last year, Pro Football Hall of Fame member Herb Adderley protested his $126 monthly pension check as "below poverty level." A recent pension upgrade approved by the NFLPA will boost monthly checks for all retirees by a minimum of $50, but the former Packers defensive back says it isn't enough and is refusing to wear his Super Bowl and Hall of Fame rings.

The other big leagues also have drawn criticism.

For years, the NBA had different pre- and post-1965 service requirements: five years before; three years after. A new agreement - in addition to increasing the maximum annual pension benefit for a 10-year veteran from $124,000 to about $170,000 - will make pensions available to dozens of players who accumulated three or four years of
service before 1965. The plan also includes a death benefit to a player's widow.

Even baseball's gold-plated pension has drawn criticism from some former players - unrest that dates to 1980, when the MLB Players Assn. reduced the time it took for players to qualify for a pension from four years to one day.

The rule change didn't help players such as Carmen Fanzone, a third baseman for the Chicago Cubs during the 1970s. Fanzone, now 65, was cut by the Cubs just a few weeks short of the four years needed to vest. Baseball has talked about making the one-day rule retroactive, but it hasn't yet happened.

"It used to eat me to death thinking about it," said Fanzone, who carried a trumpet with him on the road and subsequently earned a living and a pension as a professional musician. "After I got cut, I called every club, but got no answer. Then I broke my ankle and couldn't come back."

Craig Skok was luckier. A pitcher who for years knocked around the minor leagues, Skok knew it was highly unlikely he'd ever be called to the big leagues. So he made his own call - to Ted Turner, then the Atlanta Braves' owner. Turner agreed to put the left-hander in the bullpen for two weeks, and even though Skok never entered a game he thus qualified for a $1,000 monthly pension.

Skok and other retired ballplayers unsuccessfully tried to persuade team owners to help fund benefits for players whose careers predated the 1980 rule change. The attempt was derailed, Skok said, after a separate group of players unsuccessfully sued Major League Baseball for pension benefits.

Former Montreal Expos pitcher Steve Rogers, who now oversees pension issues for the MLBPA, said the union recognizes its obligation to past players. "Each time we negotiate, we try to reach back a minimum of 10 years to get current benefits extended back in time," Rogers said. "There are now guys from the 1950s and 1960s who are earning benefits that are five or 10 times higher than what they earned while they were playing."

Miller, the baseball union's longtime executive director, said that he constantly reminded younger players of the need to care for past generations. During the 1960s, Miller invited widows of former baseball greats to speak to young players about their daily struggle to make ends meet with their then-miserly pensions.

"Along with creating self-interest, I wanted to establish an ironclad precedent that this is what you do - you take care of older people who came before you," Miller said.

Athletes who've been fortunate enough to be paid to play their beloved games acknowledge that it often is difficult for fans and today's players to empathize with aging athletes.

"The fallacy is that these guys played in the big leagues, so they must all have money," said Robert A. Elliott, a former center with the New Jersey Nets who is now a Phoenix accountant and investment advisor.

Elliott, now 55, earned $22,500 during his rookie year in 1977 and never earned a six-figure salary during his three-year NBA career. Elliott's monthly check will grow beyond the $3,200 he has been promised at age 62, thanks to the newly reworked pension. But many former athletes fall upon hard times financially and opt to take
pensions earlier - a practice that dramatically reduces monthly benefits.

"An awful lot of guys never thought about what they'd do after playing football," said Olsen, the Hall of Fame defensive tackle who enjoyed post-football success in sports broadcasting and Hollywood. "For many, that turns out to be a fatal mistake. They never found anything to replace the incredible chunk of life that was the game. Emotionally, it leaves them crippled ... and, financially, many of them never catch
up."

Although baseball players can begin to earn pension benefits during their first professional game, it is harder for athletes in other sports to qualify for pensions. The NFL and NBA each require three years of service.

In the NFL, that's just a little less than the span of an average career, which is just under four years. "That means a lot of guys in the league are getting some pretty limited benefits," said Ken Ruettgers, a former USC offensive lineman who played a dozen years with the Packers and now operates a program that helps pro football players transition into new careers.

League and union officials maintain that they have addressed real and perceived pension injustices.

Baseball owners in 1997 went so far as to create a charitable trust that provides pension-like payments to black athletes who, for generations, were locked out of what long was an all-white club.

The NFL has created funds that benefit players with financial and medical hardships. And even before the recent pension upgrade, the NBA had authorized lump-sum payments to some "pre-1965" players.

Yet it isn't enough for some old-timers.

Butch Byrd, 65, a defensive back with the Buffalo Bills in the 1960s who still holds a few team records, qualifies for about $60,000 annually - about double what he earned during his playing days - because he could afford to wait before drawing his pension.

He knows he's lucky. "A lot of guys, for whatever reason - sickness, personal reasons and whatnot - had to take it early," he said.

Now, word has spread among NFL alumni that Byrd, who leads the New England chapter of a retired players' association, is a go-to guy for veterans and their widows.

"On some days I hate to pick up the phone," Byrd said. "Because by virtue of a conversation with someone, I'm putting hope into their minds - and you don't know for sure that you're going to be able to deliver."

Aaron Taylor, who won a Super Bowl ring with the Packers in 1997 and now leads a Southern California NFL alumni group, shares the concern.

"The NFL is a multibillion-dollar business, but it's a shame and quite sad, frankly, to see men who were once warriors and stood proud on the football field, to be disabled, or to have [the league] they dedicated lives and bodies to be unsympathetic to their situation.

"It would be like the [knights] serving the king coming back from the battlefield bloody and bruised and the king essentially says, 'Too bad.' "

#####

greg.john...@latimes.com

*

Three plans

Plans for major sports. Information is as of end of fiscal years in
February and March 2005:

MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL

· Year originated: 1947.

· Participants: 7,403.

· Maximum annual benefit: $180,000 for a 10-year veteran who takes retirement at age 62.

· Net assets: $1.5 billion.

--

NFL

· Year originated: 1959.

· Participants: 9,560.

· Maximum annual benefit: $49,860 for 10-year veteran who takes retirement at age 62.

· Net assets: $841,761,127.

--

NBA

· Year originated: 1965.

· Participants: 1,328.

· Maximum annual benefit: $170,000 for 10-year veteran who takes retirement at age 62.

· Net assets: $121,122,852.

--

Source: Federal filings, players' unions, leagues

Sunday, February 25, 2007

Lamar Lundy

Lamar J. Lundy Jr.
April 17, 1935 - February 24, 2007)

Lamar Lundy, Jr. was the first child born to the union of Lamar Lundy, Sr. and Sarah Corine (Ferguson) Lundy. He was born on April 17, 1935 in Richmond, Indiana. He departed this life to return to his Heavenly Father on February 24, 2007, after an extended illness. Lamar was a member of Mount Olive Baptist Church under the stewardship of Pastor Earnest Randle.

Lamar attended Nicholson Elementary, Test Junior High and Richmond Senior High Schools, while growing up in Richmond. Lamar graduated from Purdue University in 1957 with a degree in physical education. While at Purdue, Lamar was the MVP in football and basketball in his senior season. He was the first black player to receive a football scholarship.

After graduating from Purdue University, Lamar moved his family to California to pursue a career in the National Football League. Lamar played 13 seasons for the Los Angeles Rams and was a member of the Fearsome Foursome. Upon retiring from the NFL, Lamar became an assistant coach, under the late Sid Gillman, for the San Diego Chargers. His coaching career was cut short due to illness.

Lamar is survived by two sons, Lamar III (Alice) Lundy of Richmond, Ronald Sr. (Vanessa) Lundy of Atlanta, GA and three daughters Vicki (Eric) Wilbon of Atlanta, GA., Tara Lundy of Long View, TX, and Annie Carter of Bellflower Ca., three brothers Gerald Lundy of Oakland, CA, Kenneth (Etta) Lundy of Richmond, CA and Michael (Doris) Lundy of Marionville, IL. Lamar was also blessed with nineteen grandchildren, five great grandchildren, and a host of cousins, nieces, and nephews. He also leaves to mourn his passing and celebrate his life, extended family members Jeff & Abbey Koons (& family), and Thomas Milligan.

His wise counsel, sense of humor, great faith and understanding ways will be sorely missed.

Friday, February 23, 2007

Today's celebs could learn lots from Johnny U.

Gwinnett Daily Post
Gwinett Co., Ga.

By Nate McCullough
02/23/2007

A biography that is as much an examination of another era as it is an account of a man's life has been a welcome respite for me the past few days in the midst of the incessant reports on train wrecks Anna Nicole and Britney. And yes, I left their last names out on purpose because a surname is unnecessary for either at this point.

"Johnny U: The Life and Times of John Unitas" by Tom Callahan chronicles the life of the legendary Baltimore Colts quarterback, a man many recognize as the best quarterback who ever lived. Anytime you invoke superlatives like "best" or "greatest" you invite debate, and I'm sure cases can be made for other players' claims to the title. What can't be disputed, however, is Unitas embodied a different sort of ethic and class that is completely lacking from modern celebrities.

Unitas retired before I was out of kindergarten, so I can't say I grew up a fan from watching games. What I knew of him came mostly from ESPN Classic, NFL Films and the occasional book that listed his records on the football field, of which there were many. What I can say is I've always admired the man for his achievements on the field and his physical toughness. Now I can add to that his integrity.

Among the many anecdotes in Callahan's book:

" Early in his career Unitas was cut from a team without being given a chance to play. He went to the coach and told him what he thought of the decision. After letting off steam he later went back looking for work on the practice squad because he needed a job.

Can you imagine Terrell Owens doing that?

" During a game, Unitas noticed one black player was visibly upset in the huddle and asked him what was wrong. The player said a guy on the opposing team was calling him racial slurs. Unitas instructed his lineman to let the offending player through on the next play. He then delivered some gridiron justice with a well-placed bullet pass to the forehead.

" When a fellow Colt was caught stealing from players' lockers every man voted the thief off the team, except Unitas, who said, "He's a teammate. He's got a family," and then went about saving the player's job.

Despite his hatred of the sin, Unitas went to bat for the sinner. How would the same situation turn out these days? Probably a gunfight in the locker room.

"In the twilight of his career, with bad legs and an ailing throwing arm, Unitas had his rights bought by San Diego, who signed him to a two-year contract for twice as much money as he'd ever before received. Knowing how hurt he was, right before putting his name on the contract, Unitas asked the Chargers' owner, "Are you sure you want me to sign this?"

Imagine Barry Bonds trying to turn down $30 million to come back for one last hurrah. You can't.

"While in San Diego, Unitas was at a party with his leg in a cast when he found out cocaine was being snorted in one of the rooms. Another player said the greatest record Unitas ever set was for how fast he went down three flights of steps on one leg trying to get away from the drug users.

The stories go on in "Johnny U." Unitas did work on his neighbors' houses. He gave strangers rides home. When he told his first wife about a family member having cancer, she said, "So what?" He divorced her, telling a newspaper columnist - off the record - "I'll never sleep with that woman again."

He played in charity golf tournaments on one condition - that they allow his son to play. He sent his sister hand-made birthday cards. He made time for his friends, family and fans. Autographs were a given for people that met him. All they had to do was ask.

Later in life, his throwing hand a gnarled claw from injuries, nearly broke because the greedy NFL refused (and still refuses) to pay out decent pensions to old-timers who are disabled, Unitas started making paid appearances at different events so he could have an income. It was at one of these shows that I met him.

I forget exactly what the fee was, but I know it wasn't much, maybe $20. While I waited in line I watched Unitas shake hands (left-handed), pose for pictures, smile at each person and painfully sign autographs. He held the Sharpie between his fingers and sort of balanced it with his thumb. He grimaced with each stroke.

But every autograph was a beauty, spread all the way across the photo and clearly legible, unlike the scribble most stars give you today, if they sign at all. I left with a signed picture and a big grin.

Unitas succumbed to heart disease a few years ago, so you can no longer get an autograph. But you can still meet him by picking up Callahan's book.

As for me, I've met a lot of famous people in my life, and I've always counted Unitas as one of the highlights. For years I've told people that I once met the world's greatest quarterback.

Now I'll tell them I met one of the world's great men as well.

Monday, February 12, 2007

Bustin’ heads in the NFL more unsafe than expected

February 12, 2007

By Davin White
Staff writer
The Charleston (WV) Gazette

MORGANTOWN — Dr. Julian Bailes, chairman of the Department of Neurosurgery at West Virginia University, is no stranger to high-profile cases involving brain injury.

Bailes was among the physicians working with Randal McCloy Jr. in the days, weeks and months following the Sago Mine explosion in early January 2006. His work also was noted in national media reports after the suicide death of Andre Waters, a former NFL player who suffered numerous concussions.

Bailes, also the medical director at the Center for the Study of Retired Athletes, and his colleagues at this North Carolina-based research center have found that mild cognitive impairment, a dementia precursor, is more common among pro football players.

The conversion rate from mild cognitive impairment (MCI) to dementia is about 20 percent, Bailes said. MCI is most common in the elderly.

“We found that both MCI and depression were more prevalent in retired NFL players than in the general population,” he said. A threshold of three or more concussions and the odds “astronomically went up.”

“So once you get that third one, you know, it seems that the long-term health consequences are much higher,” he said.

Bailes was a team physician for nine years with the Pittsburgh Steelers, and has served as the neurological consultant to the NFL Players’ Association since 1993.

He also was featured in a recent issue of the journal Neurosurgery, which reported that a computerized approach to counting punches at ringside during boxing matches helps identify certain characteristics related to deaths in the ring.

Bailes and Dr. Vincent J. Miele compared 10 bouts that led to the death of a fighter against 10 “classic,” highly competitive matches. They found that significantly more punches (and “power punches”) were landed per round in the fatal fights than in the classics.

The researchers hope the computerized statistical program used to score televised bouts might help stop one-sided fights before critical injury occurs.

Fighting for benefits

Updated: Feb. 8, 2007
By John Barr and Arty Berko
Special to ESPN.com

RENO, Nev. -- Brent Boyd grimaces as he folds his 6-foot-3 frame onto his living room couch, the scar on his recently replaced right knee the only outward sign of a body that has broken down. He reaches for the TV remote control, his favorite blanket and prepares to spend the next several hours in his modest home in the same familiar pose.

This is how Boyd spends most of his days, too exhausted to even get up off his couch.

It's hardly the life Boyd envisioned for himself when he graduated with honors from UCLA in 1980. He was selected by Minnesota in the third round of the NFL draft and immediately impressed Vikings head coach Bud Grant and the rest of the coaching staff with his ability to master every position on the offensive line. Press clippings from Boyd's rookie year contain quotes from Vikings coaches who raved about his intellect.

Today Boyd has been diagnosed as being clinically depressed. He is also withdrawn and so ashamed of what his life has become that he's cut himself off from friends and former teammates.

"I care about these people but I'm just embarrassed about my condition and I just kind of hang out here," Boyd says, his voice cracking.

To find out how Boyd sank this low you have to go back to his rookie year in 1980, to a preseason game in the Orange Bowl that would dramatically change his career and his life.

Outside the Lines
Sunday on "Outside the Lines" (ESPN, 9:30 a.m. ET), Brent Boyd is left fighting for medical benefits from the NFLPA that he feels he deserves after his NFL career. Motion ESPN Video

"The hit itself I don't remember," Boyd says of a blow to the head that left him momentarily unconscious. "I remember when I came to, I couldn't see out of my right eye and I kind of panicked."

After taking some plays off -- Boyd can't remember precisely how many -- he was told by Vikings coaches and the team's medical staff to get back in the game.

"This was 1980 and I don't even know if they used the word concussion," Boyd says. "You were just trained to stay in the game. … You want this job? They better carry you off in a coffin."

Boyd remains convinced he suffered many more concussions over the course of his seven-year NFL career, although that one game in Miami is the only time he lost consciousness.

In the weeks and months after the preseason game against the Dolphins, Boyd experienced physical and mental changes that would take him years to fully understand. He says headaches, dizziness and memory loss became a part of his daily life. Boyd eventually had difficulty remembering teammates' names. The player who, as a rookie, mastered every offensive line position says he could barely remember how to play left guard by his second year.

After a series of injuries, including a broken leg, Boyd was eventually released from the Vikings in October 1986.

"You know, I had such big plans and had graduated with honors from UCLA and at that time I think everybody who knew me thought this guy is going to go on to big things after football, besides football. I just couldn't," Boyd says, reflecting on the physical toll of his years in the NFL's trenches.

Boyd's friends at the time watched his marriage crumble, his drinking increase.

Barry Axelrod, who works primarily as a sports agent representing MLB players, got to know Boyd through a network of UCLA alumni. He recalls how he and others in the social circle of former Bruins judged Boyd in the years that followed his NFL career.

"[At first] we just thought, 'Well, god the guy got done playing football and now he's just … won't work hard and won't hold a job down and he's lazy,'" says Axelrod, Boyd's longtime friend.

"Now I feel badly about that because I didn't realize, in fact he didn't realize, that there was something physical going on that was causing this," Axelrod says.

Boyd says he suffered from persistent flu-like systems, that he had many days that felt like a bad hangover that wouldn't go away.

"I couldn't maintain the concentration that I had … I didn't have the drive that I had. The main thing is I was tired, I was dizzy," Boyd says.

"Here he was someone with all the potential to accomplish anything in the world and he couldn't manage a sales job because he would have to pull to side of the road and fall asleep," says Terry Lowey, a marriage and family therapist who has been treating Boyd since September for depression and anxiety.

It wasn't until 1999, after years of being misdiagnosed, that Boyd's depression and other lingering health problems were finally linked by doctors to the concussions he suffered as a player.

By that point, Boyd's inability to hold down a steady job had pushed his financial situation to the brink.

"They were losing their home, their car," Axelrod says. "They were on the verge of being homeless and, in fact, there were times when Brent was living out of his car."

Axelrod reached out to his clients and his network of UCLA alumni to start a fund for Boyd and his son Anders, whom he'd been supporting as a single parent since 1992.

Major leaguers Mark Grace, Rick Sutcliffe, Jeff Bagwell and former Bruins quarterback and actor Mark Harmon, among others, all agreed to provide financial assistance.

"The NFL wouldn't do a damn thing for me," Boyd says. "The major league baseball guys were making sure I was surviving and I hope that embarrasses the hell out of the NFL."

The NFL did provide a one-time payment available to players in dire need of financial assistance. Also with Axelrod's help, Boyd also reached out to the NFL Players Association for monthly disability benefits.

Retired NFL players are eligible for partial disability -- a minimum of $1,500 per month -- if they can simply demonstrate that their disability prevents them from working. But those same retirees can get full disability payments -- a minimum of $4,000 per month -- if they can prove their disability stems from a football-related injury.

ESPN has reviewed many of Boyd's medical files and confirmed his disability through documents and interviews with several of his current and former treating physicians.

But for Boyd, securing full disability benefits from the NFL Players Association would mean months of battling a retirement board comprised of league and union representatives.

In May of 2000, Boyd was sent by that board to see Dr. J. Sterling Ford, a San Diego neurologist. Dr. Ford wrote in his report that Boyd "had a least one significant closed head injury in the course of his playing career and, in all likelihood, had many other ill-defined ones."

When asked on the retirement board's standardized form if Boyd had "an illness or injury resulting from a football-related activity," Dr. Ford checked the box marked "yes."

Axelrod recalls how pleased he and Boyd were by Dr. Ford's findings.

"When a report comes in from an NFL-chosen doctor, so totally in favor of Brent Boyd, you know, it's over, it's done," Axelrod says. "What more can you possibly need?"

But four months later the retirement board sent Boyd to a psychiatrist in Long Beach, Calif., for a second opinion. Dr. Branko Radisavljevic found Boyd was "totally disabled" and, when asked on the retirement board's form if Boyd had "an illness or injury resulting from a football-related activity," Dr. Radisavljevic also checked "yes."

Case closed? Not exactly.

"I was automatic," Boyd says. "They had treating physicians. They had their own physicians. How could they not approve that?"

Despite having a second opinion that confirmed what Boyd's own doctors had been telling him for years, the retirement board demanded Boyd see yet another neurologist for further examination.

"My experience with the board was they find every possible way to delay making a decision, at least a decision favorable to the player," Axelrod says.

Frustrated, and increasingly suspicious of the retirement board's reluctance to approve his disability claim, Boyd traveled cross-country in March of 2001 to see Dr. Barry Gordon, a behavioral neurologist at Johns Hopkins University in Baltimore, for two days of neuropsychological testing.

Dr. Gordon, who has not responded to repeated requests from ESPN for an interview, wrote in his report: "the records available to me are incomplete in ways that may be relevant for my impressions."

But he still found Boyd's physical and mental health problems "could not be an organic consequence of the head injury."

"I was furious and very depressed," Boyd says, recalling his reaction to Dr. Gordon's findings. "Luckily, I don't own guns or else I may have used on one myself."

Boyd remains convinced the retirement board "doctor shopped" until it finally found a contrary medical opinion. He says much of Dr. Gordon's exam at Johns Hopkins was actually conducted by an ill-prepared graduate student.

Still, based largely on the findings of Dr. Gordon, the retirement board rejected Boyd's claim for full disability benefits in April of 2001.

"I felt I'm done because no matter what evidence I give them they're never going to approve this claim," Boyd says. "They [the retirement board] said, 'You're welcome to get another doctor's opinion.' I couldn't afford that."

"I think he got very depressed and at times felt like there was no hope and that's scary when you see a friend go through that," Axelrod says of Boyd's frustrations with the disability process.

Boyd eventually challenged the retirement board's ruling in federal court.

Despite the medical evidence from his own treating physicians and despite medical evidence from physicians approved by the retirement board itself, the court rejected Boyd's appeal, ruling that the board "did not abuse its discretion" in its handling of Boyd's disability claim.

"The man loves football, to this day, with all of his heart so this organization that he absolutely loves betrayed him," says Lowey, who has since tried to help Boyd move past the anger and bitterness he feels toward the NFLPA.

While nobody from the NFLPA would speak with ESPN about Boyd's case, NFLPA Executive Director Gene Upshaw did address Boyd's allegations at a recent news conference.

"To say that the NFLPA is 'doctor shopping,' we don't have anything to do with it, with the process," Upshaw said.

The facts say otherwise. The retirement board, the ultimate authority on disability cases, is made up of three league and three union representatives. To say the union has nothing to do with the process is simply untrue.

Upshaw went on to say, "If a doctor determines that a player is entitled to a disability and he meets the standards he gets it."

But in Boyd's case, two doctors, chosen by the retirement board, determined his disability was football-related and his claim was still rejected.

Today, Boyd spends hours going from one doctor's appointment to another, including physical therapy for the right knee he had replaced last May.

He recently remarried and gets by on his wife Gina's salary from the post office, social security and a near-minimum $1550 per month in disability payments from the NFL -- a fraction of the $8,200 per month Boyd was seeking in disability payments.

Gina Boyd sees daily the toll it takes on her husband that he can't contribute more.

"I just let him know every day that I love him … I don't want him to feel that he's any less of a man," she says.

Boyd recognizes he is not exactly a household name, that stories of other high-profile retired players suffering from post-concussion syndrome may make for more colorful headlines.

"I'm glad the stories are getting out there," Boyd says. "I didn't know Mike Webster had a problem until he was dead," he adds, referring to the former Steelers center. Webster died in 2002 after years of suffering from ailments linked to concussion-related brain damage.

"I'm just a guy nobody's heard of," Boyd says. "But most of the guys who played in the NFL are like me, guys you've never heard of, and we're hurting bad. We need help."

John Barr is a reporter and Arty Berko is a producer for ESPN's Outside the Lines.

Saturday, February 10, 2007

Coping with disability after NFL career ends: Brent Boyd

Questions with Bob Sansevere
Pioneer Press
Twin Cities.com
Posted on Sat, Feb. 10, 2007

Brent Boyd was an offensive guard with the Vikings from 1980-86. I hadn't seen Boyd or heard from him in more than 20 years. And then the other day, I got an e-mail from him. It was a powerful e-mail, one that touched and saddened me.

He started off by mentioning that ESPN is doing a segment on him Sunday morning in its "Outside the Lines" show and that "it is about my disability from NFL concussions" and the "way the NFL denied benefits." Then he said, "I have been on permanent disability for several years. Besides the physical (headaches, dizziness, knee replacement) and mental (depression, anxiety, forgetfulness) the inaction of the NFL has caused me and my son incredible financial hardships."

He also wrote, "I recently read about Andre Waters' brain damage and suicide, and Mike Webster's death and lonely last years. His son Garrett talked about how his dad wouldn't call or let old friends see him in his condition. Then it hit me. I was doing that, too. ... I'd like to let old friends in the Twin Cities know the show is going to be on before it airs. I have been ashamed to be seen, but they probably think I was NFL guy and 'big timing' them. Just the opposite. I want them to know what's happened to me and that they are in my thoughts."

I called Boyd after I received the e-mail and talked to him about what he has been going through.

BS: Is what you're dealing with getting worse each day, or each week or each month?

BB: Physically, I was able to deal with it when I was younger because you're stronger and have more energy. Is it getting worse? I don't know. It could feel like it is because I'm getting older. The fatigue is from the part of the brain that was injured. Instead of having more blood there like most people, there's less. Mentally, it's probably worse. You get used to aches and pains. When it's your mind, it's
tougher to deal with. You can't compensate for it.

BS: Are you often fatigued?

BB: All the time. I've got vertigo that doctors said is from a concussion. You know what it's like to have the flu? You're tired and dizzy and you have to lean on something. You put things off until tomorrow. But tomorrow never comes.

BS: Is it difficult to get out of bed some days?

BB: It definitely is. I spend a lot of days in bed just staring at the wall.

BS: How long has this been going on?

BB: When I was with the Vikings, I kept complaining about headaches. It started in 1980, my rookie year. I hurt my knee in 1981 and they gave me anti-inflammatory and said the headaches were from that. My first concussion was my rookie year during the preseason. I lost vision in one eye. I played about half the game and couldn't see out of one eye. A concussion back then wasn't what it is now. Unless you were strapped on a gurney, anything less than that wasn't a concussion. It was getting your bell rung.

BS: When is the last time you were able to work?

BB: I graduated from UCLA with honors. Everybody expected I'd do big things. After football, I couldn't even do menial jobs. I didn't know when I'd feel good. I tried to be in sales and couldn't do it. I haven't been able to work eight or nine years. I'm on Social Security and disability.

BS: What's a good day for you?

BB: I have a son. I was a single dad since 1992, then I remarried in 2004. We try to live normal and try to laugh as much as we can.

BS: You mentioned Andre Waters' suicide. Have you ever felt suicidal?

BB: It's something that's hard to talk about. When the NFL betrays you like that and I can't go out and get a job to improve our situation ... we've had some very tough times. Those thoughts come and go. That's why I try to laugh and keep Comedy Central on.

BS: How many concussions did you suffer during your NFL career?

BB: Who knows? I have no idea. I played seven years. That's longer than average. You get kicked in the head. A lot of times something happens. Back then, you weren't thinking in terms of concussions. You're dizzy for a while. You're young and strong and you put up with it. You don't want to go into the training room and complain about anything.

BS: Are you angry with the Vikings?

BB: My beef is not with the team. Bud Grant, Fred Zamberletti, I love those guys. My beef is with the league and the NFLPA.

BS: What do you want to tell the NFLPA and the NFL?

BB: It's too late. There's nothing I can say to the NFL or NFLPA that will make a difference. I want the current players to know what's going on. I'd tell them to get rid of (union leader) Gene Upshaw right away. The players think they're making millions and have such a great lifestyle. There's no guarantee it will always be there. If they're going to cash their paychecks, they need to honor the guys that played in the 1950s, '60s, '70s and '80s.

Wednesday, February 7, 2007

Ringing that won't stop for commish

Date posted online: Wednesday, February 07, 2007
nwi.com

By John Doherty
Times Correspondent

In one episode of "Seinfeld," the character Uncle Leo complains throughout of ringing in his ears and keeps yelling for somebody "to answer that phone." New NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell must know how he feels. Goodell's phone won't stop ringing because another ex-player is complaining of too much ringing in the ears -- and all the other symptoms of concussion.

In Miami on Friday for the commissioner's annual "state of the NFL" speech and news conference -- his first -- Goodell found himself answering questions about Ted Johnson instead of the Super Bowl. Johnson was a linebacker for the Patriots for their three Super Bowl championships. He retired just prior to the 2005 season due to post-concussion syndrome. Since then, the life of the 10-year NFL veteran has been a downward spiral and, on Friday morning, the Boston Globe told his story. Bad timing for Goodell and the NFL.

In the Globe piece, Patriot head coach Bill Belichick was remarkably obliging -- and absurd. Refusing to allow Patriots head athletic trainer Jim Whalen to respond to questions, Belichick acknowledged he had made errors in dealing with Johnson.

However, as to the allegation that he had forced Johnson to practice one day in 2002 when he was still recovering from a concussion, Belichick said, "If Ted felt so strongly that he didn't feel he was ready to practice with us, he should have told me." Nice try. Bill. Johnson already had been ruled out of the practice by Whalen.

That is why teams have a medical staff. They decide whether a player can or can not play, especially when the player's judgment may be impaired -- which is precisely the case when the brain is concussed.

Responding to a question regarding Johnson, Goodell said, "I won't accept the premise that (rushing players back from concussion is) common practice, but it does concern me." He went on to say that league research on concussions "has led to new helmet designs, it's led to rule changes, and I think a safer environment for our players."

Goodell should think again. The one study on the efficacy of the Riddell Revolution helmet was deeply flawed, was done only on high school players, and showed only marginal improvements in concussion frequency and severity. As for the rules, they are erratically enforced and have done nothing to address the new physics of the game, which have resulted in this age of bigger, faster, stronger.

On Dec. 20, in this space, I asked how many more lawsuits the NFL would face after the estate of late Steeler Mike Webster was awarded $1.5M-plus for the brain injuries he'd suffered. Since then, late Eagle Andre Waters' recent suicide has been attributed to his repeated concussions and now Johnson's telling his story.

The answer? I don't think Goodell wants to count that high because the number won't have a nice ring to it.

John Doherty is a certified athletic trainer and licensed physical therapist. This column reflects solely his opinion.

Major sports leagues' pension plans

Posted: Tuesday Feb 6, 2007 7:25 PM
SI.com

An overview of major sports leagues' pension plans:

MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL

MLB has a "defined benefit'' plan that promises a specific pension payment to each player that's determined by when and for how long an athlete played.

Current players with 10 years or more service time were to receive $180,000 per year in pension beginning at age 62. Players who didn't play 10 seasons and those who played before 1992 receive less money.

The MLB pension plan was part of the players association's first collective bargaining agreement with owners in 1968. At first, a player had to have five credited seasons of service time to become vested. That requirement was lowered to four years, and today, a player must be on a major league roster only 43 days to accrue pension benefits.

NATIONAL FOOTBALL LEAGUE

The NFL pension system, which began in 1962, pays retired players according to a formula that includes how many seasons he played and when he played them.

As of June 2006, players are to receive $250 a month for each season played before 1982, $255 a month for each season played between 1982 through 1992, $265 for 1993 and 1994, $315 for 1995 and 1996, $365 for 1997 and $470 per month for each season played between 1998 and today.

So a current player who retired after six seasons would get a monthly check for $2,820 in retirement.

Players begin receiving their pension at the age of 45 if they retired before 1993. After 1993, they can receive it at age 55.

The collective bargaining agreement says a player who "incurs a substantial injury that is a significant factor in causing his retirement from football'' is entitled to 100 percent of his monthly pension payment - and at least $1,000 per month - for 7 1/2 years. But critics have said it is difficult to qualify for disability payments.

NATIONAL BASKETBALL ASSOCIATION

The NBA pension plan was established in 1965 and is a defined benefit program.

Based on a retirement age of 62, current players would receive $12,400 annually for each year of service with a maximum amount of $124,000 (10 years of service). Players must play three seasons to become vested.

Those who played before 1965 still receive $200 per month for each season they played.

NATIONAL HOCKEY LEAGUE

Established in 1947, the NHL has a "defined contribution'' plan that establishes an individual account for each player and puts a specific amount of money into that account each year. Teams begin contributing to a player's account after his first season, but the player doesn't become vested in the plan until he has been on an NHL roster for 160 games.

A veteran who has been on an NHL roster for 160 games or more receives the maximum contribution allowed under U.S. tax law - $45,000 in 2006, according to league officials. Players who haven't been on an NHL roster for 160 games receive a smaller contribution.

The plan's normal retirement age is 45. League officials say it is impossible to say how much players will receive when they begin collecting their pensions, because it depends on variables such as the total amount contributed and the investment rate of return.

In terms of disability provisions, NHL players have guaranteed contracts. Players also have some career-ending insurance as part of their rights under the collective bargaining agreement. The players association also recommends players take out personal disability insurance.

PGA TOUR

The PGA Tour first established a retirement plan in 1983. Today, there are two separate programs that contribute money.

The first is called the "cuts'' plan, and it puts money away for a player's retirement according to the number of cuts he makes during a given season. As long as a player appears in 15 events per year, he gets a certain amount of money for each cut made. Last year, making a cut was worth $3,658 toward a player's retirement - then double that amount for each cut made beyond his 15th. Players can begin taking money out of this program at age 50 if they've stopped playing competitively, or at age 60 if they keep playing.

The second program used to be tied to where a player finishes on the money list. But starting this year, it will be tied in with the tour's new playoff-style FedEx Cup championship. The top 150 players in the FedEx Cup standings will receive contributions toward retirement, and the winner of the Cup will get $10 million in deferred compensation toward retirement.

Tour officials do not discuss how much money a specific player might accumulate under the programs. A 2001 estimate by Golfweek magazine said Tiger Woods could end up with $300 million in retirement money under the program. Ron Price, the PGA Tour's chief financial officer, says such estimates probably used "aggressive'' financial assumptions, but estimated that even a mid-level player can expect the retirement plan to provide him with 40 percent to 50 percent of what he was earning in prize money each year after he retires.

Players can begin receiving money out of the second program at age 45 if they stop playing competitively. Players also can apply for an early disbursement under a hardship provision.

ATP MEN'S TENNIS

The ATP retirement plan started in 1990 and includes about 900 participants, including current players who are contributing and retired players. Players become vested in the plan after five years.

Based on the number of tournaments played, the ATP determines each year the 125 singles players and 40 doubles players who are eligible to receive a retirement plan credit. Those players receive a contribution to their retirement account for that year - between $9,000 and $9,500 per year recently - and receive one year of credit toward the five credited years needed to become vested in the program. Three percent of the prize money at tournaments goes to fund the retirement plan.

At age 49, players can elect to postpone their benefits or begin receiving them at age 50. If benefits start at age 50, it continues for 20 years. Players can postpone benefits up to 10 years, then receive it over however many years they want. The last payment must be during the year when they turn 70. The ATP pension plan no longer has a "hardship request'' for players who become disabled through injury.

---

Source: Sports leagues, players association officials and Web sites.

Sunday, February 4, 2007

Not feeling so Super this Sunday

By Emery Filmer
Stamford (Conn.) Advocate Staff Writer

February 4, 2007

Super Bowl Sunday has always been one of the greatest sports days of the year. Some even want the Sunday, or the day after, to be a national holiday. Today, though, it feels like it should be more a day of mourning, or at least one of embarrassment for the league.

Think about all the negative NFL news we've heard in the last couple of weeks . . .

Tank Johnson. Chris Henry and Chad Johnson and most of the other Cincinnati Bengals. Andy Reid's sons. Ted Johnson and Bill Belichick. Those sore losers in San Diego. The end of the Terrell Owens-Bill Parcells saga. Gene Upshaw's heartless comments. The sad plight of the old-timers. And on and on we could go.

All of the above have taken some of the luster away from today's game between the Indianapolis Colts and Chicago Bears. None of them, however, make us squirm as much as that last one.

The lack of retirement benefits for so many older NFL greats have left many living in or near poverty. Many have physical handicaps related to their playing days and can't pay their medical bills. Some have pensions of barely more than $100 per month. The NFL Players Association, which was not around in those days, obviously couldn't care less about the men who helped build the foundation for the greatest, most popular and richest sports league of them all.

The NFLPA has thus far refused to contribute more than token pocket change to the older retired players. But don't just blame the players. The owners, who made millions off these guys while paying them peanuts, have also forgotten about them.

Both sides ought to be ashamed of themselves. It's time for them to right this wrong.

Commissioner Roger Goodall has to get NFLPA president Gene Upshaw to convince the players to contribute, say, one percent of their salaries to the pre-1990 retired players pension/disabilities pool. The average salary today is more than $2 million, so that would be $20,000 each, times 1,600 players, or $32 million. The owners could then match it (it's only $1 million per team) and you have $64 million.

Then take money collected by player fines and throw them in, too. A player fined for whatever reason would also get bumped up to two percent of his salary instead of one. The second time he's fined, it goes up to three percent, etc.

Before long, the problem will be gone. Then it would be easy figuring out which team guys like Leroy Kelly, Wilbur Marshall, Jerry Kramer, Alan Page and other old-timers would call their favorite:

Why, the Cincinnati Bengals, of course.

On to other Super subjects . . .

Racism is when you treat someone differently because of their skin color. Some people get confused and fear that if they criticize an African American they will be considered racist. Actually, that's wrong. You praise or criticize African Americans just as you'd praise or criticize whites. So, while we all should be celebrating the fact that we will finally get an African American Super Bowl-winning head coach, someone within the NFL or the media should be grilling Bengals coach Marvin Lewis about the repeated out-of-control behavior of so many members of his football team.

Fantasy football geeks beware. The final four teams in the playoffs all had two backs sharing time (Jones/Benson, Addai/Rhodes, Bush/McAllister, Dillon/Maroney). Watch for this trend to continue, which will drive any Fantasy owner who doesn't have LT crazy. Here's a suggestion Fantasy leagues should seriously consider for 2007: Ban LT from your league.

One man's greatest and worst Super Bowl moments:

Greatest: Joe Namath trotting out of the Orange Bowl with his index finger held high and pointing to the sky.

Worst: Walter Payton, who never got into the end zone that day, watching William "Fridge" Perry scoring a touchdown late in Super Bowl XX.

Here's hoping Colts wide receiver Aaron Moorhead scores a touchdown today. Then he'd be the first player in history whose father is named Emery (an NFL wideout in the late 70s/early 80s) to score a Super Bowl touchdown. Yeah, yeah, I know, he's sure to end up as not only the first, but the last.

And finally, the pick:

The Bears have one chance to win: They must throw off Peyton Manning's timing with an assortment of blitz packages. If Manning gets into a rhythm, it's over.

If the game is close by the middle of the second quarter, the Bears will win a close one. If it's a double-digit Colts lead by then, which puts the onus squarely on Rex Grossman, it'll get ugly.

My heart says the Bears.

My head says Colts 44, Bears 13.

Saturday, February 3, 2007

Pension plan a contentious issue in the NFL

by Ashley Fox
Philadelphia Inquirer
Sat, Feb. 03, 2007

MIAMI - There is no question that Troy Vincent is one of the good guys in the National Football League. He is president of the players' association, is smart, savvy, a tough defensive back and a charming, well-spoken advocate for player issues.

But when he sat next to Gene Upshaw, the executive director of the players' association, on Thursday and defended the current players' lack of sympathy for the ailing retired players, Vincent sounded cold and heartless.

One of the big issues at the Super Bowl this week has been the help - or lack thereof - afforded the men who played the game before proper safety and high salaries became the norm. There are many men who are suffering because they played professional football in an age when aspirin was used to treat concussions and helmets had about as much cushion as a piece of steel.

Some former players can barely walk. Others suffer from dementia. Some are homeless. Others can't pay their bills. Many are too proud, or too ashamed, to ask for help, and the help that is available is inadequate.

Monthly pension payments, in many instances, wouldn't cover groceries for a few days, much less medicine, doctors' bills or physical or mental therapies.

The NFL is richer, more powerful and more popular than it has ever been, and yet the forefathers of the game have been kicked outside the periphery. It is an ugly reality.

On Thursday, Vincent said he was "at the pulse" of the issue between retired and active players, and said it was "a major concern" of the union's. But he bemoaned the retired players' tactics at improving their situation. Vincent said that he hears about it from coaches on the sidelines during games or when he runs into a former player at an airport. It's always the same, Vincent said: The retired players want more money, while the active players would like a little help - advice, perspective, whatever you'd like to call it - from the men who preceded them.

"The only thing we hear about is the economics," Vincent said. "We can't please everybody."

But according to Jerry Kramer, the former Green Bay Packers offensive lineman from 1958 to 1968, not many former players are pleased at all. Herb Adderley, a member of the Pro Football Hall of Fame, receives just $126.85 per month from his NFL pension. Hall of Famer Willie Wood is in an assisted-living facility, and without the help of Mike Ditka and others, he couldn't afford the care.

Kramer started the Gridiron Greats Assistance Program to help players in need and recruited Ditka to help raise money, an effort that includes an ongoing memorabilia auction at jerrykramer.com.

"The thing that's been making my heart ache," Kramer said, "is some of my teammates and warriors are having a hard time."

Said Ditka: "The guys today who play the game are not the makers of the game. They are the keepers of the game."

The pension and disability issues facing the league are confusing and not easily solved. Upshaw said it would take $800 million annually to elevate the former players' pensions to the active players' level.

But Ditka isn't asking for that type of contribution. In fact, he sent a letter to the 32 NFL team owners, asking for a $100,000 donation from each. He said he got one check for $10,000, and one for $5,000. Ditka sent each back in disgust.

"It just doesn't make a lot of sense," Ditka said. "If we can't help them, then nobody will. ... It's embarrassing."

During his inaugural Super Bowl news conference on Friday, new NFL commissioner Roger Goodell said he was "concerned any time you see one of our former players, and the men that helped make this game great, have the medical issues that they're having."

There isn't an easy solution.

"It's not good for the NFL to see that kind of an image with our players having the medical problems they have, and I think we need to address that," Goodell said. "I think we have to do it intelligently and thoughtfully."

How to do it remains the big question. Donations? Increased pensions or disability payments? Case-by-case assistance? There must be an answer. It won't be easy, but something has to change.

Vincent is smart enough to know that.

"I've played 15 years, so I've helped build the game, too," he said. "There's not much that we can do."

NFL must up ante for its retirees

By RICHARD JUSTICE
Houston Chronicle
Feb. 3, 2007


MIAMI — It must be Super Bowl week because where else would it seem normal that a grown man shows up at a news conference in orange high heels. Love the outfit, Prince.

Hey, there's Billy Joel, decked out in jeans and a black leather jacket with a cap pulled low over his eyes. He walks with a slight limp, seems a bit out of sorts.

"It's tough being an old rocker," he says.

You're preaching to the choir, Piano Man.

Joe Namath strolls through unnoticed. And Lynn Swann and Marcus Allen, too.

Fat guys in Italian loafers line up to be photographed with a woman in an R-rated Pocahontas outfit. Did I mention the woman in the bird costume? It's getting weird out there, friends.

It's not the real world, but the Super Bowl never has been around the real world. It's where we go to forget about death and taxes and all that other stuff.

Many 'need help'

Nevertheless, the real world stuck its ugly head through the door anyway. Old guys began showing up with canes and zipper scars telling gruesome stories of broken bodies, of men unable to walk or work and existing on small pensions and poor medical coverage.

They questioned whether the NFL cared. They criticized Gene Upshaw, head of the National Football League Players Association. They said that with all the NFL's wealth, the least it could do is help take care of the men who'd help make it so popular.

"There are a lot of guys out there that are down, depressed and in need of help," Hall of Famer Jerry Kramer said. "Some of them can't get help, and many of them won't take help. But they need help."

The people who can help them don't seem inclined to. Upshaw said the union already was doing its part. NFL commissioner Roger Goodell sounded concerned but promised nothing.

"It's not good for the NFL to see that kind of image with our players having the medical problems they have," he said. "I think we're going to sit down and see how we can be creative and deal with that."

Benefits, pensions lacking

HBO's Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel this week told the story of several former players, including Conrad Dobler, a three-time Pro Bowler who played 10 seasons for the Cardinals and Bills. At 56, he's reduced to a shuffle, spent 100 days in the hospital last year and had seven operations. He told Real Sports he spends $150 a month on Vicodin.

Disability insurance is part of his NFL benefits package, but NFL doctors say he's not disabled.

"I mean, if you can stand, if you can breathe, you probably aren't going to get disability," Dobler told Real Sports. "You basically got to be strapped to a gurney with I guess your head taped to the top of it before you'll get anything with that nature."

According to HBO, dozens of former players say their benefits won't pay for knee or hip replacements or treatment for post-concussion syndrome. Their pension is worth about $1,000 a month.

Professional athletes in every sport frequently struggle with life once the cheering stops. Divorce, addiction and bankruptcy aren't uncommon. NFL players have an additional risk: worn-out bodies.

Mike Ditka, a former player and coach, mentioned former Steelers All-Pro center Mike Webster, who died homeless after years of addiction to painkillers and alcohol. His family won a $1.5 million judgment against the NFL for disability benefits and back pension.

Doug Atkins, Jim Ringo and John Mackey are among dozens of the former players who have struggled since leaving the NFL. Another player — a former Patriot — is said to be living on the street. Bill Forester, suffering from Alzheimer's disease, has no health benefits.

So on Super Bowl week, the week the NFL celebrates itself, three Hall of Famers pleaded for help. Ditka, Lem Barney and Kramer pleaded for more benefits and larger pensions.

In what seems to be a symbolic gesture, they announced an auction at jerrykramer.com for retired players in need.

Among the items for sale: Ditka's 1975 NFC Championship ring; Joe DeLamielleure's gold bracelet, a gift to Buffalo offensive linemen from O.J. Simpson; plays hand-drawn by Vince Lombardi and a football autographed by Paul Hornung, Bart Starr and Jim Taylor.

"My suspicion is we'll raise more money from donations once people hear about this than we will from the auction," Kramer said.

Ditka said he sent a letter to every NFL owner asking for $100,000 to start a trust fund for former players.

"We only got a check for $5,000 from one and $10,000 from another," he said. "We sent them back."

As for Upshaw, he counters angrily: "There are $16 million paid out each year. We just spent $51 million this year to improve the benefits for guys like me. What you don't hear about is the guys we help. There was one of them in here earlier saying we don't do anything. We just paid his mortgage for the last five months. So I know what we do. And I'm proud of what we do."

What makes the issue so silly is there's money available to help the players who legitimately need it.

"These guys played the game the way the game was supposed to be played and didn't make a lot of money," Ditka said. "And yet every time they go to ask for benefits, it's like they have to take on the creator. We want to fix that."

It's not complicated. Current players simply don't understand the problem, don't understand that it could happen to them.

Upshaw must lead, must force the issue.

Goodell must lead.

The money is there. To do anything else is unconscionable.

N.F.L. Culture Makes Issue of Head Injuries Even Murkier

By JOHN BRANCH and ALAN SCHWARZ
New York Times
February 3, 2007

MIAMI, Feb. 2 — Diagnosing a concussion is difficult. But it may be harder to determine just who is at fault for the long-term effects of concussions among N.F.L. players.

A culture of toughness permeates the locker room, encouraging players to fight through pain and stay on the field even as they feel the dizzying effects of a blow to the head. Coaches do little to combat that aura of invincibility, wanting their best players to remain on the field. And doctors and trainers, despite advances in science, still struggle to recognize the severity of the trauma and determine the proper recovery period.

It leaves a murky film over a burgeoning issue for the N.F.L., and there is no consensus on how it should be handled.

“In football, that’s the way it is,” Giants center Shaun O’Hara said. “If it’s not bleeding and it’s not completely broken, rub dirt on it and let’s go. There is that machismo in there, and also the ego from the player’s standpoint that, ‘Hey, I can play through this.’ Obviously it’s the coach’s job. He wants to win. He’s going to try to push the player and get him to play, and he wants to make sure that the injury is legitimate.”

The subject of concussions is being raised with increasing frequency around the N.F.L., particularly as their damaging effects are found in players long after retirement.

The former Patriots linebacker Ted Johnson, who retired in 2005, told The New York Times for an article published Friday that he believed concussions he sustained in the N.F.L. led to his severe depression and addiction to amphetamines. His neurologist, Dr. Robert Cantu, said that Johnson, 34, displayed early signs of Alzheimer’s disease.

Johnson is just the latest former player to wonder whether postcareer ailments are linked to the injuries and medical treatment he received in the N.F.L. In November, the former Eagles player Andre Waters committed suicide, and tests later revealed he had significant brain damage from football-related concussions.

“We have had a concussion committee that has been studying this issue from a medical standpoint, including 12 doctors — five are from the outside and seven from the N.F.L. — that have been looking at this issue and trying to see what it is we can learn about concussions that would be helpful as we go forward,” N.F.L. Commissioner Roger Goodell said during the commissioner’s annual news conference Friday, two days before the Super Bowl.

Upon the committee’s recommendation, which runs counter to most modern medical guidelines, many players who sustain a concussion in games are allowed to return to the game if they appear to have recovered.

Johnson said he returned to the practice field four days after a concussion in August 2002. Despite the recommendation from the Patriots’ trainer that Johnson be protected at practice, Coach Bill Belichick sent Johnson into a high-impact drill, Johnson said.

Johnson, feeling he was being tested and that his job was on the line (N.F.L. contracts are not guaranteed), did as he was told. He hit his head in the next drill, he said, and immediately felt woozy. He finished practice. Weeks later, having missed two preseason games and still feeling lingering effects, he approached Belichick.

“I had to see if you could play,” Belichick said, according to Johnson. Johnson was so angry that he temporarily left the team.

Belichick told The Boston Globe that he remembered the meeting. “If Ted felt so strongly that he didn’t feel he was ready to practice with us, he should have told me,” Belichick said.

He added: “I’m sure in part of that conversation I apologized for things I said or did, as he did for his actions and his emotions following his decision to leave the team. If I made a mistake or hurt Ted in any way, I don’t feel good about that.”

The Patriots’ owner, Robert Kraft, declined to answer questions about the possibility that Belichick, the winning coach in three of the past five Super Bowls, went against the advice of team medical personnel and sent a player with head trauma into high-impact drills.

During his news conference, Goodell was asked if the league would consider taking action against a coach in such a situation. He did not answer directly.

The former Giants linebacker Harry Carson, enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame last year, is one who believes the N.F.L. does not do enough.

“I think the league is in denial, and I think the league will do everything that it can to discredit anyone who associates concussions that are sustained playing on the field with what happens after the game is over,” Carson said. “They have to discredit that, otherwise they might be open to all kinds of lawsuits down the road.”

Many players, past and present, said much of the responsibility fell on the player. They often are reluctant to tell anyone when they feel the effects of a concussion, fearing that it will be construed as a sign of weakness.

Vikings center Matt Birk and Saints tight end Ernie Conwell each said that they had demanded to go back into a game after taking a blow to the head, only to have trainers hide their helmets to keep them on the sideline.

Much of the past focus on concussions has been related to quarterbacks. Troy Aikman, Steve Young and Chris Miller are among those who left the game early in part because of repeated concussions. But other position players take more routine beatings.

“You think Belichick would test his quarterback?” Giants linebacker Antonio Pierce said. “Think he would test Tom Brady or his backup? No. They would be out for weeks. You test a defensive lineman or a linebacker. You’re taught to be so tough and so physical and so mentally tough and all that, that they use that against you whenever you get hurt.”

Johnson's Troubles

Former Patriot Says Belichick Encouraged Full Contact

By ALAN GREENBERG
Hartford (Conn.) Courant Staff Writer

February 3 2007

Former Patriots linebacker Ted Johnson, who is now dealing with memory loss and depression related to repeated concussions during his 10-year NFL career, said Patriots coach Bill Belichick encouraged him to engage in full-scale practice while recovering from a concussion, against the advice of the Patriots' head trainer.

Johnson, who retired in 2005 on the eve of training camp, told The Boston Globe that he began having serious memory problems when he sustained two concussions in four days in August 2002. The first was in an exhibition against the Giants, the second after colliding with a teammate in practice.

Johnson told The Globe that trainer Jim Whalen had told him to refrain from contact at that practice, so Johnson donned a red jersey, signifying that. But later, before a 9-on-7 drill, an assistant trainer handed Johnson a blue jersey, signifying full contact.

"I looked at the trainer and said, `Who told you to give me this?'" Johnson told The Globe. "He just walked away. He didn't want to say. But I knew who it was. It was Bill [Belichick]. I was so mad, I wanted to scream. But I put the thing on anyway. I had my pride. They weren't going to beat me."

Instead, Johnson sustained another concussion. Despite his sacrifice, when the Patriots were getting ready for their season opener several weeks later, Johnson surmised that he was not going to be included on the 45-man game day roster. He left the team only to return after Belichick refused to release him.

When Johnson and Belichick sat down in September 2002 to try to repair their strained relationship, Johnson told The Globe that he told Belichick, "You played God with my health. You knew I shouldn't have been cleared to play."

Belichick told The Globe he didn't realize at the time that Johnson was hesitant about participating in the full-contact drill.

"If Ted felt so strongly that he didn't feel he was ready to practice with us, he should have told me," Belichick said.

At that September 2002 meeting, Johnson said Belichick admitted that he made a mistake by subjecting him to a full-contact drill.

"It was a real kind of admittance, but it was only him and I in the room," Johnson told The New York Times. "There's something wrong with me. There's something wrong with my brain. And I know when it started."

According to The Globe, the Patriots did not allow Whalen, who is still their head trainer, to be interviewed.

Johnson's current neurologist, Dr. Robert Cantu, said Johnson shows signs of early Alzheimer's disease and that his current problems - depression, dizziness, drowsiness, fatigue, irritability, memory loss, poor concentration, ringing in the ears and acute sensitivity to noise - are related to the numerous concussions he has had. Cantu told The Times that these are "rather classic post-concussion symptoms. ... They are most likely permanent."

Johnson told The Globe that he thought he had at least six concussions in his last three Patriots seasons but reported only one because he didn't want to underscore his reputation as an injury-prone player. He said the recent suicide of former NFL defensive back Andre Waters, who also had multiple concussions and depression, caused him to finally speak out.

"Looking back, it was stupid not to tell anyone," Johnson said. "But I didn't know then that every time you have a concussion, you are four to six times more susceptible the next time. I had no idea the damage I was causing myself."

Patriots owner Robert Kraft, in Miami for the Super Bowl, said he wasn't qualified to talk about concussions.

"Ted is one of my favorite players, someone I've had a deep relationship with," Kraft said Friday. "He's going through a difficult time. My thoughts and prayers are with him."

Speaking at his annual state of the NFL press conference Friday, new commissioner Roger Goodell said he only became aware of the situation Thursday, but that a player's health should take precedence over football.

Friday, February 2, 2007

NFL's cold-hearted stance regarding its vets is deplorable

By Bryan Burwell
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
Friday, Feb. 02 2007

MIAMI — This is the darkest side of America's greatest sports fantasy. It's Super Bowl Week in the belly of the National Football League's massive publicity machine — radio row at the Super Bowl media center — and there are countless former players slowly milling around the room from one radio interview to the next.

They used to move smoothly across the playing field. They used to run fast and jump high. Now they shuffle and limp with stiff-legged gaits.

Underneath pant legs and long sleeves are grotesque surgical scars. Their fingers are contorted like spiny tree branches; some of them amble along with canes. If you did not know any better, you would think they were disabled war veterans, not former pro football players.

Keith Sims was a three-time Pro Bowl offensive lineman who played 11 years in the NFL, mostly with the Miami Dolphins. I have not seen him in several years. The first time I met him 16 years ago, he was a healthy 24-year-old rookie. Today, he's a 40-year-old man who can't stand on his feet for longer than 20 or 30 minutes.

"I took four Advil this morning, and that ought to last me until noon," Sims told me Thursday. "I'll take four more by then and try to ice down my knees."

He pointed to the jagged scar that ran down the back of his left leg. Achilles tendon operation. He showed me his disfigured fingers that had been dislocated, jammed and surgically fused so often that he practically lost count on the wear and tear.

"But I'm one of the lucky ones," Sims said. "I own a Dunkin' Donuts franchise. I can pay my own medical. But I know a lot of older veterans who aren't as lucky as me."

This is not a part of our childhood football fantasy. We dreamed of racing into those sold-out football coliseums like glorious warriors. We did not dream of limping out of them like crippled victims or ruining our kidneys with too many pain killers.

As great and profitable as business has been for the NFL owners and the current players — salaries are higher than ever; profits are beyond mind-boggling — there doesn't seem to be any interest by the league or the players' association to put aside enough of that money to adequately assist former players whose disability coverage and pensions are woefully inadequate.

Former St. Louis football Cardinal Conrad Dobler is one of those men. Dobler retired in 1981 and has undergone 11 football-related surgeries since then. In 1994, he tried to use funds from his NFL disability insurance by applying to the NFL retirement plan. What followed was a tangled, frustrating roadblock of bureaucratic madness.

According to an interview with HBO's "Real Sports," Dobler said his doctors believed he had an "impairment of 90 percent" in his legs. But when the pension administrators sent him to see their physician, that doctor ruled that Dobler could work and nied his application.

In the "Real Sports" interview, Dobler said he ingests roughly 150 Vicodin a month to numb the pain in his knees. He also told Jon Frankel of "Real Sports" that he has considered suicide.

Frankel: "What's in store for you in the next five years, 10 years?"

Dobler: "I don't really know. I don't think it's, I don't think it's really good. But you just take it, I guess. Find some way to handle it, and if you can't handle it, then you make the choice to check out."

Frankel: "You're serious?"

Dobler: "Yeah, if you have something that's not going to get better, and you know your quality of life is going to get worse, and you're going to be a burden on people around you, they shoot horses, don't they? Didn't they make a movie about that?"

I spent the past few days in Miami talking to at least 15 or 20 former NFL players who confirmed exactly what the "Real Sports" story said: Their retirement benefits fall far short of sufficient health-care coverage of all their job-related disabilities.

Hall of Famers such as Mike Ditka and Jerry Kramer are so upset with the union that they started the Gridiron Greats Superstar Online Auction (jerrykramer.com) to raise money to assist former players in dire need. "We can't wait anymore for the NFL to help," Kramer said. "I don't know when that will happen, so we have to do something now."

The legends all blame the increasingly arrogant and brazenly insensitive executive director of the players' association, NFL Hall of Famer Gene Upshaw, for much of this mess. And you know what? I can't blame them.

There was a time long ago when Upshaw was the most powerful voice in the room. He was a reactionary, a revolutionary, a hard-charging, tough-as-nails union activist who was the ultimate anti-establishment fighter.

But now he sounds like a damned tobacco executive, full of mumbo jumbo statistics, bogus corporate misdirection and cold-blooded insensitivity. This is what he told the Charlotte Observer when questioned about the complaints of the retired players: "The bottom line is, I don't work for them. They don't hire me, and they can't fire me. They can complain about me all day long. But the active players have the vote. That's who pays my salary."

So now he says the money's not there to help the retired players. And all I keep thinking is how much he sounds like a bloated glutton who doesn't want to share even the most insignificant crumbs from his lavish buffet.

Former players blast pension plan

by Rich Hofmann
Philadelphia Daily News
Fri, Feb. 02, 2007

MIAMI - There are few things more eye-opening than shaking hands after meeting an old football player, and then watching him walk away. Time gets to everyone, not just NFL players, and that is all true enough. But their hands, especially the linemen's hands, are these enormous masses of flesh with fingers pointing every which way. And their knees and hips and ankles and feet, they just don't work as well as when their picture is frozen in your mind's eye.

A group of them held a press conference yesterday - Jerry Kramer and Mike Ditka and Lem Barney and Joe DeLamielleure. Amazingly, the NFL gave them a room in which to hold the conference in the Super Bowl media center.

Amazingly, because these former stars of the game came to bury former commissioner Paul Tagliabue and, especially, NFL Players Association executive director Gene Upshaw. Some of them tried to talk nice, but DeLamielleure, for one, could not.

"I played next to a guy who's in a homeless shelter," he said. "Our pensions suck, plain and simple. I think Gene Upshaw and Tagliabue are responsible for this. They've been in power for 20 years and did nothing about it."

It is the side of the NFL that nobody likes to talk about but which everyone who has ever played knows is the reality.

The physical brutality takes an awful toll and they all know it. They ignore it during their careers because they love the money and the fame and the competition. But when it is over, they reach the age of 45 and worry about seeing their grandchildren.

It has hit home for anybody who has followed the Eagles, with the deaths in the last couple of years of Reggie White and Andre Waters. White died from being too big, plain and simple. Waters, according to a doctor in Pittsburgh who examined his brain tissue, died from getting hit on the head so much when he played, his brain was like that of an 85-year-old.

The science isn't there yet, and that is all true enough. We do not know anything with medical, scientific certainty. But all of these players make a bargain, a real-life deal with the devil, when they sign an NFL contract and button their chin strap. The trade is simple: now for later. They know it and they do it anyway, and they live with it.

Today's players will end up with a decent pension and with so much earnings in their career that only a lunkhead will be able to mess it up. The old guys, though, they get hammered both ways: They didn't have the earnings when they played and their pension is a pittance.

After a recent raise, DeLamielleure says he is getting $1,212 a month. (Admittedly, he started taking his pension at age 45.) Other players, though, have much lower benefits.

"It's a tragedy when we see what's going on with our comrades," Barney said.

"I'm not trying to bust anybody's back or embarrass anybody," said Ditka, who went on to reference the story of the late Mike Webster, the Steelers' great center who suffered from dementia and was homeless for a period of time.

"I can't tell you if Mike Webster would have been alive today or not," Ditka said. "But I know he wouldn't have been a damn street person."

Ditka has raised hundreds of thousands of dollars over the years for indigent former NFL players. An auction of memorabilia and solicitation of donations at JerryKramer.com will hopefully raise $500,000 for the cause, Kramer said.

But where is the union?

Where are the current players?

Upshaw sighs when he hears the questions. So does union president Troy Vincent, who says that he has even been asked about it by a former player/current coach: "Hey Troy, when are you going to increase the benefit?"

Upshaw detailed the current efforts being undertaken for struggling old-timers and says that it would take an annual contribution from current player contracts of a staggering $800 million to bring the old-timers' pensions to parity with current players. But that isn't what they want. They just want some more. They just want some dignity. They just want a financial recognition of one simple fact.

As Ditka said of the current players, "They are not the makers of the game. They are the keepers of the game, period."

As DeLamielleure said, "This is for the guys who built this league on their back, on their knees."

It is for the men, older now, who played when the game offered only minor fame and even less fortune, who drove beer trucks in the offseason and who were told they had headaches, not concussions.

Big hands, crooked fingers, tired gaits; they loved those days and they deserve to enjoy these. Amid all of the Roman-numeraled opulence, there has to be more.

Ex-NFL stars conduct auction for charity

By Greg Johnson
Los Angeles Times Staff Writer

February 1, 2007

Mike Ditka is donating a 1975 NFC championship ring that he earned while playing for the Dallas Cowboys. Joe DeLamielleure is contributing an inscribed bracelet that O.J. Simpson presented to him and other members of the Buffalo Bills fabled "Electric Company." Merlin Olsen is volunteering to serve as a fishing guide during a two-day trip into the Hells Canyon region on the border between Idaho and Oregon.

The auction items being offered by the three Pro Football Hall of Fame members are among dozens of NFL-related merchandise and services to be put on the block starting today by the Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund. Ditka, DeLamielleure, Willie Davis, Gale Sayers and Harry Carson will serve as board members for the non-profit organization created recently to assist professional football players who have fallen upon hard times.

"I think the Super Bowl is a perfect time to do this," said former Green Bay Packers star Jerry Kramer, who jump-started the fund-raising effort that fans and collectors can access at jerrykramer.com.

Former NFL players are raiding their treasure troves and using their big league connections to solicit one-of-a-kind donations for the auction that will run through Feb. 13 and hope to raise $500,000. Auction items include Lem Barney's 1967 Pro Bowl helmet, a football with Dwight Clark's autograph and a diagram of his famous "Catch" play in the 1982 NFC championship game. Vince Lombardi's son has donated a hand-drawn play from the Packers' celebrated coach who won the first Super Bowl. And John McEnroe has offered up a day's worth of tennis.

Auction organizers will hold a news conference to announce the auction today at the Super Bowl XLI media center in Miami.

The relief effort is being driven by mounting frustration among many NFL veterans who've watched former teammates and opponents lose their health, homes and dignity, Kramer said.

"There are lots of guys in dire need," Ditka said. "Guys like [Hall of Famer members] John Mackey, Doug Atkins, Joe Perry and Pete Pihos. A lot of guys have Alzheimer's. Doug Atkins rarely comes out of his house, and Willie Wood needed financial help to move into an assisted-living facility.

"These guys were the foundation of the NFL. The league and players are making millions of dollars and all we're saying is that some of the guys who started it have health problems, mental problems. We should be helping them out."

Kramer said the auction will need to be repeated because so many former players need financial and medical assistance.

"I'm looking at this as a five-year project," Kramer said. "I'm hoping it will create an outcry among people who want to donate, and that other players will get involved."

Organizers are hoping that the Super Bowl will drive interest in the auction. But the New York auction house that has volunteered its services believes that the one-of-a-kind nature of auction items will drive up prices.

"Each item will come with a letter that attests to its authenticity," said Jared Weiss, president of Steiner Sports. "Nothing matches Mike Ditka saying 'It's my ring.' "

Auctioneers have high hopes for many items on the block, including DeLamielleure's gold bracelet, one of several that Simpson presented to his offensive linemen after becoming the first NFL running back to rush for more than 2,000 yards in a season.

Ditka joins fight for older players

Former Bears coach criticizes NFL for failing to improve medical benefits
Don Pierson: On Pro Football
Chicago Tribune
February 2, 2007

MIAMI -- Mike Ditka is angry.

You could tell when he started by saying, "We're not trying to bust anybody's back or embarrass anybody."

Then he did his darnedest to embarrass the NFL for neglecting older players in need.

He got help. Fellow Hall of Famer Joe DeLamielleure blamed former Commissioner Paul Tagliabue and NFL Players Association director Gene Upshaw.

"They were in power for 20 years and haven't done anything," DeLamielleure said at a news conference Thursday. "I'm passionate about this because I played next to a guy (former Bills tackle Donnie Green) for seven years who is in a homeless shelter."

Later, Upshaw said it was irresponsible for anyone to say the union doesn't try to help retirees. Upshaw, a Hall of Fame player himself, was sympathetic but clearly not embarrassed.

Former Green Bay guard Jerry Kramer announced an auction that will last for the next 11 days on JerryKramer.com. Kramer is donating a Super Bowl ring. So is Ditka, although one from the Dallas Cowboys, not the 1985 Bears.

"We hope to raise a half-million dollars or so and hope to do it in the next five years," Kramer said. "I didn't realize how widespread the problem was."

Hall of Fame cornerback Lem Barney said football's pension is "the worst pension of all" the major sports.

Ditka named Hall of Fame players John Mackey, Joe Perry, Doug Atkins, Jim Ringo, Pete Pihos and Willie Wood as needing help.

"Perception is everybody who played the game does well afterward," Ditka said. "I've been fortunate. I've been blessed, and I understand that and so do a lot of us. But the ones who haven't, they're not even asking. We're asking for them."

Ditka said his annual golf tournament splits proceeds between Chicago's Misericordia home and needy former NFL players.

"We don't make them jump through hoops," Ditka said. "We just give it to them."

Ditka said he had dinner during Super Bowl week with an owner in another sport he wouldn't identify.

"He offered to contribute $100,000," Ditka said.

The offer hit home because Ditka said he wrote letters to all NFL owners a year ago asking for $100,000 apiece to create a trust fund of $3.2 million to help players in dire need.

"I don't know if the letter ever got in their hands," he said. "I got a check from one owner for $5,000 and another for $10,000, and I had our people send it back.

"I'm not trying to embarrass anybody. It's 2007. It's time to right a wrong. This has existed for a long time. [They] talk about going back and picking up the pre-1959s [players]. It's a joke. The benefit program for them was terrible."

The players union has a pension program for players from pre-union days, but DeLamielleure said he would like to see all former players receive the same pension that current players do, which he said is $475 a month for every year of service.

"That's not asking too much," said DeLamielleure, who retired in 1985 with 13 years' service. "I took my pension at 45. My pension is $1,200-something a month. I hope gas and electricity don't go up over the next 10 years."

Upshaw said it is financially impossible to bring all retirees to the current level.

"That's never going to happen," said Upshaw, who estimated the cost of such a suggestion at $800 million.

Although the current pension is more than other industries pay, Ditka and DeLamielleure are more concerned about the suffering they see and the price players paid to build pro football into a $6 billion-a-year business.

"It's not right. And it has to stop," Ditka said. "It's not like there's not enough money to go around, because there is enough money to go around. These guys who play the game [now], not taking anything away from them, they are not the makers of the game; they are the keepers of the game. Period."

Ditka cited Mackey, a former tight end and ex-president of the NFLPA who needs 24-hour care because of dementia.

DeLamielleure said: "For guys who made this league and built it on their backs, their knees, their legs and now they're all broken down and they can't even get a decent pension, it's wrong.

"I met Lou Groza when I got traded to Cleveland. His pension was $500 a month. After 22 years."

The late Groza's Hall of Fame career spanned 1946-67.

Upshaw said the union paid $1.2 million last year outside of regular benefits to 147 players with special needs. He said some players choose to take pension money early and called it unrealistic for any player to expect a pension "to take care of him for the rest of his life after he played five years and was done at age 30."

Ditka distributed a 2001 letter from Raiders owner Al Davis to Tagliabue proposing satellite Hall of Fame sites to generate more money. Davis also suggested a permanent fund of $10 million.

Upshaw said the union is concerned about all retirees, not only Hall of Famers, and said disability issues are being discussed.

"I agree with Ditka when he says there's a lot of red tape," Upshaw said.

Troy Vincent, president of the NFLPA and current safety for the Washington Redskins, acknowledged that concern for retired players consumes much of his time, even while on the job. He said he was in a pileup on a sideline of a game and heard an assistant coach from another team yell at him, "Hey, Troy, when are you going to increase the benefits?"

Kramer's "Legends of the Game" news conference and Upshaw's news conference were held at the same podium within hours of each other. Both were inside the NFL media center, as if the league has become so big it doesn't mind airing its own dirty laundry as just another part of an industry grown too large for embarrassment.

Their penchant is to forget those on pension

By Ron Borges, Boston Globe Staff | February 2, 2007

MIAMI -- Everybody at the NFL Players Association is very concerned. They told us so yesterday when the subject of aging and down-on-their-luck former players with minimal pension benefits and poor disability coverage was raised at a union press conference. It came five hours after a small group of former players ripped the union and the league for doing too little, too late to aid players such as Herb Adderley, a Hall of Fame cornerback for Vince Lombardi's Green Bay Packers who receives $126.85 a month in pension benefits from the NFL.

NFLPA executive director Gene Upshaw said so. So did union president Troy Vincent, who insisted he thinks about the plight of such players every day. Both were asked what they have donated to an online auction run by two of their loudest critics, Hall of Fame player and coach Mike Ditka and former Packer Jerry Kramer, to raise $500,000 to fund a new foundation to help players such as Adderley. The answer was nothing.

"I'll give them anything they need," Upshaw claimed after saying he hadn't given anything for an auction that began at 11 a.m. yesterday and will run through Feb. 13. "I didn't know about it. I'm doing what I can for our fund, PAT. That's the one I administer."

That's also the fund that gave $1.2 million last year to 147 players in need, according to Upshaw. That averages to $8,163 to each recipient, from a union whose active players are paid just under 60 percent of the total gross revenues of the National Football League. That figure is into the billions and includes television revenues.

"I really don't think he's given us anything," said 61-year-old Hall of Fame cornerback Lem Barney of Upshaw's contributions. The soft-spoken Barney has been a minister for nearly 30 years in and around Detroit, where he starred for the Lions. "As we find out each year, Gene is only for the active players. He boasts and brags about that when we talk about it."

Barney has donated his first Pro Bowl jersey, the one he wore in 1967 after being named Defensive Rookie of the Year. It is something he has always held dear, so much so that "I didn't give it to Lem Barney III, my son. But I'd give it to these guys. The need is great. Their need and our need for compassion."

Hall of Fame guard Joe DeLamielleure, who was once down and out but somehow raised nine kids as he struggled to get back on his feet, has donated a solid gold bracelet with a gold football bearing his No. 68, which was given to every member of the Buffalo Bills offensive line by O.J. Simpson after he became the first NFL back to rush for 2,000 yards in a season.

"There are only six or seven of them in the world," Kramer said. "It's one of the most precious items he had but he wanted to donate it to the guys."

Those guys are mostly players from pro football's early days, although there are many more recent players in need, including one former Patriot who presently is in a homeless shelter. They are proud men reluctant to ask for help, even as their health and living conditions have slipped with the passage of time and growing disabilities.

Kramer's foundation, Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund, will see that the money from the auction is distributed to needy players "without a lot of red tape." Ditka had already formed his own foundation for the same purpose and has helped fund Hall of Fame safety Willie Wood's living arrangement at an assisted care facility after learning Wood could not afford it.

The stories go on and on but the money does not. While today's players receive the highest salaries in NFL history, many of the men who built the foundation of today's game live in poverty. There is no simple solution. But DeLamielleure believes he knows the root of the problem.

"I played next to a guy for seven years who's living in a homeless shelter," DeLamielleure said. "Our pension sucks, plain and simple. I think Gene Upshaw and [former NFL commissioner] Paul Tagliabue are responsible. They've been in charge for 20 years."

Asked about such criticism, Vincent seemed more irked than interested.

"Not one day goes by in our building that we don't discuss the state of our retired players," Vincent claimed, "but all we hear are a lot of gripes about what we're not doing. In some cases, what they want is just not affordable. All I hear is, 'Hey, Troy, when are you going to increase the benefits?' At some point, you've heard enough."

Kramer's effort to help former players began 25 years ago, when he lost his Super Bowl I championship ring on a flight. He did not see the ring until 1993, when someone told him it was being auctioned on a website. Kramer contacted the company, Mastro Auctions, and it returned the ring and later agreed to auction off a replica that had been made for him. It raised $21,000 and Kramer donated the money to a fund for former NFL players in trouble.

From that start came the idea for the Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund and the auction, which can be accessed by going to JerryKramer.com. Ditka's fund was then five years old and he told of writing the 32 NFL owners and asking each for a donation of $100,000. According to Ditka, he got three responses, a check for $10,000 and two for $5,000.

"I told my people to send 'em back," he said. "The response was not good. It's a shabby way to treat people. I went back to the Hall of Fame two years ago and when I heard the poppycock from Upshaw, it was a joke. It's hypocrisy to listen to what he says. To what the commissioner says.

"We're not trying to bust anyone's back or insult anybody, but I had dinner last night with a guy who owns a franchise in another sport. I told him some of the stories and he offered $100,000. An owner in another sport. What Joe said about this is honest. These guys today who play the game of football are not the makers of the game. They're the keepers of the game. They're playing on the shoulders of others who didn't make anything, but they loved the game."

What Ditka, Barney, Kramer, and others seek is not a handout. They want financial help from the richest league and one of the richest unions in the world.

"The money is there to help," Ditka said. "We could eliminate this problem for guys like Pete Pihos, Doug Atkins, Joe Perry, Willie Wood. Why do it? Because they need it. Don't make them go through a bunch of hogwash."

Five hours later, in the same room where Ditka and his allies had stood, Upshaw and Vincent insisted the cost would be $800 million to lift the pension of elderly players to the level of today's players. That may be true, but that's now what they're asking for.

They're asking for a little dignity and a little help from a business many of them sacrificed their bodies to build. If Troy Vincent wants Willie Wood to help him work on his backpedal as a consequence, he'd probably be happy to do it. Except that he can't backpedal anymore. Or pay his bills.

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