John Mackey: From The NFL To Dementia

CBS News
April 28, 2007

BALTIMORE, April 28, 2007(CBS)

Football Hall of Famer John Mackey once helped win free agency for his fellow players, but now, as CBS News correspondent Thalia Assuras reports, he's helping to win another battle for players who have long since retired.

Mackey's record-breaking 75-yard touchdown reception carried the Baltimore Colts to a 16-13 Super Bowl win over Dallas in 1971, and it helped propel one of the league's greatest tight ends into the Hall of Fame.

"Mackey was the smartest man in the room," former quarterback Jack Kemp said at his induction ceremony.

But these days, John Mackey is a shadow of the man who had such an impact on football during his ten year career - a career in which he was tackled hundreds of times and sustained a concussion.

Today he still wears his black cowboy hat - once his trademark - atop his six-foot three inch athlete's body, but his mind is no longer as fit.

At age 65, Mackey has dementia.

He showed us his championship rings several times, unaware that he was repeating himself.

We asked his wife, Sylvia, if he can take care of himself.

"It's possible that he could," she said, "but I wouldn't chance it anymore."

Sylvia Mackey doesn't blame head trauma for her husband's condition, and scientists have not established a direct connection. However, a University of North Carolina study into 2,500 former NFL players showed they faced a 37 percent higher risk of Alzheimer's disease than other men their age.

Former players do not qualify for disability from the NFL because they can't prove their injuries are caused by playing football.

Old-timers like Mackey didn't make anywhere near the multimillion dollar salaries of today, so families are struggling to pay for care. Last May, in a letter to then-NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue, Sylvia pleaded for a financial assistance for former players like her husband.

"We recognize that there are a number of players, and a growing number of players, recognized to be struggling," Harold Henderson, the Executive Vice President of the NFL said.

The league and the NFL Players' Association have responded with the "88 plan" - named after Mackey's number. It provides $88,000-a-year for nursing home care and up to $50,000 annually for adult day care.

Still, there's the nagging question of whether football-induced concussions can lead to illnesses like Alzheimer's and how the league should protect its athletes.

"We have certainly stepped up the research on protective equipment," Henderson said. "We are looking at new rules and procedures to determine if we need a different handling of players who suffer concussions in terms of when they might return to the field."

Sylvia Mackey says she's just grateful for what she has.

"It's disappointing but you can't cry over spilled milk," she said. "You can't go back and wish that something is that can't be, so you have to look at how to make the best of the future."

For Mackey the future is again being part of the fight for his old football colleagues.

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NFL's forgotten generation is hurting

Ron Snyder
The (Baltimore) Examiner
Apr 24, 2007

BALTIMORE - Sisto Averno has suffered a stroke, had his knee and a hip replaced, and requires the use of a walker to get around. But inside the body of the 81-year-old Pikesville resident beats the heart of an ironman football star that played offensive guard, linebacker and special teams during an NFL career that spanned from 1950 to ’54, including time with the Baltimore Colts.

Averno never regrets playing with such reckless abandon during his career. But he is quite aware that his approach played a large role in the bevy of health issues he deals with today.

All of those medical expenses take their toll on the limited income that he and his wife, Margaret, have for bills. Averno said he gets by, but a little extra assistance from the league that eventually made billions, in part, from the work players like him put in during its formative years would help make his life a little easier.

“The owners and players make so much money today,” Averno said. “I don’t know why they don’t want to do more to help the guys that started this league.”

While the NFL Players Association has taken steps in recent years to improve benefits for retirees, a number of local retired players believe more can be done. Former Baltimore Colts Bruce Laird and Tom Matte have taken up the cause and have been some of the most outspoken critics of NFLPA executive director Gene Upshaw for what they feel is a stiff-arm to those who need help the most.

“First of all, we are very grateful for everything given to us by the NFLPA, especially since 1993,” Laird said. “But while there are thousands of retirees that have done well for themselves, there are others that need our help and deserve to have some dignity back in their lives.”

NFLPA director of communications Carl Francis said a combative approach to dealing with retiree issues from players like Laird is counterproductive and will only hurt those needy players in the long-term.

“If there is a lack of communication and public voices of displeasure with the main office, that causes a lack of building support for players across the country and does nothing to solve the problem,” Francis said.

Laird, who is also president of the Baltimore Colts alumni group, said he recently received a memo from the NFLPA that threatened to remove an alumni chapter president and/or dissolve the chapter entirely for conduct deemed detrimental to the players association’s best interests. Laird thinks this was a response to the growing number of outspoken retirees like himself who want to see more action taken by the union on this issue.

“The player’s association is concerned about retirees speaking out on their own behalf,” Laird said.

While Ravens kicker and team player representative Matt Stover recently met with Laird to improve relations between the two parties, Matte said there is still a lot of progress that needs to take place.

“Matt Stover is a great friend who wants to help us move in a positive direction on this issue,” Matte said. “But I still don’t understand why we can’t get a meeting directly with the commissioner or with Gene Upshaw. We know we have to take care of ourselves because of the attitude we’ve seen from Gene Upshaw.”

NFL improved benefits

Last July, the NFL and the NFLPA agreed to a series of improvements to benefits for current and retired players. They include:

» Pensions: Increasing the pensions of retired players by 25 percent for amounts earned before 1982 and a 10 percent increase for amounts earned afterward. That will mean at least a $50/month increase.

» No. 88 plan: This benefit, named in honor of Colts Hall of Famer John Mackey, provides up to $88,000 per year for institutional care or up to $50,000 annually for in-home nursing care for treatment pertaining to dementia, including Alzheimer’s.

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The Perfect Storm

By Josh Peter, Yahoo! Sports
April 21, 2007

MARINA DEL REY, Calif. - Leigh Steinberg stood in front of the country's leading experts on concussions and told a story that drove home a point the way no research could.

It was January 1994, and Troy Aikman had suffered a concussion during the NFC championship game. While the rest of the Dallas Cowboys were celebrating their victory over the San Francisco 49ers, Aikman was undergoing tests to determine the severity of the head injury he'd suffered while being sacked during the game. Steinberg, the well-known agent who represented Aikman, drove to the hospital to visit his marquee client. Thus began their exchange.

Aikman: "Did we play a football game today?''

Steinberg: "Yes.''

Aikman: "How did we do?''

Steinberg: "You did well.''

Aikman: "What does that mean?''

Steinberg: "You're going to the Super Bowl.''

Five minutes later, Aikman had a few more questions.

"Did we play a football game today?''

"How did we do?''

"What does that mean?''

Five minutes later, Aikman repeated the same questions yet again. It was clear the concussion, which published reports described as "mild," had at least temporarily robbed Aikman of his memory. The moment shook Steinberg. It also spurred him to act. A crusade began.

What Al Gore is to global warming, Steinberg is to football-related concussions. He organized a conference more than a decade ago to discuss the issue, Steinberg recalled, and one NFL medical official dismissed it as "fear mongering.'' Of course that's the same thing critics have said of Gore.

Last week, Steinberg served as the keynote speaker at the first National Concussion Summit, which drew the leading experts in the field. As speaker after speaker presented evidence of the frightening, long-term effects of concussions, it became clear that the NFL no longer can ignore An Inconvenient Truth: The same violence that helped turn the league into a multibillion-dollar business has debilitated players and, in some cases, perhaps led to suicide and premature death.

In January, two months after former NFL defensive back Andre Waters committed suicide, a forensic pathologist who studied Waters' brain concluded that brain damage caused on the football field led to the suicide.

In February, former NFL linebacker Ted Johnson cited multiple concussions as the reason he regularly forgets people's names, misses appointments and suffers from depression and an addiction to amphetamines. Johnson, who helped lead the New England Patriots to three Super Bowls, said he decided to go public after reading the
reports about Waters.

Later that month, Dr. Elliot Pellman resigned as chairman of the NFL's research committee on concussions after published reports revealed Pellman had no expertise in neurology and his credentials came under scrutiny. Now, the issue of concussions and how seriously the NFL is taking them has come under scrutiny. Perhaps owners and other league officials will begin to feel the guilt Steinberg once did.

By negotiating multimillion-dollar contracts, Steinberg enriched himself and helped secure his clients' financial future. But when he visited Aikman in the hospital, he realized Aikman and the others were putting their long-term health at serious risk as they suffered a series of brain-scrambling concussions.

"Unconscionable'' is how Steinberg described the notion of neglecting the issue of concussions. So he became the gadfly, the hornet buzzing the NFL's ear, the siren call for rules and regulations that would help reduce the number of concussions in the NFL. Critics called him an alarmist. But Steinberg earned widespread respect from the medical community, not only for his efforts but also for his understanding of
the concussions and one of the greatest dangers - secondary concussion trauma.

Research shows those still recovering from a concussion are more likely to suffer a second concussion, and this becomes especially dangerous in football, where the culture promotes playing through pain and returning to the field as soon as possible rather than as soon as advisable. That, Steinberg pointed out, is what led to Steve Young's retirement in 2000. One week after suffering a concussion, Young returned to action. He left the field after suffering another concussion, and weeks later he continued to suffer from dizziness and other symptoms related to the head injury. His career was over.

"The perfect storm'' is what Steinberg calls the period during which one is highly susceptible to a second and more damaging concussion. But for those trying to bring attention to the dangers of concussions, "the perfect storm'' is also an apt description of this moment in time.

Waters, 44, retired from the NFL in 1993. Since then, the players have gotten bigger, stronger and faster, and the on-field collisions have gotten even more vicious. Based on Waters' case, the worst is yet to come.

Between the time Waters retired and the time he committed suicide - succumbing to depression and the early stages of Alzheimer's disease that a forensic scientist attributed to concussions - almost 15 years passed. So, as the human missiles who take the field now and collide with unprecedented force, one might not see the extent of the damage for another 15 years.

"It's a ticking time bomb,'' Steinberg said.

The problem goes beyond the NFL. Research shows there are more concussions in cycling and motor sports than in football. And concussions are as common as ring girls in the world of boxing and ultimate fighting. But by virtue of football being the nation's most popular sport, the NFL must take the lead.

Instead of pointing fingers, however, the experts who gathered here last week presented findings. There was data and video and photographs, a dizzying array of evidence that the experts said confirmed the frightening consequences of concussions.

Then there were the photographs of Andre Waters' brain, the four pieces examined by Bennet Omalu, the forensic pathologist from the University of Pittsburgh who determined that concussion-related trauma led Waters to commit suicide. Omalu also examined the brains of Mike Webster and Terry Long, the two former Pittsburgh Steelers who were discovered to have suffered brain trauma. Long killed himself in 2005, and Webster died of heart failure in 2002, and Omalu came armed with the autopsy photos.

But during the conference, the most disturbing thing was this: The NFL Players Association, the organization charged with protecting the players' interests, sent no representative. The NFL did little better.

The Sports Concussion Institute, which is based in Marina Del Rey and sponsored the event, sent an invitation to the owners and head trainers of each of the NFL's 32 teams. None attended.

But Mark Lovell, the team doctor for the Pittsburgh Steelers and a member of the league's research committee for concussions, did attend. He said he recently met with NFL commissioner Roger Goodell and predicted that Goodell will be "proactive'' when it comes to addressing the issue of concussions.

Those urging him to address the issue go beyond Steinberg and the medical community. Also in attendance at the summit was Warren Moon, the Hall of Fame quarterback who's working with the Sports Concussion Institute. Moon said he's hopeful and recalled a game a couple of years ago involving the Seattle Seahawks. Shaun Alexander, the team's starting running back, left the game after suffering a blow to the helmet. Later, Alexander ran up and down the sideline as if demonstrating he was prepared to return to the field.

But he never got back in the game, Moon said, apparently because the team's medical staff deemed it too risky.

"I think it's definitely getting better, but I think there's a lot more that needs to be done,'' he said.

As far as Steinberg is concerned, the NFL should do the following:

# Require teams to test the neurocognitive state of each player, which would allow physicians to see how levels changed after head-related injuries.

# Leave medical experts in charge of determining whether players should return to the field rather than allowing players who feel obligated to play through the pain to return.

# Require neurological experts to be on the field to evaluate players after head-related injuries.

# Educate players and other officials on the dangers of concussions, thereby forcing all stakeholders to take the issue more seriously.

Yet despite all the evidence pointing to concussions as a serious issue, skeptics might return to the story Steinberg told about Aikman. A week after suffering a concussion that temporarily robbed him of his memory and blurred his vision, Aikman completed 19 of 27 passes for 207 yards and the Cowboys beat the Buffalo Bills in Super Bowl XXVIII.

In 2001, Aikman retired after suffering the ninth concussion of his career. Today, neither he nor Steve Young - who suffered seven concussions in the NFL - show any outward signs of concussion-related damage. Both serve as TV commentators during the NFL season, and they come across as articulate and alert. Confronting Steinberg with this creates a delicate moment.

"Maybe they just started with more brain cells than the rest of us," he offered, smiling.

But as the smile receded, one could sense what Steinberg was thinking. Evidence suggests the effects of brain-related injuries can worsen over time. So for Aikman, Young and hundreds of other NFL players, the worst may be yet to come.

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Agent: Concussions "ticking time bomb"

Associated Press
Sunday, April 22, 2007

MARINA DEL REY, Calif. - An estimated 350,000 athletes endure head injuries while playing sports every year in the United States, and that's only counting the ones who lose consciousness after impact.

Including the rest of the dings, pings and "rung bells" that don't knock people out but still result in concussions, the total could be adjusted as high as 3.8 million.

"A gross underestimation," is what concussion expert Gerry Gioia of the National Children's Medical Center in Washington called the 350,000 figure. "We don't know the true denomination of this problem."

That's what makes sports concussions, in the words of agent Leigh Steinberg, "a health epidemic, the consequences of which are a ticking time bomb that may not be seen in their totality for 10, 15 or 20 years."

Steinberg and NFL Hall of Fame quarterback Warren Moon, who suffered the first of his half-dozen concussions at age 11, headlined a summit Friday designed to draw attention to the growing problem of concussions in sports.

It's a problem most widely recognized in the NFL, where the suicide of former defensive back Andre Waters and the story of former Patriots linebacker Ted Johnson's hurried return to the field made recent headlines.

Waters' niece, Kwanna Pittman, said the symposium was meaningful "because, no, it didn't help Andre, but it can help someone else."

Indeed, it's an issue that goes well beyond the NFL - to every sport, at almost every level.

Among the presenters Friday was Deborah Goldberger, whose 17-year-old daughter, Stephanie, has had four concussions as a soccer goalie. The last one forced her to give up the game. Seven months later, she's still tired, has headaches and has to go to sleep most nights at 8:30 p.m.

"It impacts everything you do on a daily basis," Goldberger said.

For every concussion identified in the NFL, Gioia said, another 56,500 occur among kids. Some are so hard to recognize - such as the basketball player who falls and bumps his head on a teammate's knee but gets right back up - that it's difficult to know when they happen and what to do.

"We've got to manage it better and educate people about it better," Gioia said, "so we don't end up with pro athletes saying, 'After my 15th, I stopped counting.'"

Determining and differentiating the immediate and long-term effects of concussions is a constantly shifting science.

Steinberg touted numbers from a series of recent studies, hoping the seriousness of the new stats will intensify the debate and bring quicker change.

"What are the stakes?" Steinberg said. "It's one thing to go out and play football and understand that when you turn 40, you can bend over to pick up your child and have aches and pains. It's another thing to bend down and not be able to identify that child."

One study showed athletes are six times more likely to suffer a second concussion if they return within a week of the first one. A client of Steinberg's, former 49ers quarterback Steve Young, retired after precisely that kind of quick return and repeat injury.

Other studies showed that in cases where athletes had three or more concussions over their lifetimes, they were five times more at risk for early onset Alzheimer's disease, three times more at risk of significant memory loss and four times more likely to have severely elevated depression.

The NFL and the NFL Players Association have done some things to lessen the impact of head injuries - most notably with rules changes and the gradual elimination of Astroturf as a playing surface. They're looking at changes in helmets and mouthpieces to lessen the severity of hits to the head.

Steinberg some day also would like to see neurologists present on every NFL sideline and more effective use of baseline tests that establish players' capabilities before they get injured and can be used as markers for the tests they take after concussions.

Not as easily changed is the football-player mentality. From a young age, they're taught to play in pain, to sacrifice their bodies, to stay on the field and to make their coaches happy.

"Most athletes are in a state of denial," Steinberg said. "They're taught to ignore pain."

He hopes some of the most recent studies will lead NFL management to conclude rushing players back isn't in anyone's best interest. After all, is getting a player back for one week worth risking him for the rest of the season - or his career? It's a question that has gained more traction as salaries and signing bonuses have exploded over the past decade.

Almost as difficult as changing the mind-set is determining what is or isn't a concussion, which translates into the kind of medical attention paid to an injured player.

To illustrate this challenge, one doctor showed two plays from a recent Oregon-Arizona college football game. One showed a player's helmet getting popped off after a particularly vicious hit made under his chin. Another showed one player knocking his teammate to the ground in a congratulatory body bump after a good defensive play.

The player in the first example walked away with a cut lip. The player in the second example had a concussion because his head banged against the turf as he received the congrats.

"It goes to show that we can be fooled by what we see," said Kevin Guskiewicz, a specialist from the University of North Carolina who studies the biomechanics of sports concussions.

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NFL showing cold heart as retirees issue heats up

by John Eisenberg
Baltimore Sun

April 21, 2007

The NFL wants you to pay attention to a lot of things - its regular season and playoffs, the free agency soap opera and every aspect of the draft, to name a few.

But there are also things the league would prefer you not pay attention to, and high on that list right now is a swelling chorus of dismay being voiced by some retired players.

They're unhappy with many aspects of their treatment by both the league and the NFL Players Association, citing such issues as a relatively poor pension plan and inadequate health care for needy retired players whose ailments trace to their playing days.

I became aware of their anger earlier this year when I spent several months working on a book involving NFL players from the 1950s. As I went around the country speaking to them - members of the league's greatest generation, including some Hall of Famers - I was struck by the sameness of the experience.

After knocking on a front door, I inevitably watched a bent, limping figure approach from the inside and swing the door open. Then, just as inevitably, the conversation turned to the plight of some of their worst-off comrades and the indifference they perceived from the league and union.

Taking on the NFL, which generates more than $6 billion a year in revenues, is a daunting proposition and not something they want to do, but they're getting louder and louder - and they're just as upset with the union as they are with the league.

Dick Butkus, perhaps the greatest linebacker ever, refuses to attend the annual Hall of Fame induction ceremony because of what he believes is the cold shoulder being given to former players. Former player and coach Mike Ditka also refuses to attend and raises money for players down on their luck. He used his ESPN pulpit to call attention to the situation during the most recent Super Bowl.

Former Colts safety Bruce Laird has also been a leading voice, organizing a local alumni chapter and overseeing an Internet blog that has provided a forum for former players to air gripes.

Now, as The Sun's Ken Murray reported earlier this week, the union is threatening to shut down alumni chapters that speak out negatively - a cheap, misguided stunt. Instead of trying to squelch dissent, the union should be more concerned about seeing that some of the players who helped make the NFL so popular and profitable get better care.

True, the union doesn't represent former players - a federal law stipulates that - and a fair share of these retired players hurt their own causes by taking early pensions years ago, severely limiting their payouts today. They also, in some cases, continued to play when it was obvious they should have retired. You can't blame the league for that.

In this complicated case, the union has legitimate defenses behind which it can retreat, as does the league, which can't be expected to have to oversee players from a half-century ago.

But in the end, this is about sheer human decency.

Legendary players such as Green Bay's Willie Wood, who is now broken down and destitute, shouldn't be left to live out their days so sadly. Players such as the late John Unitas, whose disabilities obviously dated to his playing career, shouldn't be hassled so much when they file disability claims.

Many of the players I interviewed earlier this year said they were fine and didn't need help, but they named dozens in need. There are more than anyone realizes, the players said.

It's shameful this situation exists, given the staggering amount of money pumping through pro football's veins. Surely a small portion of the league's colossal TV riches could be set aside for hurting football pioneers - whose historic exploits the NFL readily sells, by the way.

No doubt, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell and the league's other higher-ups just wish the whole issue would go away. That seems less likely as more former players raise their voices.

It might ultimately prove to have been an effective tactic. The NFL loathes image nightmares, and if enough former players continue to speak out, this could become one. The league usually acts quickly to make such nightmares go away; look at its new off-field policy, mandated after a series of embarrassing incidents.

Goodell and the owners could feel compelled to get together and reach out to hurting retired players - not out of compassion as much as image concerns, but who cares? The most important thing would be to help the players who need it and deserve it.

Keep shouting, guys, keep shouting.

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Stover reaches out to Colts alumni

Ravens' NFLPA rep trying to bridge divide with retired players

By Ken Murray
Baltimore Sun Reporter

April 20, 2007, 8:00 PM EDT

Matt Stover achieved a temporary truce this week with the leader of the Baltimore Colts alumni group after an NFL Players Association memo threatened to exacerbate a conflict between retired players and the union.

Stover, the Ravens' kicker and player representative, met with Bruce Laird, president of Baltimore's NFL alumni chapter, on Wednesday, trying to restore dialogue between the two factions.

At the heart of the retired players' discontent is their belief they do not have a voice in union decisions, and their distrust of the efforts of Gene Upshaw, executive director of the NFLPA.

"We've always known the perception [of retired players] is that Gene is insensitive to their concerns," Stover said today. "I've been a player rep for 16 years, and I don't believe that's true. One of the things I'm trying to do is change that perception."

Stover's approach with Laird, a former Colts safety, was to offer help in reestablishing communication with the union and among retired players.

"I told him the union can facilitate that communication," Stover said. "As long as [retired players] are making the NFLPA an adversary, then it's not going to work.

"We can set up a chat room for the alumni, an information Web site. We can begin to partnership with these guys more and more."

Laird seemed receptive to the idea today.

"We agreed that I will work within the confines of the system to try to work this out," he said. "And I want to say again that we as retired players are grateful for what the active players have given us since 1993, when they [improved pension benefits]."

What Laird wants is representation at the NFLPA's annual convention in Hawaii each March with two retired players.

"My stance is, I want a full democratic election for two retired players to interact with the active player reps," he said.

At last month's NFLPA convention in Maui, active players passed a resolution introduced by Stover to invite two members of the retired players' steering committee to address the general session of the board of reps. Stover estimated they would be given 20 to 30 minutes to speak.

Laird is in disagreement with how the two retired players would be selected. Steering committee members are required to attend the retired players' convention each June, be nominated and then elected.

He contends that 50 percent of retired players who go to the convention are not vested in the union, with at least four years of service. "My feeling is, that is not democracy."

Laird also said he did not feel qualified for the two positions, effectively removing himself from consideration.

In a March memorandum sent out by Andre Collins, who is director of the NFLPA retired players, the union passed a resolution that it can remove an officer of a retired players chapter for conduct detrimental to the union. The memo also said it could dissolve a chapter whose leaders had engaged in such conduct.

Last spring, the active players voted to designate $116 million toward pension increases for retired players, including a 25 percent hike for vested players who played before 1982.

Despite those raises, retired players continued to complain about Upshaw and the union. One retired player, Bernie Parrish, went so far as to sue the union's Players Inc. department for revenue he says was unfairly withheld.

"We, as player reps, were saying, 'What's the deal?'" Stover said. "We just got them $116 million. We understand they want to be whole, but that would take over $1 billion. It isn't going to happen.

"I want the retired players to understand that whatever we do, it's not going to be perfect."

Retired players are trying to improve their lot with fundraisers. The Baltimore alumni are planning a Sept. 20 salute to Colts' Hall of Famer Art Donovan, with proceeds going to help struggling retired players.

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O'Neill's Hit & Run: Friday Edition

By Dan O'Neill
ST. LOUIS POST-DISPATCH
04/20/2007

Reminiscent of President Richard Nixon's paranoid White House of the early 1970s, the NFL Players Association has moved to suppress retired players that have been campaigning for changes to health and pension benefits.

The Gene Upshaw-led NFLPA is threatening to dissolve alumni chapters whose leaders speak out against the union. According to a Denver Post story, Andre Collins, the NFLPA's director of retired players, has sent memos to chapters across the country, notifying alumni presidents that if their conduct is deemed detrimental to the NFLPA their accreditation might be pulled.

Shrewd move, NFLPA. Who handles your public relations, the Corleone family? When do you start leaving horse heads under the sheets?

"If this happens, the NFLPA is infringing on my rights as an American to speak out," Wade Manning, the NFLPA's Denver alumni president, told the Associated Press. Manning played for the Broncos and Dallas Cowboys in the late 1970s and early 1980s. "I left body parts on stadium floors. I should be able to say what I want."

Some might suggest the union's time would be better spent trying to keep its members out of jails, fights, paternity suits, drugs, fines and suspensions. Instead, they appear to be committed to silencing veteran players who have publicized the lack of support for long-term physical and mental problems some have suffered as a result of their careers.

Bruce Laird, the former Baltimore Colts and San Diego Chargers player who leads the retiree chapter in Baltimore, told the AP: "Basically, the union is saying that if you don't drink the Kool-Aid, then you better keep your mouth shut."

Laird posts a blog that supports better benefits for former players.

"To me, this is a blog issue, no question," Laird said. "But (as bloggers) we're just trying to get the truth out. We want people to know what has happened to the makers of this game."

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PENSION TENSION: NFL leaves league's pioneers behind

Dennis Taylor On the NFL
Monterey County (Calif.) Herald
Article Last Updated:04/20/2007 08:58:39 AM PDT

The story John Guzik tells about his body is one you're likely to hear from any 70-year-old man who once played in the National Football League.

He's had back surgery, in part because there's no cartilage left between many of his vertebrae. His neck doesn't move anymore, so he turns his entire torso to see behind him when he drives. His right knee has been surgically repaired. His teeth have been broken. His nose was busted three times. He once played a quarter-and-a-half of a college game with a broken arm. A shattered ankle ended his NFL career.

Like many players from his era, Guzik, who is in pain every day, receives no pension or medical care from the NFL because his career lasted fewer than four seasons. That's not a problem for him — he's made fortunate business decisions over the years, owns a home on the 13th fairway at Corral de Tierra Country Club, and lives a comfortable life.

But he says other players of his era are in dire straits, with broken bodies, no medical, little or no income, and no help from either the NFL or the NFL Players Association. That's a situation that needs to change, says Guzik, (who, for the first year since 1959, did not renew his membership with the Players Association). But neither the league nor the union seems to care.

"Football was good to me," said Guzik, with total sincerity. "I grew up in Hill Station, Pa., near Pittsburgh, which was a town of 900 people — all coal miners. As kids, we'd see those guys coming out of the mines, filthy dirty and spitting up blood. My high school coach (Val Rizzo) told us if we got good grades and practiced hard, he'd do what he could to get us out of that atmosphere."

And it happened. Rizzo helped 13 of his 23 players play college football. Guzik got a scholarship at Pitt, where he played in the Sugar Bowl and Gator Bowl, became an All-American, and was voted the NCAA's College Lineman of the Year. He was a co-captain at the Hula Bowl, the East-West Shrine Game and the College All-Star Game, where, as a graduating senior, he played against Johnny Unitas and the world champion Baltimore Colts.

The Los Angeles Rams drafted Guzik in the first round in 1959, signing him to the largest contract any team had ever offered a college lineman: $8,500 a year, with a $2,000 signing bonus. (He spent the bonus on a new Chevy Impala.)

Three years later, it was all over. Guzik, who'd been traded to Baltimore, was injured just 10 days into training camp in his second season. Two days after he got off his crutches, the Colts cut him. After one more stop, with the American Football League's Houston Oilers, he was all through.

"If you got hurt back then, they'd wait until you could put your shoes on and walk, and then you were gone," he said. "And that would be it — all of the ties were cut.

"The trainer would hand each of us our paycheck after every game, and the pay was week-to-week," he said. "There were no guarantees. You might not have a job when you came back to the practice field on Monday morning. I knew a lot of guys who just disappeared the week after they got hurt."

Players who played four full seasons in the league are vested, and in 2002, the league increased payments to 1,400 pre-1977 players to $200 per month (up from the previous maximum of $180) for each season played. The new deal failed to impress many former players.

"This is chump change we're talking about," said Eagles Hall of Fame linebacker Chuck Bednarik. "Our era built the NFL, and now they don't give a damn at all about us. We have been completely and utterly forgotten."

Indeed, more than 300 former stars — including many former superstars — still get less than $150 a month for the time they spent in the NFL because they were told by the players union that pro football players generally die young, and were ill-advised to accept more money up front, and a lot less later. Ex-Packers great Herb Adderley, a '60s-vintage cornerback who took that deal, receives $126 a month.

"Mine's pretty close to that," said Salinas native Joe Kapp, who quarterbacked the Minnesota Vikings to their first Super Bowl in 1970. "The money they send me every month doesn't even pay for the cerveza I drink. I mean, I'm happy to be alive, and I'm happy for my pain, because I understand what the alternative is, but most of the players who built that league receive nothing for it. Dick Butkus had to sue the league to get his knee fixed."

Many of those who played in the NFL 10-20 years later aren't much better off. Ex-Raider Mike Siani, a first-round draft choice in 1972, gets $492 a month.

And they're the fortunate ones. Players whose careers were cut shorter than four full years receive nothing.

"I actually did play in the league for four years — the first two as a full-time starter — but then I hurt my knee," said Monterey's Joe Soboleski, 80, a former All-America lineman at Michigan who played with the Detroit Lions, Cleveland Browns, Chicago Hornets, New York Titans and Washington Redskins in a career that began in 1949. "I started the first game of the year in my fourth season, got hurt again, and they let me go."

So Soboleski — who aches today from three knee replacements, five shoulder separations, five broken noses, and a couple of back injuries — gets no medical and no pension from either the league or the union. (He said the Lions, acting independently from the NFL or the union, offered to help him with one of his knee replacements a few years ago.)

Like Guzik, he's OK. Soboleski, a military veteran and former school teacher, has his medical needs and pension covered. But he, too, says he knows some of his former colleagues are in need.

"I think it's a rotten shame. The least they could do is help the guys who are hurting," he said. "But I'll tell you one thing: The Players Association isn't in favor of it, because it takes money away from their pot."

Said Adderley, "The current union has forgotten about the 325 guys who are receiving less than $150 a month. We are not included in any of the collective-bargaining agreements for increases that the other retired guys receive."

Indeed, Gene Upshaw, director of NFL Players Association, bluntly shrugged off the problem in a 2006 interview with the Charlotte Observer.

"The bottom line is I don't work for them," Upshaw said, referring to the retired NFL players who have asked him to help solve the problem. "They didn'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."

Upshaw reportedly is paid $3 million a year to represent the interests of NFL players, but Guzik says most modern-day players couldn't care less about the plight of their NFL ancestors.

"Those guys are making so much money today — I made $770 a week, and they make that much in one minute — but when you talk to a current player, he'll generally just look down his nose at you," he said. "It's like, 'Sorry, buddy, but what do you want me to do for you?' That's a disheartening situation."

Kapp says he gets far-superior benefits from the Screen Actor's Guild for his brief Hollywood career, highlighted by a role in "The Longest Yard." He says the anger against the NFL and the NFLPA is widespread.

"Every old player is hurting, and every one of us is at least half-pissed," he said. "There are all kinds of stories out there about guys who are down and out, guys who need help. The NFL isn't a factory that makes cars. These guys are human beings."

Former NFL star Jerry Kramer has established the "Gridiron Greats Assistance Fund" to help struggling ex-players, and the NFL Alumni organization has created a similar program, called "Dire Need."

Meanwhile, the National Football League reportedly stands to make $25 billion over the next eight years from television revenues, alone. (The league recently christened its own network.) Additional billions will come from the sale of tickets, apparel and memorabilia.

The current collective-bargaining agreement expires after the 2007 season.

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NFLPA tries to silence vocal alums

By Robert Sanchez
Denver Post Staff Writer
The Denver Post
Article Last Updated:04/19/2007 12:45:41 AM MDT

In a move to silence retired professional football players who have called for reforms to health and pension benefits, the NFL Players Association has threatened to dissolve alumni chapters whose leaders who speak out against the union.

Memos sent recently from Andre Collins - the NFLPA's director of retired players - to chapters across the country notified alumni presidents that leaders engaging in conduct deemed detrimental to the NFLPA could lead to their organizations being closed.

"If this happens, the NFLPA is infringing on my rights as an American to speak out," said Wade Manning, the NFLPA's Denver alumni president who played for the Broncos and Dallas Cowboys in the late 1970s and early 1980s. "I left body parts on stadium floors. I should be able to say what I want."

Former NFL players have become more vocal in recent years about the long-term physical and mental problems they have resulting from their playing days.

Most recently, retired players have begun posting Internet blogs showing they are disillusioned with the union, its current players and a league they helped bring into prominence.

"Basically, the union is saying that if you don't drink the Kool-Aid, then you better keep your mouth shut," said Bruce Laird, a former player for the Baltimore Colts and San Diego Chargers who leads the NFLPA's retiree chapter in Baltimore.

In his spare time, Laird runs a blog supporting better benefits for former players.

"To me, this is a blog issue, no question," Laird said. "But (as bloggers) we're just trying to get the truth out. We want people to know what has happened to the makers of this game."

The union's memo, in part, said the dissent clause was added to the NFLPA's constitution at the union's meeting last month in Maui, Hawaii, to offset what NFLPA leaders have seen as inaccurate comments regarding benefits for former players. The memo also said rhetoric from retirees "stemmed from players making poor pension decisions before they had reached full retirement age."

Both Gene Upshaw, the union's executive director, and Troy Vincent, the union's president, have the authority to close chapters or to begin proceedings to strip chapter officials of their duties if the alumni organizations violate the new clause, the memo said.

Carl Francis, the NFLPA's director of communication, could not be reached for comment. The union in the past has said it took retirees' questions seriously when it approved a 25 percent pension increase for vested players before 1982 and a 10 percent jump for those after 1982 in the most recent collective bargaining agreement.

Laird said the threat from the NFLPA is hollow, especially since retirees cannot vote in union decisions.

"We still have BlackBerrys and cellphones and e-mail, so it's not like we won't continue to get together and talk about this," he said.

Manning, the Denver chapter's leader, said punitive action from the union won't dissuade him from speaking about health-care and pension issues.

"I never made enough money to live happily ever after," he said. "The (current) players need to know what we've experienced after the game ended, because that will be them soon."

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Former NFL players unhappy with league's treatment of injured retirees

by Leighton Ginn
The Desert Sun, Palm Desert, Calif.
April 18, 2007

PALM DESERT - On a night where several ex-NFL players were donating their time for charity, those same players were questioning the NFL and its failure to provide health care for its needy veterans.

The NFL Alumni Chapter of Southern California are in Palm Desert for the Gridiron Golf Classic today. At Tuesday night's pairings party, many players voiced their displeasure with the NFL failing to provide adequate health care for its neediest retirees who are suffering from ailments traced to their playing days.

During the Super Bowl, former Chicago Bears coach Mike Ditka began spreading word about the problem, generating national attention.

Ditka has refused to attend the NFL Hall of Fame induction ceremonies and was the subject of a "Real Sports with Bryant Gumbel" story on HBO, as well as other print articles.

Former Los Angeles Rams guard Dennis Harrah said the best man at his wedding, former teammate Gary Dunn, has suffered from several ailments and will need to have a leg amputated. And he has been unable to qualify for disability through the league, having been turned down 12 times.

And Dunn is one of many former players who have suffered from conditions such as Alzheimer's, dementia and depression from having various head injuries during their playing days.

"It's such a tragedy that we have to deal with no health insurance," Harrah said. "All we want is a fair share. I come from West Virginia. The coal miners today took care of the coal miners that have black lung. You know what, that's all we're asking for.

"All I can say, if the coal miners can take care of their fallen soldiers with black lung, we can take care of a fallen soldiers with the head, back, knee and other injuries they sustained. It was a great job and I was lucky and fortunate to have it, but we have to take care of our fallen soldiers."

Mike Pyle, who played on the Chicago Bears in 1963, talked about his teammate, Larry Morris, who is suffering from dementia and was the subject of a Chicago Tribune feature over the weekend.

"He was the same as I always was, if we didn't play (former coach George) Halas would get rid of us," Pyle said. "It's a current story and it's a very sad story. There's no system to help."

Tied in with the health care problem is the pension. Although the NFL is a $6 billion dollar business, the pension for former players trails other sports such as baseball.

Chuck Detwiler, a former defensive back with the San Diego Charger, has been a financial planner since he retired from the league and understands the difficulty of getting funding for the NFL's pension and health care.

"The truth of the matter is, in order to take care of the retired guys, the players and the owners would really have to come up with the money," Detwiler said. "Not that they can't, but you can't expect the modern day player to pay for the retirement of a player from years ago. It is what it is, our salaries were low back then. The benefit pension is based on what you made. As much as I would love to see changes, I see the complexities of it."

As difficult as it might be to come up with the financing to help suffering players, Harrah said he finds it unacceptable not to be proactive to help others.

"We got the tents here tonight. I can fill up the tents with the air I got about the disgruntled feeling I have over the union," Harrah said.

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NFLPA reacts to disgruntled retired players

Group cracks down on those deemed guilty of conduct detrimental to union's best interests

By Ken Murray
Baltimore Sun Reporter

April 16, 2007, 7:41 PM EDT

Reacting to a rising level of negative blogs by former players, the NFL Players Association has decided to crack down on leaders and chapters of disgruntled retired players.

A memorandum, dated March 30 and issued by Andre Collins, the NFLPA's director of retired players, threatens to dissolve any retired chapter deemed guilty of conduct detrimental to the union's best interests, as well as remove a chapter president.

Bruce Laird, president of the chapter of retired Baltimore Colts, says he got the message loud and clear.

"I think it's a warning over the bow that if ... other people want to speak out for representation in the NFL, it's looked upon unfavorably."

Laird, who played safety with the Colts from 1972 to 1981 and was a union leader, has spent the past three years organizing retired players in an effort to improve pension benefits. He keeps lines of communication open for retired players on an Internet blog.

Abner Haynes, a star running back in the American Football League, and Bernie Parrish, a 1960s cornerback who sued the union in February, also post blogs about the plight of retired players.

Collins did not respond to an e-mail request for an interview, but his memo makes clear his intent to tone down the rhetoric inspired by the retired players' discontent.

The memo said the NFL's board of (active) player representatives passed two significant resolutions at a March meeting in Maui. The first was an amendment that will allow the president of the NFLPA retired players steering committee and another committee member to address the general session at the league's annual meeting.

The second involved Article VII, the punitive section of the league constitution.

It says that Gene Upshaw, executive director of the NFLPA, or Troy Vincent, the union president, can initiate proceedings to remove any retired chapter president, the retired players steering committee president or a steering committee member who has engaged in conduct detrimental to the NFLPA.

Upshaw and Vincent also could move to close down a retired players chapter whose leaders have engaged in detrimental conduct.

Carl Francis, the NFLPA's director of communication, said the memo was not directed at any one chapter of retired players.

"It's really not our objective to go out and aggressively close chapters," Francis said. "Our goal is to have everyone on the same page that was agreed on by being part of the retired players association."

Retired players, however, have not been on the same page for a while. Even though the union passed a pension increase of 25 percent for vested players before 1982 and 10 percent for vested players after 1982 in the latest collective bargaining agreement, the relationship between retired and active players has steadily deteriorated.

That was a talking point in this year's player rep meetings.

In his memo, Collins said inaccuracies about the pension and alleged lack of support from the NFLPA "stemmed from players making poor pension decisions before they had reached full retirement age."

Laird insists he is appreciative of concessions made by active players, but he believes more can be done to help struggling and indigent retired players.

"Many of our guys are wealthy and many are well off," he said. "But I know hundreds that need help now.

"What we're looking for is to be represented somehow in the process. They can talk about the steering committee, but they do nothing, have done nothing. They don't communicate with retired players."

Laird's alumni group launched The Baltimore Football Club, Inc., last January to advocate and raise funds for retired players. The organization will hold a benefit for Colts' Hall of Famer Art Donovan on Sept. 20, with funds going to retired players in need.

Jim Mutscheller, a member of the Baltimore alumni, allowed that Laird's efforts have put him in conflict with the union.

"Obviously, Bruce has done a lot of things with his blog, and I'm sure it's upset [the union]," Mutscheller said. "If I'm in Upshaw's position, I'd be upset, too. Bruce is making people aware of what the problems are."

Tom Matte, vice president of the Baltimore chapter, defended the blog as well.

"I think it's a way to get people to communicate," he said. "We all have questions and the only way to get answers is to write an opinion and throw it out to the other guys."

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Ex-NFL lineman calls Mickelson 'angel'

http://www.augusta.com/stories/040107/mas_122384.shtml

Sunday, April 1, 2007

By Scott Michaux
Staff Writer

The whispers about Phil Mickelson are hard to believe.

Cynics see a marquee athlete who smiles all the time, interacts with fans and gives back some of his blessings and wonder, "Is he too good to be true?"

Some question the genuineness of his generosity, from his tour-affiliated charitable initiatives to spending time signing autographs.

Some people believe Mickelson is a phony. Of course, some people believe NASA never put a man on the moon. Both would be cases of extreme efforts being made to perpetuate a living hoax.

"He does not have a 'show' Phil," said Dave Pelz, Mickelson's friend and short-game coach. "There's no on-screen persona he brings out. He smiles because he's happy and enjoys life."

Mickelson is careful what he reveals publicly about the charities that come under the umbrella of the Phil and Amy Mickelson Foundation.

"There are a number of things I don't feel comfortable talking about because it would question my intentions. Why is it that I'm doing that?" Mickelson said. "Some of the other things that Amy and I do, it's not important that anyone knows."

That Phil Mickelson and Conrad Dobler would ever be mentioned in the same sentence has to rank among the more implausible associations in sports.

We're talking the goodiest two shoes from sports' most gentlemanly quarters mixing with the widely advertised dirtiest player from the trenches of NFL history.

Short of Ray Lewis and Mary Lou Retton hanging out at a post-Super Bowl party, it wouldn't get much weirder.

But Mickelson and Dobler have provided an example of the best in human nature. The revelation of the link between two athletes from different sports and different generations who have never met or even spoken on the telephone gives a deeper insight to what makes the two-time Masters winner tick.

"When people steal trust from you, it's tough to get back. And then when someone like Phil comes along, it gives you hope that the world isn't made up of people that you can't trust. That's the biggest message for what he has done."

"He loves golf, he's a great golfer, he'll be in the Hall of Fame and be one of the best to ever play," said Mack Brown, the University of Texas football coach who is a close friend of Mickelson. "But he will want his legacy, along with Amy's, to be more about giving and caring for people than just about the game of golf."

Dobler will certainly attest to that. Mickelson has enriched his life with what can only be described as a random act of kindness. Though the golfer would have preferred the relationship be kept confidential, Dobler wanted the world to know.

"Hopefully, people will catch on to that like that one movie, Pay It Forward," Dobler said, referring to the sentimental 2000 film about a young boy whose homework project to come up with an idea to change the world yields a system for doing good deeds for three people who will each in turn do good deeds for three others.

"I hope it's a platform where other people can see that and realize that giving is living."

Mickelson's generosity came to light in February, when Dobler told Golf World columnist Bob Verdi.

The connection between Mickelson and Dobler was made after ESPN did one of those where-are-they-now feature pieces about Dobler, the three-time Pro Bowl offensive lineman from the 1970s once dubbed "Pro Football's Dirtiest Player" on the cover of Sports Illustrated. It turns out that the man who once bit the finger of an opposing defender wasn't in the best of places.

Life was relatively fine for Dobler, his wife, Joy, and their six children until July 4, 2001. Retired for nearly 20 years from football and running a successful business in Kansas providing temporary medical help to hospitals, the Doblers were enjoying a typical Independence Day. That's when something as simple as relaxing at a backyard barbecue turned into a lifetime horror.

Joy Dobler fell out of a hammock, a drop of only about 18 inches to the ground. But she broke her neck and became paralyzed from the neck down. After nearly six years of costly and intense rehab, she has made some progress but remains a quadriplegic. The business has been downsized to help pay medical expenses. The family's lifestyle forever changed.

Dobler certainly didn't get rich from playing in the NFL in the 1970s. His starting contract with the St. Louis Cardinals in 1972 was for $17,000, and his best salary of $130,000 was reached nearly a decade later in Buffalo.

There weren't too many endorsement deals being offered to the reputed nastiest player in the league.

"It certainly helped me on the football field in the sense of taking the game away from my opponents that they thought I was this Attila the Hun," Dobler said. "But in the public world and corporate America, they didn't know what to do with a guy who had that reputation. Maybe I should have gotten a soap commercial. Merlin Olsen said that one of these days somebody is going to break Dobler's neck and I'm not going
to send any flowers. He ends up with an FTD commercial, and I get nothing."

Dobler needed much more than the pittance from his NFL disability benefits to pay his wife's medical bills, which ran about $18,000 a month in the first year after the accident.

Here's where Mickelson entered the picture. He saw the ESPN piece on Dobler, which focused on his wife's efforts to stimulate stem cell and spinal cord research and the NFL's lack of compassion for the bygone gladiators who made the league the wealthy sports entity it is today.

One thing that struck Mickelson in the piece was Dobler mentioning his daughter Holli - their second-youngest child - who had worked the hardest in high school of any of her siblings and deserved to go to whatever college she desired.

"Two or three years ago, before my wife's injury, I certainly had the opportunity to send her any place she wanted to go, but now I'm even hard-pressed to send her to a junior college," Dobler said.

Mickelson instructed his agent, Glen Cohen, to contact Dobler and offer to help pay for Holli's tuition to the school of her choice.

Dobler - beaten down by years of having the NFL turn its back on him - was floored. Having never met Mickelson in his life, Dobler asked Cohen, "Why?"

"Because he can," Cohen told him.

"Sometimes when you least expect it an angel will show up and take care of you," Dobler said.

Mickelson reportedly paid $20,000 for Holli's first-year tuition at Miami of Ohio. He adds a $2,000 cost of living increase each year.

"When people steal trust from you, it's tough to get back," Dobler said. "And then when someone like Phil comes along, it gives you hope that the world isn't made up of people that you can't trust. That's the biggest message for what he has done."

The Doblers have no doubts about how genuine Mickelson's generosity is.

"If there's anything missing in his life, it's a set of wings. He's an angel," Joy Dobler told Golf World. "And if I can see him for the first time, I'm going to go up and give him a big hug."

Mickelson invited the Doblers to the Memorial Tournament in Ohio at the end of May, played only a couple of hours from where Holli is a sophomore - maintaining a 3.8 grade-point average while working parttime as a waitress to cover other expenses.

Whatever rendezvous they have is intended to be private, but Mickelson offered one brief comment on the subject.

"They have been wonderful," he said of the Doblers, noting the pride he takes in Holli's academic success. "I am so excited the opportunity is being taken advantage of. That makes Amy and I want to do more, and we have. It's been fun."

HOW PHIL HELPS

Public charities that benefit through the Phil and Amy Mickelson Charitable Gift Fund:

Birdies for the Brave: He pledges $100 for every birdie and $500 for every eagle to benefit our nation's troops. Part of the money collected goes to the Homes for Our Troops program, which provides wounded and disabled veterans with new homes or renovates existing homes for handicap accessibility. The rest goes to the Special
Operations Warrior Foundation, which provides college scholarship grants to the children of special operations personnel killed in combat or training.

Start Smart: The Mickelsons donated $250,000 to the San Diego, Calif., program last summer, taking 1,200 kids from 24 elementary schools on a Wal-Mart spending spree for needed school supplies and clothes.

Teachers Academy: In 2005, the Mickelsons formed a partnership with ExxonMobil to launch a program aimed at providing third- through fifth-grade teachers in the communities where Mickelson plays golf with the knowledge and skills needed to motivate students to pursue careers in science and math.

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