Author Malcolm Gladwell recently suggested that college football be abolished or that its players be paid for their risk.
"It's a bit much," he told Slate.com, "both to maim AND exploit college football players."
Fair points, all, even if the suits at the NCAA would probably laugh you straight out of Indianapolis. Money talks, even if Larry Linebacker can't walk.
Besides, Johnno Lazetich has a better idea.
"It's beautiful that the NFL alumni association are lobbying as hard as they are," explains Lazetich, who played fullback at Kansas State in 1999-2000, during the apex of the first Bill Snyder Era. "There needs to be something at the college level for all of us who blew out their knees, blew out our shoulders, in addition to concussions. There needs to be help for us."
Lazetich is 34 now. An old 34. He suffered seven concussions playing football in his teens and 20s, including five — by his count — during a two-year stretch at Manhattan. The doozy, he says, came against Temple in the 1999 season opener.
"My first memory of the day was coach Snyder coming to see me in intensive care," Johnno recalls. "I don't remember tying my tie. I don't remember the game at all. And then (three) weeks later, I'm back starting again — it's a (nationally televised) game with Brent Musburger announcing at Texas Stadium, just because I passed the concussion test at the time.
"We do a lot of stupid things. Looking back on it, it probably wasn't the smartest thing I did."
More than a decade later, the scars throb — and linger. Lazetich suffers lapses in concentration. The short-term memory comes and goes. The headaches are killer, although they pop up a lot less frequently than they did five years ago.
"Still, if you ask me to close my eyes and shake my head back and forth as hard as I can, I'd tell you to go (expletive) yourself," says the native of Reno, Nev., who played at Oregon State before joining the Wildcats. "There are certain things that I'm really cautious (about). I definitely can't afford any more concussions. I wear a helmet constantly. So I've lucked out as far as the fact that I don't have as severe of (symptoms) of (post-concussion syndrome)."
Luck is relative, mind you: Lazetich estimates his injuries have cost him at least $500 per year, "Just for physical therapy, just for sports medicine, just for little things."
None of this is an excuse to rail against football in general, or Kansas State in particular. To the contrary: Johnno has no beefs with Bill Snyder.
"Coach Snyder, he's No. 1 as far making sure that his players are OK and safe," Lazetich says. He has no problems with the trainers and staffers in the athletic department, either. He says they were looking out for his best interests first, and that he was the one pushing to re-enter the fray.
In hindsight, the only one Johnno blames is himself. Lazetich is a Tough Guy. Tough Guys don't break the Macho Code. They get off their tails and get back in there. It's not that Tough Guys aren't told about the risks. It's that Tough Guys don't care.
"When I woke up in intensive care and didn't remember the whole entire day, that probably should have been my last day," chuckles Lazetich, who finally gave up football late in the 2000 campaign after taking a knee to the head against Oklahoma. "But it's tough. Heck, you're playing in front of soldout crowds, 50,000 to 60,000 people. We were ranked (second in the nation) going into the Oklahoma game. Here I am, the starting fullback."
In March, the NCAA announced it was providing a $400,000 grant to the National Sport Concussion Outcomes Study Consortium to examine the effects of head injuries in all sports and both genders "through the course of a college career." Of course, they could have saved that dough and just called Dr. Bart Grelinger first.
"Each time you get a concussion, it's easier to get the next one," says Grelinger, a Wichita neurologist and chair of the Kansas Sports Concussion Partnership. "Our heads just aren't designed (for us) to be shaken like that.
"We have 100 billion brain cells we start with … I think football just gives you an opportunity to lose them quicker, because you get right back in harm's way very quickly."
Don't get him wrong; Grelinger loves the sport. He even played it back in the day. He still participates in taekwondo. He's a Tough Guy, too. He insists education is the key to prevention, as opposed to more equipment or — as you've seen in the headlines lately — litigation.
"Helmets will never keep up. Helmets will never answer it," Grelinger says. "They can't keep up (with) the pressure wave … It helps absorb some of the impact, but (the head is) still going to jerk.
"The bottom line is, I don't think we were designed for this activity. We're a gladiator society, what can I tell you? If it's not football, it's boxing, or MMA. We love competition, but there's competition at a marathon. We REALLY like that gladiator kind of competition."
With the non-believers, Grelinger likes to use this example: If you were playing volleyball in the backyard or on the beach, would you use your laptop or tablet to strike the thing? So why do you think it's OK to use your head?
When it comes to reforming the Macho Culture, Grelinger says parents, not coaches or administrators, are our biggest obstacle.
"Everybody wants their boys to play. 'He's tough as nails, he'll shake it off.' That stuff doesn't fly. You can't think of your kids as gladiators."
Pete Lazetich thinks of his kid as a blessing. Johnno, who helps manage his parents' legal courier service and processing company back home in Reno, Nev., was a third-generation football standout, the latest branch in a family tree of Tough Guys. His dad, Pete, was an All-American at Stanford and played five years in the NFL with San Diego and Philadelphia. His grandfather, Bill, played with the old Cleveland Rams before joining the Marines during World War II. Great uncle Mike was a two-way star with the Rams between 1945-50.
Pete says he got his bell rung six or seven times, with roughly half of those coming during his NFL days — after one shot, he blacked out and woke up in the locker room only to find Deacon Jones there trying to hold him down. As a player, he feared no man. But as a parent of a prep fullback/linebacker, Pete feared every snap of every game Johnno ever played in.
"It's terrifying, absolutely terrifying," the elder Lazetich says. "And you watch the game, and you say a prayer before every play, just to keep them safe and sound."
He also remembers the first time Johnno was diagnosed with a concussion, back in high school. When Pete got to the sidelines to try and talk to his son, he found Johnno sitting there, eyes awash with tears.
"You're just disoriented, you're frightened, you don't know what's going on," Pete says. "I cried a couple times because you don't know what the (expletive) is happening."
An estimated 1.7 million people suffer traumatic brain injuries each year, according to the US Centers for Disease and Prevention. As they age, former professional football players are showing symptoms of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), a neurological disorder that can lead to depression, memory loss and possibly dementia.
More than 2,000 pros are now suing the NFL, and the suicides of former defensive icons such as Junior Seau, Dave Duerson and Ray Easterling — like Pete, a member of the NFL's 1972 Draft class — has put the link between football and brain damage back on the front page.
"I really get a kick out of this now; now the NFL says, 'Oh, man, we gotta study this,'" Pete says. "They've been hiding this for years. They didn't want to go there for years and years. They just did an outstanding job of throwing this through smoke and mirrors and (expletive).
"I played with John Mackey his last year as a pro (in San Diego). He came out with John Unitas. There was something about the guy, being in the locker room, just listening to him speak, being as articulate as he was. Just a man. Just a leader. I'd vote for him for President. And (to see him) now — I couldn't believe it."
Last fall, a group of former college athletes — including three former football players — filed a lawsuit against the NCAA, asserting that the organization failed to establish concussion-screening guidelines and return-to-play policies. The suit seeks money to pay for medical bills and financial losses. But an NCAA spokesman told FOXSports.com this week he "wasn't aware" of any discussions taking place as far as offering extended protection or insurance for former student-athletes. More's the pity.
"It's so tough to look back, because the experience was definitely — I mean, in certain ways, some of the best years (of my life)," Johnno says. "Your experience playing against Nebraska and Texas and Texas A&M, the Holiday Bowl, the Cotton Bowl, those kind of things. These are the things that you're going to be able to tell your grandchildren."
But what if your son gets the itch? What would you tell him? What if he comes running up to you one day and asks you to sign a consent form? After all, it runs in the blood.
Suddenly, Johnno is quiet. For a few seconds, he ponders.
"I'm definitely not going to tell him 'no,'" Lazetich finally replies. "But he's definitely going to know what daddy's past was."
Tough Guys don't worry about regrets. Regrets are for old men. But isn't it scary how many football players seem to get so old, so soon?
