Imagine you’re Tua Tagovailoa.
Growing up in a demanding household in Hawai‘i, with everything centered on your football dreams. At Alabama, many of those dreams and aspirations were fulfilled, but your future was also thrown into flux with two high-ankle sprains that led to tightrope surgeries, a broken hand and, most devastatingly, a dislocated hip that ended your college career.
And while that didn’t stop the Dolphins from taking you as the fifth pick in the 2020 NFL draft, for whatever the reason, be it the injuries or your size or your athletic limitations, your coach and your team’s owner your first two years never fully buy into you. You’re yo-yo’ed in and out of the lineup as a rookie. You break your ribs, then your finger, and miss time in your second year. Your team makes a run at trading for Deshaun Watson in the interim, then pursues Tom Brady after the season.
But in your third year in the league, with new coach Mike McDaniel, it’s finally all coming together. The team signs a great left tackle (Terron Armstead) and trades for a star receiver (Tyreek Hill) to round out the offense. The new staff installs a system similar to the one you excelled in at Alabama to highlight your talents. You start the season 2–0, and you’re playing the kings of your division, the Bills, in Week 3. Suddenly, everything has turned—your team’s present future look bright, and a contract at $50 million per year isn’t out of the question.
What would you have done over the past week?
Would you have self-reported concussion symptoms, if you had them, during the Bills game on Sunday? Or would you have done all you could to get yourself back out there, because it’s football, and God knows your teammates get their bells rung plenty, playing a more physical position than you do? Would you have entered yourself into the concussion protocol with another big AFC game coming Thursday night against the Bengals? Or would you have pinned the way you stumbled to the ground against the Bills, after having your head slammed to the turf, on a balky back?
This is the reality of being an NFL player, where guys are always making bargains with their physical well-being to live out their dreams, get the highs of playing a sport that’s unlike any other, pursue team success, build legacies and, ultimately, try to generate generational wealth.
So what Tagovailoa may have done on Sunday afternoon, Thursday night and through the time in between—only he knows how he felt through the two hits in particular, and the period of time encompassing them in general—is not unlike what thousands of football players have done over the years. But one of the greatest things about football, how it teaches the people who play it to keep going when things get hard, is also what can create scenes such as the one we saw on Thursday night in downtown Cincinnati.
I love football, and have since before I can remember. I think it’s the greatest sport on the planet. Which is why I think it’s so important that all of us ask the right questions now.
And the overarching one, to me, is whether enough was done to protect Tagovailoa from himself. Because the truth is, so many players have stories such as Tagovailoa’s and, through no fault of their own, need that protection.
