More than 100 million people will watch Sunday's Super Bowl, feasting on guacamole and the hits of the game.
But few will pay attention to the story after the story: the post-career health effects of the game on the players involved.
This week, NFL retirees have tried to get their stories out — again. A law firm in Washington, DC, emailed a copy of "The Voice," a newsletter for NFL retirees. The publication details the frightening struggles prompted by the physical and violent nature of the game.
In addition, The Associated Press this week wrote an in-depth story on retired players suing the NFL, charging more could have been done to warn them about the dangers of concussions. The story includes an interview with Hall of Fame running back Tony Dorsett that would make the most fervent cynics shiver.
Many credit commissioner Roger Goodell for his efforts to recognize the severity of concussions and the importance of treatment, but they still feel more could be done.
In his Super Bowl news conference Friday, Goodell said the league "will continue to address medical issues to make sure that we can address the population of our retired players, and we will not quit.
"We're not done yet," he said. "We're going to continue to help our retired players, current players and future players by making the game safer. And we will do that with rules. We will do that with improving the equipment. And we will do that by making sure we pioneer research."
Retired players have told their story told before — it appears almost annually during Super Bowl week — but it's worth repeating. Because the damage that is done to players' minds and bodies is significant, measurable and scary.
"I have lingering effects," said former Browns safety Al Gross (1983-87), who said he had several concussions. "My memory is not what it was. I leave stuff, forget stuff, walk into rooms and really don't remember what I came in there for."
Gross now has an Internet radio show, "Football with Coach Al Gross," relating to youth and high school football that is broadcast worldwide via the Voice of America. His goal: Bring greater education to parents, coaches and trainers at a younger age about the dangers of concussion and other injuries.
It's an emotion shared by former Bengal Caleb Miller (2004-07). Both are plaintiffs in one of the lawsuits against the NFL regarding concussions, but both would like more and better information shared with young football players. Miller believes it should happen in high school.
"From the middle of high school they should be telling kids, ‘If you continue to play, if you have enough head injuries, you may not know who you are at some point in life,' " Miller said. "Maybe by the time you're 40 or 50 years old — and that's not far away. You may have so many physical issues people may not recognize you. But you may not know yourself.
"If they would tell young guys, most would still play, but they need to have a legitimate discussion about those things. And say, ‘I'm not trying to scare you. It's the way it is. It's the truth.' "
The physical cost of football becomes more and more clear as more and more stories of retired players are told. And while concussions are properly the focus of attention, the injuries go beyond concussions. The newsletter contained a difficult-to-read story about Johnny Unitas, one of the greatest quarterbacks ever to play, written by his widow, Sandy.
In 1993, Unitas lost the use of his right hand, caused, he believed, by a serious elbow injury he suffered in a preseason game more than 20 years earlier. The man who used his right arm to win games could not use his hand to brush his teeth, button his shirt or tie his shoelaces.
Unitas played with a broken nose, broken ribs, punctured lung and knee injuries that eventually forced him to have both knees replaced. In 1997, Unitas underwent five hours of surgery to restore the use of his hand. In 2001, he had another procedure for the hand that required a three-day hospital stay, during which he had an allergic reaction that caused a mini-stroke.
Unitas never gave up. To play golf, he had Velcro sewn on to his glove so he could hold the club. He wrapped rubber bands round pens so he could sign autographs.
Then there's former Houston Oiler lineman Elvin Bethea, who, after retiring, underwent surgery on his neck, right ring finger and back along with a double knee replacement.
The stories go on and on.
Earl Campbell has so much back pain he can hardly move. Lineman Conrad Dobler — once celebrated as one of the nastiest players in the league — has undergone 11 surgeries and takes 10 different medications each day caring for his disabled wife. Raiders lineman Curt Marsh's right leg was amputated. Bears linebacker Wilber Marshall lives in constant pain because of spinal compression and knee and shoulder issues. Packers safety Willie Wood suffers from dementia and diabetes as well as chronic knee and back pain. And former Bears safety Dave Duerson committed suicide, leaving a note to donate his brain to science for study.
Wrapped up in the physical maladies are the struggles of the retired players to have their medical costs covered. Unitas' wife wrote that the former quarterback was denied his disability claim because he was older than 55 when he applied and because he was deemed not totally disabled.
Players are celebrated for their physical skills. The nastiest hits are replayed, and injuries are quickly shrugged off in print and on TV as "out for the year." What's never seen is the long-term price many pay, the price that leaves them hobbled, aching, with plastic knees and a medicine chest full of painkillers.
Yet the sport is so enticing, the money so rewarding that even with the maladies, players probably would play again if they had the chance.
At some point, the price has to be recognized. Brutally and honestly.
