[Congressional Record (Bound Edition), Volume 154 (2008), Part 1]
[Senate]
[Pages 1200-1202]
[From the U.S. Government Publishing Office, www.gpo.gov]




                            NFL PLAYERS CARE

  Mr. REID. Mr. President, when my children were growing up, we had a 
rule that they accepted--they don't seem to complain now--where we 
didn't watch television on Sunday. It was just kind of a rule we put 
down. The television was on all the other times, but on Sunday we 
didn't watch TV, except on Super Bowl Sunday.
  This coming Sunday is the 42nd Super Bowl. It is going to be in 
Phoenix, AZ. Now, whether this game is a nail-biter or a blowout, we 
will long remember the heroics of this game, whatever they might be. It 
might be a goal line stand. It won't be in subzero weather; it is in 
Phoenix. It may be a fourth-down Hail Mary pass that saves the day or 
it may be the player who suffers an injury in the first quarter but is 
able to limp back on the field and play through the pain and who will 
then be known as the man who led his team to victory even though he was 
injured. These heroes will, all of them, soak up the cheers of an 
adoring nation on Sunday.
  But there are hundreds and hundreds of former National Football 
League players who no longer hear those cheers. Instead, they suffer 
great pain as a result of lifelong injuries from their days on the 
field. These are the stars of yore, the stars of the past.
  Two people from Nevada whom I know are people who were injured 
playing professional football. These men draw pensions as a result of 
their injuries because they were modern-day football players. Henry 
Rolling--an outstanding athlete--went to my high school, basic high 
school, came out of high school 175 pounds, wound up being a 4-year 
All-American, University of Nevada, Reno, played in the pros for 9 or 
10 years, and was injured. He has the benefit of all of the good things 
that come about from being a National Football League player.
  Some of the players are legends. To me, Henry Rolling is a legend. 
Some are wealthy. Henry Rolling is a rich man now. He lives 
comfortably. But many others never hoisted a trophy or earned a spot in 
our memories. Many were faceless figures behind helmets, lost to 
history but for these yellowed

[[Page 1201]]

photographs they show to their families, and maybe even some dusty 
highlight reels. They helped build a league but never earned much from 
their on-the-field heroics. Often, they worked second jobs in the off 
season. So, far from basking in the kind of wealth we associate with 
the athletes of today, many are now struggling just to pay their bills 
and make ends meet for their families. But when they came to the 
National Football League's retirement plan to claim their disability 
benefits, they were told go someplace else: Go to our State and see 
what they have for you. The National Football League can't help. As 
wealthy as they are, they have turned these players away. The league to 
which they gave their hearts, souls, and bodies has not stood by their 
side.
  In September, one of these former players who lives in Reno, NV, 
Brent Boyd, stopped in my office to visit with me to tell me about his 
struggles, which are the struggles of many former football players. He 
is a huge man, and he is not fat. When he played, he was 6 foot 3 and 
weighed 270 pounds. You couldn't see Brent without thinking: That guy 
must be a football player. He played football at UCLA and was drafted 
by the Minnesota Vikings.
  Now, what do we know about the Minnesota Vikings? During his tenure 
there, they played football on AstroTurf. Brent explained to me it 
would be like playing a football game on cement covered with a rug. 
Every time he hit the pavement, he was hurt. That is the way it was 
with many of those players. He was an offensive lineman. During a 
preseason game in 1980, Brent remembers only waking up after being hit 
very hard. He had a terrible headache. He couldn't see out of one eye. 
His coach asked his rookie lineman whether he could see out of the 
other eye. He said yes.
  He said go back into the game, so he went back in and he was blind in 
one eye. Brent did what was expected of him; played through his injury, 
as he played through many injuries. That was the culture of the sport 
and the NFL. That was one of countless hard hits Brent took during his 
playing days.
  He told me:

       How would you like playing football on cement? That's what 
     we did.

  That was what the old artificial playing surface was like. Every hit, 
when he went down and hit his head, even though he had a helmet on, he 
could feel it.
  It wasn't until years later his doctors began to connect the dots and 
discovered his chronic dizziness, fatigue, depression, and headaches 
were a result of head injuries as a result of hit after hit that he 
took during his 6-year career.
  I have talked about Henry Rolling, one of my Nevada heroes. I went to 
high school with a man by the name of Rupert Sendlein. He was a big 
man. He had a son who went to the University of Texas. He was an All-
American, and he played professional football for 8 years. At the 
beginning of his ninth year, he went to his doctors and they examined 
him. They said: Robin, you can't play football anymore. You have had so 
many concussions that you have to stop.
  Well, Brent didn't have the ability to go to a doctor when he wanted. 
Robin Sendlein now is retired in Phoenix Arizona making a lot of money. 
His son now is the starting center at the University of Texas. Robin 
Sendlein had the benefit Brent Boyd didn't have.
  Brent is unable to hold down a steady job. He doesn't think right. He 
went to the NFL retirement plan for help, but he was granted $1,550 a 
month in disability payments--far below the $8,200 promised to ex-
players whose injuries resulted from football.
  Brent told me of the struggle that ensued, many doctor visits, 
delays, denies, and financial troubles.
  We all know football is a terribly dangerous sport. For those who 
earn millions, perhaps it is fair to say the reward is worth the risk. 
But Brent played in a different time. He never signed a big contract, 
never earned a shoe endorsement deal, never appeared in commercials.
  Now he struggles to pay his bills. He struggles to pay his rent. Is 
Brent's story an exception? No.
  Two football greats--Mike Ditka and Jerry Kramer--people whom those 
of us my age, and probably all ages, are familiar with. Mike Ditka and 
Jerry Kramer were gridiron greats. They helped create the fund to help 
retired players. They discovered heartbreaking stories from retired 
stars, including Willie Wood, a Hall of Fame safety. Willie Wood--I 
know about him because I was in high school with Bobby Peck. He was an 
athlete but not very tall. He was All-State in football, baseball, and 
basketball. He went to a junior college called Coalinga Junior College 
in California, which prepared people to go to USC and other great 
schools. I was stunned. Bobby Peck was not the starting quarterback. He 
was beaten out by a man by the name of Willie Wood. Athletically, Bobby 
had never been beaten out by anybody in anything. So he, the next year, 
went to Dixie Junior College in St. George, UT, where he became all-
conference, and then he went to the University of Nevada. He was in a 
different league than Willie Wood, who went on to play quarterback at 
the University of Southern California.
  As good as he was, Willie Wood figured he was good enough to play in 
the NFL. He tried out for the Green Bay Packers. Vince Lombardi said: 
OK, you can try out. Willie Wood became probably the greatest safety in 
the history of the National Football League. He has had many injuries. 
He weighed 175 pounds.
  Others are Wilber Marshall, a three-time Pro Bowl linebacker; Conrad 
Dobler, a three-time Pro Bowl lineman; and Herb Adderley, an All-Big 
Ten star at Michigan State and star cornerback for the Green Bay 
Packers and Dallas Cowboys.
  These are gridiron greats who also came upon many lesser known 
players with stories like Brent's. Mike Moseley, of the Buffalo Bills, 
suffered knee, neck, and back injuries that forced him to retire early 
and left him permanently disabled.
  Initially, the NFL disability committee granted him benefits. In 
September 2004, a doctor hired by the NFL ruled that he could do 
sedentary work, and they cut off his benefits. This reminds me of when 
I started out practicing law. For a few years, I did insurance defense 
work. We had doctors that insurance companies would bring in and it 
didn't matter how bad somebody was hurt, they determined they weren't 
hurt very badly. That is what this reminds me of. Mike Moseley lost his 
home, his car, and his savings. His life has been torn apart.
  Another example is Brian DeMarco, a lineman for the Jacksonville 
Jaguars. Similar to Mike, Brian was forced into an early retirement by 
injury. He was unable to navigate the disability system's redtape--even 
though his back was broken in 17 different places. Brian and his family 
were left homeless. He told the Denver Post that the NFL:

     Is a multibillion dollar business, and guys are giving their 
     quality of life up for this sport. Just a little respect and 
     dignity is all we want.

  These stories illustrate a point the statistics confirm. According to 
one press report, almost two-thirds of former professional football 
players suffer injuries serious enough to require surgery, and almost 
half of all players retire due to injury.
  But among the more than the 1,000 disability claims filed by former 
NFL players, about 30 percent have received approval. The rest are 
thrown in the trash bin, such as my friend from Reno, NV.
  Brent Boyd was among the former players who testified before the 
Commerce Committee this past September. They told us how they feel 
abandoned and forgotten lost in endless doctor visits and redtape.
  Daryl Johnson, who played 11 years as running back for the Cowboys, 
testified that he retired with 5 years remaining on his contract after 
suffering a herniated disc.
  The Players' Association sent him for an evaluation with one of their 
doctors--not his own. He was not permitted to even bring his X rays or 
MRI results. Similar to so many others, his claim was denied.

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  After the hearing last September, and countless news stories, the NFL 
and the Players' Association have taken some steps to right the wrong.
  Where before their approval process seemed a little more than ad hoc, 
they now apply standards used by the Social Security Administration to 
determine disability. We hope it is more effective.
  They have also implemented the 88 Plan, which provides funds for a 
residential care facility or in-home care. The question is, Who are 
they going to give it to?
  Brent Boyd, and so many like him, still suffer the pain of their 
injuries, still struggle to pay their bills on far less disability 
assistance than they deserve. Some suffer the inability to think 
properly because of the head trauma they suffered.
  In the coming weeks, I will work with the NFL and the Players' 
Association and other retirees to ensure progress is being made.
  As the bright lights shine on Super Bowl XLII this Sunday--and they 
are a multibillion dollar business, and they should help these people--
I want Brent and his injured brothers to know they are not fighting in 
the shadows. They deserve a spotlight also.

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