The illegal hit Pittsburgh Steelers linebacker James Harrison laid on the chin of Cleveland Browns quarterback Colt McCoy Thursday night has resulted in a game suspension. On the surface that may seem like quite a deterrent but a close look at the actions and reactions of a host of participants from the time of the hit to today reveals that almost everyone has this thing all wrong.
THE HIT
On the run and focusing on his receiver a few yards away, McCoy never saw it coming – the helmet to his chin, his head snapping back and smashing into the turf. After the fact, he says he doesn’t even remember the hit.
I’ve played a variety of contact sports my entire life, now stretching into my fourth decade. I’ve had broken bones, bloody lips, chipped teeth, dislocated joints, and more aches than I care to recall. Some of those things I consider badges of honor for playing hard and leaving it all on the field.
I have never been hit so hard that I don’t remember a portion of my life. To me, that is a sobering concept.
I understand that NFL players get hit harder than I could ever imagine on every play but the hit Harrison put on McCoy was just plain wrong. And as we’re coming to understand more as a sport-focused society, a very dangerous one. Not just for the short-term but in many cases there are life-long effects.
The NFL has clearly outlawed these purposeful helmet-to-helmet collisions for that very reason. Yes, the business must protect its assets but they are also doing great things to try to protect the brains and spines of athletes who will live many years outside the game of football. You would think every player would understand that and respect it for the good of all.
Did Harrison launch himself off the ground? No. But he absolutely lowered his head so that the crown of his helmet hit McCoy first.
Illegal. Immoral. Dangerous.
And for the Browns to send him back in to try and pull out a game that means nothing to them in terms of playoff chances is disturbing. Where was the value in that?
FIVE EQUALS ONE
The NFL decided Tuesday to suspend Harrison for one game, citing some ambiguous “five equals one” calculation. Where does that come from and how does it make sense?
If in fact the NFL is serious about outlawing hits of that exact nature, and they seem to have been serious up to this point, why does it take five illegal, immoral, dangerous, disturbingly purposeful collisions to the head and/or spine of another player over the course of three seasons for a player to finally lose a game?
If the NFL truly believes what they say about protecting players against the volatile effects that violent collisions have on brain matter over the course of a lifetime, how come ONE does not equal one?
MAKING A SCENE, FOR WHAT?
Harrison has since mocked (out loud, apparently) the NFL’s decision via Twitter. He has also submitted an appeal of his suspension.
Certainly he is appealing because it is his legal right to do so under the Collective Bargaining Agreement. And because he is the first player to be suspended under these circumstances, he and his advisers will obviously test the process.
But at what cost? Who needs protection here, Harrison or the guys he knocks out?
Does he truly believe he does not deserve a suspension? If so, is his belief based solely on the fact that this type of suspension has never been handed down before?
Can he be that stupid? Or is he simply that arrogant?
My guess is that he simply loves this black-hat role and will play it out to the end. Seems to me that his appeal makes a mockery of a system designed to protect him, too. It takes one violent hit to the head to change a man’s life forever and it could one day be him laid out like that, left with no memory of the event.
Hopefully Ted Cottrell sees through it all and makes the right decision. Hopefully, the NFL will then feel empowered to levy more fines, more often, and work on moving closer to that “one equals one” thing I mentioned earlier.
It’s the right thing to do.
Jacque Wanabe loves football, baseball, hoops and Rock Band. He competes almost daily with other jock wanna-be’s on the field, computer, console, or all alone in his warped stat-infested mind. A child of the 80’s, Jacque’s passion has always been the Washington Redskins; for years he had a dumb dog and a fast car, each named Riggo, and longs for the days of straight-leg kickers, The Hogs and The Smurfs.
Sources: Yahoo! Sports, Twitter, NFL Network, NFL.com