New Haven Register (New Haven, CT)
NFL star-crossed on head injuries
“Paper Head,” they would call him, mostly because athletes so love to bust on each other over any perceived idiosyncrasy, but Irv Cross’ nickname came just as assuredly from the everyday ignorance of things not yet understood.
A couple of things happened this week to illuminate a kind of cultural then-and-now of NFL concussions, with Cross, the late Pro Bowl defensive back and groundbreaking broadcaster getting remembered mostly as one of the game’s great gentlemen.
But his brain took such a pounding during nine seasons with the pre-Super Bowl era Eagles and Rams that a postmortem analysis released Tuesday by researchers at Boston University indicated Stage 4 CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy), the most debilitating form of dysfunction related to repeated blows to the head.
“Toward the end,” his wife, Liz, told The Associated Press in Philadelphia, “he saw things that weren’t there.”
Meanwhile, the NFL’s continually suspect ability to see things that are very much evident regarding concussions was absorbing another round of introspection in Indianapolis, where league officials in conjunction with their medical advisers seemed resolved to “get the head further out of the game.”
Concussions were up in 2022, particularly among quarterbacks, the league’s marquee position, so the Rams have proposed that roughing the passer calls be reviewable by replay, Judy Battista of NFL Network reported. The distinction at issue, she explained, is the sling vs. the slam. Slamming the quarterback to the ground should be penalized, the Competition Committee feels, but merely slinging him is a natural part of the play.
Wish that I could report that defensive linemen of the 1940s were often scrutinized for whether they were slingin’ or slammin’ Slingin’ Sammy Baugh, but alas, there’s a lack of evidence.
There is reportedly little stomach among the owners for expanding replay into that particular area, but you can expect further action to protect the head, including the increased use of Guardian Caps in practice. Guardian Caps are those soft-shell layers added to the standard hard helmets and are designed to lessen impact by as much as 33 percent, with the added benefit of making everyone look like The Great Gazoo. (Google it.)
A 33 percent reduction in wallop sounds good, but the force generated by many NFL collisions, even going all the way back to Cross’ era, has proven deadly to too many, including Steelers Mike Webster, Justin Strzelczyk and Terry Long.
Cross told his wife that he was once hit so hard he nearly swallowed his tongue, but he was fortunate that CTE symptoms didn’t present until much later in life.
In his 70s, Cross approached long-time Philadelphia columnist and NFL Hall of Famer Ray Didinger about doing a book on his life. In addition to a distinguished career with NFL Films, Didinger is a playwright, having created “Tommy and Me,” about Eagles receiver Tommy McDonald, another Hall of Famer.
“In our conversation, Irv said he was dealing with health issues, which sounded a lot like CTE,” Didinger told me this week. “Like many former players, he had mixed emotions about his career. He loved playing but said something that stuck with me. He said, ‘We were like hamburger being ground up.’ It was a powerful statement and, sadly, very true. I saw it up close with Tommy in his later years. Tommy had Stage 4 CTE. It was awful.”
Cross died in February 2021 and had long since isolated himself in paranoia. His wife said he was afraid he’d be asked a question and wouldn’t know the answer. He suffered from depression, mood swings, memory loss, a horrid end to a life of virtually uninterrupted accomplishment.
One of 15 children his parents raised in Hammond, Ind., Cross excelled in football and track at Northwestern. He was drafted by the defending NFL champion Eagles in 1961, wound up starting at cornerback before the season ended and played through 1969. Soon after his playing days ended, he became the first African American man to work full-time as a national football analyst, then joined Brent Musberger, Phyllis George and Jimmy “The Greek” Snyder on a pregame show that was the prototype for every such iteration that followed. In his post-broadcast life, he became a college athletic director.
That’s the kind of curriculum vitae that should preclude any lingering “Paper Head” aspersion, but Cross’ head injuries were more than a decades-old memory. Though he played in an era when players were rarely sidelined by concussions (they’d merely been “dinged” or “had their bell rung” in the football parlance of the day), Cross missed significant time with his concussions.
Didinger vividly remembers reading about one late-season Eagles practice when snow began to fall. One of Cross’ teammates yelled, “Cross, put your helmet on, what if one of these snowflakes hits you in the head?’” Everyone laughed, according to the story, including Cross.
No one’s laughing anymore, but that doesn’t mean the league is where it needs to be on concussions.