“I am still enjoying the game. I feel good, and as long as I am out there having fun, I will continue to play.”
Those were the words uttered back in January by Wes Welker, the Denver Broncos’ dependable, albeit maligned, wide receiver. The context of the quote was in relation to concussions — specifically, the two he suffered during Denver’s close-but-no-cigar 2013 season, in which he missed the final three regular-season games.
“They are scary deals and I have friends that I have played with that tell me they have issues with it now. It is one of those things that you have to deal with and try to make the best decision for yourself.”
“They,” he meant, are head traumas, injuries he’s become all too familiar with over the last decade. And the apparent best decision he made for himself was to continue his playing career. So he did, returning in 2014 for his eleventh NFL season as the team’s slot wideout.
Then the past reared its ugly head. Again. Those in attendance at Mile High Stadium on Aug. 23, when the Broncos battled the Texans in preseason action, held their breath as they watched Welker take a hard blow to the head while going over the middle for a pass. He would get right up, but was quickly escorted to the locker room by trainers.
The prognosis, as coach John Fox confirmed the following day: Concussion, his third since November. Fortunately for Welker, his specially designed helmet, tailor made to absorb blows, took the brunt of the impact. But it still was another black and blue on Welker’s brain — not that that organ is important or anything.
(Please note the sarcasm.)
As Welker entered the league’s mandated concussion protocol, a series of tests players have to pass in order to suit up again, the question was raised: Should Welker walk away from the game?
His coach said the answer is no. “That’s not been brought up at all.”
I beg to differ, and I point to Exhibit A — Arizona Cardinals linebacker John Abraham, who’s reportedly on the verge of retirement due to memory loss sustained from a career filled with concussions.
This is real life, folks. If you’ve kept up in recent years, you’d know of the league’s ongoing battle with CTE, described by ESPN’s Outside The Lines as ” the degenerative brain disease linked to depression and dementia and attributed by some scientists to head trauma.”
Autopsies found CTE-like symptoms in Hall of Famer Mike Webster and Junior Seau, who tragically took his own life in 2012. The disease is directly attributed to years of physical abuse on the gridiron. The human body can only take so much, and it wasn’t built for the continuous hits (read: car crashes) of the everyday NFL contest.
Abraham was smart enough to realize there’s more to life after football. He’s seemingly getting out before it’s too late. Before the repercussions become irreversible and potentially life-threatening.
Welker, if he was as smart, would think long and hard about doing the same. Let’s be clear: He’s no spring chicken. Going on 34-years-old (in May), he’s enjoyed a long, prosperous career, helping two separate teams reach the Super Bowl behind juggernaut offenses. The only accomplishment that’s escaped him is a ring, which he’s come this close to.
But is the pursuit of hardware really worth headaches, memory loss, and, very quite possibly, a shortened life span? He’s made enough money to safely walk away without having to work another day. He can just as easily get an analyst gig at ESPN or NFL Network, making a generous salary for half of the stress — and none of the physical punishment.
No one would judge or look down upon Welker for bowing out. Health comes first and foremost, after all. Of all the routes he’s run, this isn’t one he’s willing to go, however.
As of last week, Welker has been medically cleared from his concussion, given the green light to re-join his teammates on the field — when his NFL-imposed, amphetamine-triggered suspension is up, anyway.
Later this month (or maybe even sooner), Welker will be welcomed back to the Broncos’ elite offense, starring as Peyton Manning’s trusty safety value. Manning will enjoy having his go-to man back, as will many of the Denver fans decked out in No. 83 jerseys. It’ll be fun and games in the short-term, until Welker scampers through the middle of the field and into the cross-hairs of an overeager defender.
Then what? Concussion number four. Medical tests. NFL protocol. Rinse, repeat.
In order to avoid that, Welker must give thought to hanging ’em up. It doesn’t have to be today. Or tomorrow. But it needs to be in the back of his mind — while he can still remember.