The wild shyt is that there will always be cats lined up to play...
The Official Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (C.T.E.) Thread...Bob Costas "Game destroys Brains"
- Thread starter North of Death
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Lottery ticket mentality
Study: Muhammad Ali's Speech Was Slowed, Slurred Before Parkinson's Diagnosis
A study set to be released Wednesday determined Muhammad Ali displayed signs of slowed or slurred speech as much as a decade before he was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease.
According to ESPN.com's William Weinbaum, Arizona State University speech scientists Visar Berisha and Julie Liss studied public speaking appearances Ali made from 1968 through 1981 and found his speaking rate slowed by 26 percent from the ages of 26 to 39.
Ali was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease at the age of 42 and died in 2016 at the age of 74.
Jonathan Eig, author of the upcoming biography Ali: A Life was part of the study as well, and he found Ali's speech slowed by 16 percent after a 1977 fight against Earnie Shavers that saw him absorb 266 punches.
Eig concluded Ali's speech would slowly rebound the further removed he got from fights but that irreparable damage was done.
Per Weinbam, Eig said Ali had some knowledge regarding the danger he put himself in by fighting until he was nearly 40: "Ali did damage to himself and he knew it and kept boxing too long, but he didn't have the information we now have about CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy)—you don't have to wait until you're middle-aged to stop."
Ali's last fight was in 1981 against Trevor Berbick, and the study found he was already slurring his words three years prior to that.
The official Parkinson's diagnosis came almost three years after Ali retired from boxing.
Study: Muhammad Ali's Speech Was Slowed, Slurred Before Parkinson's Diagnosis
A study set to be released Wednesday determined Muhammad Ali displayed signs of slowed or slurred speech as much as a decade before he was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease.
According to ESPN.com's William Weinbaum, Arizona State University speech scientists Visar Berisha and Julie Liss studied public speaking appearances Ali made from 1968 through 1981 and found his speaking rate slowed by 26 percent from the ages of 26 to 39.
Ali was diagnosed with Parkinson's disease at the age of 42 and died in 2016 at the age of 74.
Jonathan Eig, author of the upcoming biography Ali: A Life was part of the study as well, and he found Ali's speech slowed by 16 percent after a 1977 fight against Earnie Shavers that saw him absorb 266 punches.
Eig concluded Ali's speech would slowly rebound the further removed he got from fights but that irreparable damage was done.
Per Weinbam, Eig said Ali had some knowledge regarding the danger he put himself in by fighting until he was nearly 40: "Ali did damage to himself and he knew it and kept boxing too long, but he didn't have the information we now have about CTE (chronic traumatic encephalopathy)—you don't have to wait until you're middle-aged to stop."
Ali's last fight was in 1981 against Trevor Berbick, and the study found he was already slurring his words three years prior to that.
The official Parkinson's diagnosis came almost three years after Ali retired from boxing.
Study: Muhammad Ali's Speech Was Slowed, Slurred Before Parkinson's Diagnosis
helmets in football are like gloves in boxing, it's not there to make the sport less violent, but to provide more sustained violence.
This hurts, but, it's the nature of the game.
Wives of Former NFL Players with CTE
In 1988, Dixon was a first-round draft pick; today, "he's trapped in a body that doesn't work," says his wife, Lorraine
Lorraine Dixon is one of a growing number of women left to take care of men whose brains have been addled from years of playing football. This is the story of their battle for redemption.
by Mark Fainaru-Wada and Simon Baumgart
08/25/17
This story appears in ESPN The Magazine's Sept. 18 NFL Preview Issue. Subscribe today!
I'm sitting here outside the hospital in my car taking deep breaths. I was told I need to take off of work to be trained on how to administer the [tracheostomy tube] and keep it clean and I actually think I'm in a state of shock:
How do I do this and work full time?
How do I do this and take care of a 20 year old special needs son?
How do I do this and run around with a 9 year old who dreams of modeling, acting, being a pageant princess and still maintain her GPA and make sure that she is a well balanced 9 year old?
How do I maintain the house and cook and clean?
When do I work out?
And my thoughts go to the NFL and I am numb, they knew but because of money hid it?
Who does this to people, to families?
IT'S A HOT summer evening in Dallas, and Lorraine Dixon is trying desperately not to fall apart. She's holed up in her car outside of Williams P. Clements Jr. University Hospital, terrified. Tubes have been surgically inserted into her husband's throat and stomach, procedures designed to help him eat and breathe. But in reality, they represent more work for Lorraine and heightened fears that the end is near. The doctors said her husband had three to five years to live. This is Year 4.
Lorraine's mind is racing, but she can't speak her thoughts, can't give them life, so instead she texts them to a reporter who has been pressing for details of a life shaped by football in ways she never could have imagined.
Two days earlier, Boston University researchers had announced that, out of 111 brains of former NFL players they had studied, all but one was laden with a neurodegenerative disease. Behind those numbers are women like Lorraine Dixon -- and perhaps thousands of others -- battling the human dimensions of a growing crisis that reverberates outward, from the crippled men down through their entire families.
Some researchers -- particularly those affiliated with the NFL and other sports leagues -- have suggested that the connection between football and long-term brain damage is overstated: that the link between the two is unsettled, that the BU research is limited and skewed, and that the scope of the problem is likely far smaller than imagined. But there is a Facebook group called "Women of the NFL" that suggests otherwise. It has more than 2,000 members -- wives, girlfriends, ex-wives, daughters, widows of former players -- whose interaction these days often revolves around brain-addled men.
This, then, is not another story about the warriors who sacrificed their minds and bodies to build football into a $14 billion industry. Rather, this is the tale of the women behind the men; women who have now been thrust into the roles of caretakers, managing the lives of men who once embodied strength and self-reliance.
Men like Rickey Dixon, who played six seasons in the NFL, from 1988 to 1993, and was diagnosed four years ago, at age 47, with Lou Gehrig's disease (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS). Today, Dixon is restricted largely to his bed and a wheelchair -- unable to do anything independently. Other than think.
"He's trapped in a body that doesn't work," says Lorraine, who has been married to Dixon for 24 years.
Or men like Gerry Sullivan, who played eight seasons in the NFL, from 1974 to 1981, and then two more in the USFL.
"So, he's basically got, I always like to say, [10] years of pro football under his belt and, unfortunately, under his brain," says Liz Nicholson Sullivan, who has been with Gerry for more than two decades; the two were married two years ago.
In 2004, at age 52, Gerry Sullivan was diagnosed with frontal lobe dementia. He's now largely a shut-in, confined to their high-rise apartment in Chicago, fearful of going outside, paranoid and so forgetful that their home is riddled with Post-it notes.
For Lorraine Dixon, Liz Nicholson Sullivan and so many other women, their NFL experiences have been redefined in later years, colored by the transformations of these men and, now, by the legal battles they're waging. It has fallen on them to navigate the NFL concussion case -- the $1 billion settlement that stemmed from thousands of players suing the league over claims it hid the dangers of concussions. The settlement was supposed to provide much-needed money to ease their burdens; instead, for many, it has become a legal morass defined by battles with lawyers, predatory lenders and a complicated award process.
Says Nicholson Sullivan: "It is a very difficult world that we are living in right now in light of the lawsuit and in light of the enormous amount of, I won't call them vultures, I will call them people that are coming out to profit from NFL families that are struggling with a loved one who is very sick."
Says Lorraine Dixon, herself an attorney: "It's just a bunch of greed going on, and it's sickening."
Wife of former NFL player:
In 1988, Dixon was a first-round draft pick; today, "he's trapped in a body that doesn't work," says his wife, Lorraine
Lorraine Dixon is one of a growing number of women left to take care of men whose brains have been addled from years of playing football. This is the story of their battle for redemption.
by Mark Fainaru-Wada and Simon Baumgart
08/25/17
This story appears in ESPN The Magazine's Sept. 18 NFL Preview Issue. Subscribe today!
I'm sitting here outside the hospital in my car taking deep breaths. I was told I need to take off of work to be trained on how to administer the [tracheostomy tube] and keep it clean and I actually think I'm in a state of shock:
How do I do this and work full time?
How do I do this and take care of a 20 year old special needs son?
How do I do this and run around with a 9 year old who dreams of modeling, acting, being a pageant princess and still maintain her GPA and make sure that she is a well balanced 9 year old?
How do I maintain the house and cook and clean?
When do I work out?
And my thoughts go to the NFL and I am numb, they knew but because of money hid it?
Who does this to people, to families?
IT'S A HOT summer evening in Dallas, and Lorraine Dixon is trying desperately not to fall apart. She's holed up in her car outside of Williams P. Clements Jr. University Hospital, terrified. Tubes have been surgically inserted into her husband's throat and stomach, procedures designed to help him eat and breathe. But in reality, they represent more work for Lorraine and heightened fears that the end is near. The doctors said her husband had three to five years to live. This is Year 4.
Lorraine's mind is racing, but she can't speak her thoughts, can't give them life, so instead she texts them to a reporter who has been pressing for details of a life shaped by football in ways she never could have imagined.
Two days earlier, Boston University researchers had announced that, out of 111 brains of former NFL players they had studied, all but one was laden with a neurodegenerative disease. Behind those numbers are women like Lorraine Dixon -- and perhaps thousands of others -- battling the human dimensions of a growing crisis that reverberates outward, from the crippled men down through their entire families.
Some researchers -- particularly those affiliated with the NFL and other sports leagues -- have suggested that the connection between football and long-term brain damage is overstated: that the link between the two is unsettled, that the BU research is limited and skewed, and that the scope of the problem is likely far smaller than imagined. But there is a Facebook group called "Women of the NFL" that suggests otherwise. It has more than 2,000 members -- wives, girlfriends, ex-wives, daughters, widows of former players -- whose interaction these days often revolves around brain-addled men.
This, then, is not another story about the warriors who sacrificed their minds and bodies to build football into a $14 billion industry. Rather, this is the tale of the women behind the men; women who have now been thrust into the roles of caretakers, managing the lives of men who once embodied strength and self-reliance.
Men like Rickey Dixon, who played six seasons in the NFL, from 1988 to 1993, and was diagnosed four years ago, at age 47, with Lou Gehrig's disease (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, or ALS). Today, Dixon is restricted largely to his bed and a wheelchair -- unable to do anything independently. Other than think.
"He's trapped in a body that doesn't work," says Lorraine, who has been married to Dixon for 24 years.
Or men like Gerry Sullivan, who played eight seasons in the NFL, from 1974 to 1981, and then two more in the USFL.
"So, he's basically got, I always like to say, [10] years of pro football under his belt and, unfortunately, under his brain," says Liz Nicholson Sullivan, who has been with Gerry for more than two decades; the two were married two years ago.
In 2004, at age 52, Gerry Sullivan was diagnosed with frontal lobe dementia. He's now largely a shut-in, confined to their high-rise apartment in Chicago, fearful of going outside, paranoid and so forgetful that their home is riddled with Post-it notes.
For Lorraine Dixon, Liz Nicholson Sullivan and so many other women, their NFL experiences have been redefined in later years, colored by the transformations of these men and, now, by the legal battles they're waging. It has fallen on them to navigate the NFL concussion case -- the $1 billion settlement that stemmed from thousands of players suing the league over claims it hid the dangers of concussions. The settlement was supposed to provide much-needed money to ease their burdens; instead, for many, it has become a legal morass defined by battles with lawyers, predatory lenders and a complicated award process.
Says Nicholson Sullivan: "It is a very difficult world that we are living in right now in light of the lawsuit and in light of the enormous amount of, I won't call them vultures, I will call them people that are coming out to profit from NFL families that are struggling with a loved one who is very sick."
Says Lorraine Dixon, herself an attorney: "It's just a bunch of greed going on, and it's sickening."
Wife of former NFL player:
Very scary many of these dudes retire when there like 30 still have more than half of your life I'd you love to a average age to live.
I still watch football but I cringe now with every hit knowing that theres potential brain damage...I just dont see how this sport survives in 20 years
E60 did on story on Dixon. Not only does she have to take care of him, they have 21yo son who can't talk and will need care his whole life. Also the former lawyers are suing her for 20% of his $4.5 mi!lion reward from the NFL. 
Bob Costas on the future of football: 'This game destroys people's brains'
COLLEGE PARK, Md. — As far as longtime sports broadcaster Bob Costas is concerned, the future of football in the United States is clear — and bleak.
“The reality is that this game destroys people’s brains," he said Tuesday night.
Speaking at a roundtable discussion at the University of Maryland, Costas, who hosted Football Night in America on NBC for more than a decade, said the sport could collapse over time, barring a development in technology to make it reasonably safe. He said the decline of football, which was once “a cash machine,” is the most significant story in American sports.
“The cracks in the foundation are there,” Costas said. “The day-to-day issues, as serious as they may be, they may come and go. But you cannot change the nature of the game. I certainly would not let, if I had an athletically gifted 12- or 13-year-old son, I would not let him play football.”
MORE: NFL hot seat rankings: Um, it seems Giants' Ben McAdoo in serious jeopardy
MORE: 40 things to watch for in second half of 2017 NFL season
Costas spoke alongside USA TODAY Sports columnist Christine Brennan and ESPN’s Tony Kornheiser and Mike Wilbon at the university’s annual Shirley Povich Symposium, named after the late Washington Post sports columnist. The panel touched on a wide range of topics, including Jemele Hill’s suspension at ESPN and the ever-changing landscape of sports journalism, but the future of football became a recurring theme
Bob Costas on the future of football: 'This game destroys people's brains'
COLLEGE PARK, Md. — As far as longtime sports broadcaster Bob Costas is concerned, the future of football in the United States is clear — and bleak.
“The reality is that this game destroys people’s brains," he said Tuesday night.
Speaking at a roundtable discussion at the University of Maryland, Costas, who hosted Football Night in America on NBC for more than a decade, said the sport could collapse over time, barring a development in technology to make it reasonably safe. He said the decline of football, which was once “a cash machine,” is the most significant story in American sports.
“The cracks in the foundation are there,” Costas said. “The day-to-day issues, as serious as they may be, they may come and go. But you cannot change the nature of the game. I certainly would not let, if I had an athletically gifted 12- or 13-year-old son, I would not let him play football.”
MORE: NFL hot seat rankings: Um, it seems Giants' Ben McAdoo in serious jeopardy
MORE: 40 things to watch for in second half of 2017 NFL season
Costas spoke alongside USA TODAY Sports columnist Christine Brennan and ESPN’s Tony Kornheiser and Mike Wilbon at the university’s annual Shirley Povich Symposium, named after the late Washington Post sports columnist. The panel touched on a wide range of topics, including Jemele Hill’s suspension at ESPN and the ever-changing landscape of sports journalism, but the future of football became a recurring theme
Bob Costas on the future of football: 'This game destroys people's brains'
Long Live The Kane
Tyrant Titan
My son's not playing... It's damn near unconscionable to allow it when you really think about it
Wont be long before states classify it as child abuse for parents that let there boys play from age 5 to 15
