New book lays NFL's concussion scandal for all to see

RON JAWORSKI faded back to pass. Peered downfield waiting for a sliver of daylight between receiver and defender. Drifted right, still searching. Thousand-and-two, thousand-and-three, thousand-and-pow!

This was Oct. 26, 1980, against the Bears, at Veterans Stadium. Jaworski never saw Mike Hartenstine. Never heard him, never sensed him. In boxing, the punches that do the most damage are the ones you don't see coming.

Pow! Hartenstine speared Jaworski from behind, planting his helmet in the middle of the 7 on Jaworski's back. Jaworski's head bobbled violently, a classic scene of whiplash. Jaworski flopped, face-first, to that harsh Vet Stadium surface.

They lifted him onto that green John Deere cart and trundled him off the field. He was tougher than a $2.99 steak and he played the next week against Seattle, one more link in a streak that lasted 116 games.

"In those days," Jaworski said years later, "you came to the sideline seeing stars. They'd snap smelling salts under your nose, you went back in. There was no penalty on the hit."

No penalty on the hit, but a $1,000 fine for spearing that Hartenstine appealed. Pete Rozelle, the commissioner, judge, jury, rejected the appeal. Told Hartenstine he had hit Jaworski "too vigorously."

Now, Nick Foles wobbles to his feet in the Dallas game, his eyes glazed, and one of the officials sends him to the sideline. An independent neurologist examines him, bars him from playing again until he passes the imPACT test. imPACT; that stands for Immediate Post-Concussion Assessment and Cognitive Testing.

"Thirty-three years ago," Steve Fainaru said, "they valued toughness. You got your bell rung, you got dinged, you went to the sidelines. They held two fingers up in front of you and if you got that right, you went back in."

Fainaru and his brother, Mark Fainaru-Wada, have written an explosive book called "League of Denial." It is a search for truth and justice in the concussion-scandal swamp, digging for evidence to answer the questions, what did the NFL know, and when did it know it?

"Thirty-three years ago," Fainaru said, "there hadn't been too much written on concussions. And even less on concussions in sports."

Now we know that the first concussion makes a player vulnerable to a second concussion. Now we know that repeated concussions can cause brain damage and that brain damage can bring on dementia, Alzheimer's, crippling depression. And that depression can lead to suicide.

The breakthrough came in Pittsburgh when a pathologist named Bennett Omalu did an autopsy on Hall of Famer Mike Webster, who died at age 50 in 2002. Webster was broke, battered, sleeping in bus terminals, gulping handfuls of Ritalin, in an attempt to stay focused.

Webster was a warrior, a center. All those head-on hits had damaged his brain, evidenced by the ominous, brown clusters that showed up under the microscope. CTE, chronic traumatic encephalopathy.

"Commissioner Paul Tagliabue appointed a committee to study brain issues," Fainaru said. "Put a rheumatologist in charge. A rheumatologist in charge of a committee studying brain damage? And then it turned out, it was Tagliabue's personal physician."

The NFL's docs went into denial mode as more evidence surfaced.

"It is sad, but the damage is only revealed in postmortems," Fainaru said. That means someone has to die and the family has to offer the player's brain for study. So far, the number is 52.

Denial is grim enough. The NFL docs demeaned Omalu's methods, his conclusions. They muddied the waters by offering theories involving steroid abuse. They didn't want people tarnishing the shield, to use Roger Goodell's phrase.

It is a tough book, not for the squeamish. So far, the deserved praise has outweighed any hostility.

"We're not trying to kill the game," Fainaru said. "I love the game, I have season tickets to the 49ers. It's a great game, a uniquely American game."

And it is hazardous to the health of the people who play it. Now, and years from now. Read this book and you might never want to buy another NFL-sanctioned jersey or watch another wretched Thursday night game.