Peter King: MMQB - 5/9/17

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These are excerpts. To read the whole article click the link below.
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http://mmqb.si.com/mmqb/2017/05/08/jay-cutler-tv-nfl-quarterbacks-offseason-draft-peter-king

Jay Cutler and the Odd Offseason of QB Movement
With the sullen ex-Bear heading to TV, it’s a good time to reset how nonsensical the situations under center have become. Plus more draft fallout, an NBA GM talks football and the sad state of a ’72 Dolphins star
by Peter King

Friday capped the strangest quarterback off-season I can remember. That’s when Jay Cutler, a C-plus quarterback with four or five years left in him (or so we thought) surprised a quarterback-needy league by jumping to the Fox broadcast booth.

Not only is it downright weird to think of the perennially sour Cutler as some future aw-shucks Collinsworth. It’s weirder to think of the 34-year-old Cutler as not good enough to start anymore in the NFL. And weirder still to think of the employed and unemployed at the most important position in sports.

THEY’RE STARTING

Tom Savage, Houston. Six years ago, he lost the job at Rutgers. After Brock Osweiler flunked out, and after Tony Romo picked TV over football, and after the Texans passed on the acidic Cutler, Savage, with two career starts and zero career touchdown passes, will try to hold off first-round rookie Deshaun Watson through a medium-tough September (Jags, at Bengals, at Patriots).

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Tom Savage and Cody Kessler (left) will have starting quarterback jobs in 2017; Jay Cutler and Tony Romo will not
Photo: Getty Images (4)

Cody Kessler, Cleveland. The 2016 third-rounder showed promise last year, if you call not turning the ball over while going 0-8 “promise.” He should hold off rookie DeShone Kizer for a while, but such is life on the Browns quarterback depth chart that Kessler might not even be a Brown nine months from now.

Browns quarterback interlude

Cleveland’s QB depth chart in early May of recent seasons

2017: Cody Kessler, Kevin Hogan, DeShone Kizer, Brock Osweiler.
2016: Robert Griffin III, Josh McCown, Cody Kessler, Austin Davis, Connor Shaw, Pat Devlin.
2015: Josh McCown, Johnny Manziel, Thaddeus Lewis, Connor Shaw.

2014: Brian Hoyer, Johnny Manziel, Tyler Thigpen, Connor Shaw.
2013: Brandon Weeden, Jason Campbell, Thaddeus Lewis.

Five Mays. Fifteen different quarterbacks.

Mike Glennon, Chicago. He last started a game three years ago, and the Bears showed so much faith in him that they used four draft choices to move up to pick the rookie quarterback that GM Ryan Pace thinks will replace him, Mitchell Trubisky.

Brian Hoyer, San Francisco. After looking scared in a four-pick playoff embarrassment for Houston 16 months ago, Hoyer slightly redeemed himself in a five-start, 67-percent relief stint with the Bears last year. Still, he’s a Kyle Shanahan stopgap with the Niners.

Josh McCown, New York Jets. The stats don’t show it, but he’s a good quarterback to have on the roster, a team-first guy who might be best suited getting Bryce Petty or Christian Hackenberg ready to play. Whoever plays, the Jets will be in the quarterback market in 2018. All in, in fact.

THEY’RE NOT STARTING

Tony Romo. He knows he could have quarterbacked Houston if he wanted to. But he got a once-in-a-decade offer—walking off the field into a network’s top analyst job, for CBS—which sped his decision.

Jay Cutler. More below. The man with 134 more career passing yards than Kurt Warner and 14 more career touchdown passes than Ken Stabler drew scant interest from the only team that made sense—Houston. That probably told him everything. Cutler’s legacy will be that he underachieved (11 years, one playoff win) while being the most media-repellant quarterback of his era.

Colin Kaepernick. So Kaepernick has bought a place in downtown Manhattan and lives in the big city fairly anonymously. I spent a long draft weekend with the Niners in California, and there are those in the building who think Kaepernick might actually rather do social justice work full-time than play quarterback. He emerges in New York City occasionally for noble cause work, last week donating 100 men’s suits to a parole office in Queens, so recipients, recently out of prison, would look more presentable when going on job interviews.

I haven’t talked to Kaepernick, so I have no idea what his gut is telling him about what to do with his life. But it’s crazy that a quarterback who four years ago was coming off a Super Bowl appearance and looked to be a long-term answer has no team now and no hot NFL prospects that anyone can see.

If I were a pro scout or a GM with a starting or backup quarterback need, I’d be on a plane to New York to have lunch with Kaepernick to ask him where he sees his life going. And if he sees a football future, and if I had a great quarterback coach (Sean McVay with the Rams, Bruce Arians in Arizona), I’d sign him to an incentive-laden contract. Right now.

Robert Griffin III. He’s been unemployed for two months after the Browns cut him. The career of the 2012 Offensive Rookie of the Year is in more jeopardy than Kaepernick’s. Regardless of what he, his family or Washington owner Daniel Snyder thinks, Griffin’s biggest error was being the anti-Brady.

Instead of simply being willing to be coached hard by proven quarterback developers Mike and Kyle Shanahan (and I understand all the divisive tributaries that go along with that), Griffin and his family thought they knew best. The resulting wedge driven between him and his coaches, on top of the knee injury he suffered in the playoffs in January 2013, have been factors he hasn’t recovered from.

Texans Quarterback Interlude

Romo, Cutler, Kaepernick and Griffin have all played in the playoffs in the past six years. The Texans have engaged none in serious contract discussions this off-season.

Ryan Fitzpatrick. Not so stunning he’s on the street. But like McCown, he’s a smart, low-ego guy who’d be a good fit on a team developing a young quarterback.

Here’s the commonality I see: The five teams with weak or unproven starters (Browns, Jets, Texans, Bears, 49ers) all have coaches who want to do it their way—developing players they want to build around. Hue Jackson’s that way. Kyle Shanahan and Bill O’Brien too. And GMs Mike Maccagnan of the Jets and Ryan Pace of the Bears have made it clear they prefer to develop their quarterback of the future, either through the draft or by signing a young free-agent with a spotless record who is totally devoted to football.

Fair or unfair, Cutler’s got a reputation of being an island. When Hue Jackson coached Oakland, he wanted to draft Kaepernick but was trumped by the Niners; now Jackson has shown zero interest in Kaepernick. Coaches want team guys, and they want football devotees. Not all great quarterbacks have had those traits, but look at teams that were desperate for quarterbacks entering this off-season. Houston and Cleveland chose to draft college players with question marks.

Watson and Kizer, those teams figured, will be devoted to football, clay willing to be molded. We’ll see if those choices work. But if you’d told me three months ago the NFL would open 2017 with Romo, Cutler and Kaepernick in occupations other than football, I’d have been stunned.

* * *

On Jay Cutler Taking the Color Job with FOX

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Photo: Elsa/Getty Images

Quite a few thoughts, actually:

• Players who have been crappy with the media have gone to work for TV and been good at it. Sterling Sharpe, for one. You know why Sharpe was better than anyone thought he’d be? Because he didn’t care who he skewered, in part. As a player, Cutler had an acidic personality. He was a Negative Nate. But that doesn’t mean he’ll be bad at TV. It actually means he’s got a real chance to be good, if he works at it and stays true to his real opinions.

• What convinced Fox execs in the Cutler audition that he would be good enough to plug in for John Lynch on its number two NFL team? Sounds like it was two things, from the audition Cutler had in Los Angeles with play-by-play man Kevin Burkhardt two weeks ago, when they sat in a quiet room on the Fox lot and voiced-over the Arizona-Seattle game from Christmas Eve. “Just being conversational,” Burkhardt said Friday.

“Knowing when to talk and when to shut up. Some guys talk, talk, talk, talk. Jay said his piece and just stopped.” And being prescient, just watching the game. On one play, near the Arizona goal line, Cutler piped up that the pass play failed because Jermaine Kearse was supposed to “rub,” or legally screen, the defensive back, and he missed the rub, and the ball fell incomplete. “There was another play, Carson Palmer to J.J. Nelson for an 80-yard touchdown, that Jay made a great observation,” Burkhardt said. “As soon as they got to the line, Jay knew it.

He said Palmer used his eyes perfectly to move the safety and keep him away from where he wanted to throw. When we got to the last replay, there was a head-on shot of Palmer’s eyes, and then he looked left right at the snap, and Nelson was to the right, and Palmer held the safety there. Palmer threw the bomb and the safety couldn’t get back in time to make the play. Overall, he had some really cool minutiae. He was so conversational.”

• Could Cutler play again? Who knows. “It seemed to me he’s checked out of football emotionally,” Burkhardt said. It’s odd that he isn’t playing, to be sure, but think of this from Cutler’s perspective. He’s made $73 million in the last five years alone. He doesn’t need a big payday. And for much of his eight seasons in Chicago, he’s been beat up behind a shaky offensive line.

Imagine talking to the Jets, for instance, or even Houston, and playing again behind a porous offensive line. With the Jets, he had to be thinking: Okay, I’ll make good money, and I’ll lose, and I’ll get sacked a lot. (And, though I doubt he was thinking this, add in this P.S.: He’d get the crap ripped out of him on the back pages of the tabloids as long as the Jets lost.)

Why do that? Hard to think that would be a lot of fun, particularly considering you could make decent money sitting up in a booth—and maybe discovering a new vocation you actually might like.

• I didn’t know Cutler well, and hadn’t talked to him much since he was with the Bears. But I always thought he blew some good chances in getting to know some of the former quarterbacks who did his games. Troy Aikman, Dan Fouts, Phil Simms, Steve Beuerlein. Cutler used to view those production meetings as necessary evils instead of using them to draw knowledge out of those guys. Cutler was a little too smart for his own good.

• Thought the best game I ever saw Cutler play was on a Monday night in October 2011, when the mediocre Bears faced the then-unbeaten Lions in Detroit and Cutler, in a loss, played as valiantly as a quarterback could play. The Detroit front seven (Ndamukong Suh, Nick Fairley, Kyle Vanden Bosch, Cliff Avril, Lawrence Jackson, etc.) must have hit him 20 times that night.

He had not a moment’s peace. But he completed 28 of 38 passes, threw no picks, and hung in against the most brutal of rushes. Chicago lost, but I thought that was the game of games in a career that had more disappointment than success.

• Eleven seasons, one playoff victory. He had some great moments, and too often we think quarterbacks can lift teams by themselves. But they can’t. However, one playoff win is one playoff win. I expected more out of Cutler when I first saw him play in Denver a decade ago.

* * *

Draft Leftovers

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The Titans started a wide receiver run when they made Corey Davis the No. 5 overall pick. Two more were gone in the next four picks
Photo: Elsa/Getty Images


• Every year there are some players with injury questions, and some players ruled undraftable due to injury concerns. There were many this year, and most teams pushed two Alabama players (defensive lineman Jonathan Allen, linebacker Reuben Foster) down the draft board because of shoulder issues. I’ll preface this by saying in 1980 the Cincinnati Bengals drafted USC tackle Anthony Muñoz third overall despite the fact that an injured knee caused 14 NFL teams to flunk him on his physical.

Muñoz became one of the great offensive linemen of all time. Before the draft, one smart scout told me his team wouldn’t draft Foster; the team feared his postseason rotator-cuff surgery would have to be re-done. The Niners, before Foster’s medical re-check with the team, labeled him a 2-minus on their medical scale, meaning they had concerns requiring another examination. After that examination, team physical Dr. Timothy McAdams and the Niners were satisfied with Foster’s healing, GM John Lynch said, and the medical grade was changed to a 2-plus.

“He’ll be fine for training camp,” Lynch said. “We feel as strong as ever about his health, and really, we’ve never wavered. Our medical people are confident in him.” Foster’s shoulder will be monitored as closely as any injury entering training camp, because of everything said about it before the draft and since.

• Many in the league were stunned to see Western Michigan receiver Corey Davis go as high as the fifth pick, where Tennessee took him. We’ll see if that ends up working out for the Titans. But with the draft riches he’s accumulated, and knowing wide receiver was his top priority, GM Jon Robinson figured it was smarter to take his top wideout at five rather than risk missing on the top three before he had a chance to make another pick.

Sure enough, Mike Williams went to the Chargers at seven and John Ross to Cincinnati at nine. And there was the run of the top three wideouts, finished in the first nine picks.

• Arizona and San Francisco and the Jets (and perhaps Cleveland, depending on the rookie season of DeShone Kizer) pushed off their quarterback-of-the-future choices until 2018, when vets Kirk Cousins of Washington and Jimmy Garappolo of New England could be free agents, and the college crop of passers could be better than this year. I like that.

• I covered the New York Giants in the ’80s and wrote about first-round draft pick George Adams, a running back from Kentucky who struggled because of a hip injury for much of his career. He wore number 33. His son, LSU safety Jamal Adams, got drafted by the cross-stadium New York Jets, also in the first round, this year. Jamal’s number with the Jets: 33. “It’s always been a family number,” Jamal Adams said.

• Applause to the Browns, for closing ranks in the first round and keeping alive the perception that they might trade from 12 to two to pick up North Carolina quarterback Mitchell Trubisky. That, in part, forced the Bears, who wanted Trubisky badly, to deal from three to two and throw in a third draft choice to assure they’d get their man. The Browns at times have been a leaky sieve during drafts. Not this time.

• I repeat: As I pointed out in my column inside the 49ers draft room last Monday, most often when a team gets on the clock during the draft, the other 31 teams don’t know which player that team is going to choose. So it’s easy to kill the Bears for trading three picks to move one spot. Easy, and short-sighted.

• The Jags fell into left tackle Cam Robinson with the 34th pick, and I make him the favorite to beat out Branden Albert (who’s not been at Jacksonville’s offseason program) for the starting left tackle job. Tom Coughlin’s not a big fan of wildcat-strikers.

• Underplayed story of the draft: Seattle drafting a corner (Shaquill Griffin) and three safeties (Delano Hill, Tedric Thompson, Mike Tyson), respectively, at 90, 95, 111 and 187 overall, a clarion call to the not-as-young-as-they-used-to-be back end of the defense—Earl Thomas (age 28), Kam Chancellor (29) and Richard Sherman (29).

* * *

The 1972 Dolphins Are Crumbling

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Nick Buoniconti still looks sharp in public appearances, but his doctors believe his Dolphins playing days have taken a major toll on his health
Photo: Getty Images (2)


This week in Sports Illustrated, the magazine is running a story that will really move you, and I wanted to bring you a taste of that story here; The MMQB will run it in its entirety on Tuesday, plus a sort of spinoff tale on Wednesday. You’ve read before about the cracks in the NFL veneer, the old vets, so many of them in a bad state. But what writer Scott Price found is a really punishing story about the man at the heart of the defense for the revered, undefeated 1972 Dolphins.

Nick Buoniconti is now 76, and his body is just completely falling apart, to the point where something like putting on a T-shirt is not just complicated—it’s near impossible. Nick and his wife, Lynn, shared a video with The MMQB, and you can take a look below at just where this old Hall of Famer is today.

Here’s what’s different: This story isn’t
Nick Buoniconti has CTE. We’re not at that point yet with the science. This is, Nick Buoniconti’s doctors know something is really wrong with his brain…but no one can tell him anything definitively, and that’s a terrifying place for anyone.

What’s even scarier: Nick brought that story to SI, and when Scott started looking around that revered team he found more of the same. We’ll get to Jim Kiick (the running back who scored every rushing touchdown for Miami in that ’72 postseason) on Wednesday, but first here’s an excerpt of the Buoniconti story, which we’ll give you in full at The MMQB on Tuesday.


“Teddy!” Nick Buoniconti yells across the lobby of The Inn at Spanish Bay, near Pebble Beach.

It is a November Sunday in 2016, past twilight. The Hall of Fame linebacker, 75, but only slightly bent, is sitting with his wife, Lynn, at a polished table. The fresh faces behind the front desk don’t know Buoniconti; it has been 44 years since he co-captained the Dolphins to three straight Super Bowl seasons. He’s not alone: Nearly two dozen greats from the ’70s, ’80s and ’90s are here, wandering through the lobby toward the Grand Ballroom for the 26th annual Legends Invitational dinner.

In the next few hours a roster of venerables will pass through—Paul Warfield, Jan Stenerud, Jim Hart—and each will utter a small shock at being remembered at all. This will at first seem odd, but it makes sense once they speak of how they missed out on free agency, or spent years fighting the league for better pensions, or are scrambling now to hack through the thicket of the NFL’s $1 billion concussion lawsuit settlement.

“Teddy!” Buoniconti yells again, and over comes Ted Hendricks, 69, along with his longtime partner, Linda Babl. Hendricks, the 6’7” linebacker, played 15 years in the NFL, partied epically and never missed a game. Nick and Lynn stand.

“How are you doing, Teddy?” Lynn asks.

“Good,” says Ted, grinning. At that, Buoniconti unleashes a deep sigh, one so operatic that at first it seems involuntary; but later, after spending hours with him, one comes to know it as his fallback signal of dismay and, quite often, a looming explosion. Linda’s head pivots.

“How’ve you been?” she says.

Buoniconti doesn’t explain that he can’t figure out how to knot a tie or towel his back. He doesn’t speak of his increasingly useless left hand, the increasingly frequent trips to the emergency room or how, just a few days earlier, he hurtled backwards down a staircase and sprayed blood all over the hardwood, screaming afterward at Lynn, “I should just kill myself! It doesn’t matter!”

“You know,” Buoniconti says.

And he’s right. Like most everyone who’s close to a former NFL player, Linda is living some variation of the same story. They’ve all seen the big-budget concussion movie and the news clips; they’ve read about the deaths of Junior Seau and Dave Duerson; they’re comparing notes on Facebook about the damage caused by repeated head trauma. They study their men. They accompany them to brain studies and name-drop superstar CTE researchers.

“We went to see Dr. [Julian] Bailes last month,” Linda says. “He’s really impressive, as far as one-to-one.”

Buoniconti releases another sigh.

It’s so random. Hendricks has only minor memory lapses. Some of Buoniconti’s Dolphins teammates, meanwhile, are crumbling. Quarterback Earl Morrall, the supersub so key to the Perfect Season, died at 79, in 2014, with Stage 4 CTE. Running back Jim Kiick, 70, lived in squalor until he was put in an assisted care facility last summer with dementia/early onset Alzheimer’s. Bill Stanfill, a defensive end who long suffered from dementia, died in November at 69.

“Everybody’s searching,” Buoniconti says, dropping his voice. “Some go to North Carolina, some to BU, some to UCLA. And it’s all related. That’s why it’s so unnecessary, what the NFL is putting the players through by making us document the neurological deficiencies. Not everybody can afford to go through that. And they say they’ll pay for it—but do you know what that’s like, actually getting the money?”

Ted and Linda leave for the ballroom. Nick and Lynn sit. Hall of Fame Vikings defensive end Chris Doleman stops by. He talks about how even the most familiar routines have become confounding, how he wakes up in his own bed wondering, Am I in a hotel? “And I’m 55,” he says.

“At 55 I was very normal,” Buoniconti says. “I’m not normal anymore.”

This is hard, at times, to believe. Everyone tells Nick he looks “great.” Indeed, he’ll soon get up before a packed ballroom and emcee the night’s program, tick off the names of every co-host, sponsor and speaker, tell war stories.

But few saw Buoniconti teeter as he walked off the stage, perhaps because of the atrophy to his right frontal cortex. Fewer noticed Nick motioning for Lynn as he bolted from the ballroom, perhaps because of his neurodegenerative dementia—or the yet-unspoken opinion that his condition could actually be corticobasal syndrome, complicated by an atypical Parkinsonian Syndrome or CTE or Alzheimer’s. He had to pee. And Lynn had to stand by to unbutton and unzip him and ensure that he’d emerge from the men’s room dry and unexposed.

And no one here saw him before all that, when Buoniconti stood up in the hotel lobby and headed toward the ballroom. “I feel lost,” he said. “I feel like a child.”

The full version of Price’s story on Buoniconti is here at this link...
http://mmqb.si.com/mmqb/2017/05/08/...cognitive-decline-nfl-head-trauma-concussions

* * *

Three Post-Draft Questions for Gil Brandt

Brandt has been involved with the NFL draft since 1960, as a young pup with the Dallas Cowboys. Now, traipsing from combine to pro day to pro day to the draft, he gathers information from every team in the game, and herds the top prospects around at the draft.

MMQB: Pretty surprising draft. What surprised you the most?

Brandt: Nothing. Actually, no surprises to me. Two weeks before the draft, I knew there would be a bunch of picks that would shock people. I said then that the eighth pick in this draft could be someone else’s 50th-ranked player, and the 50th player for another team could be your eighth guy.

MMQB: Do you think the Bears made a bad trade, dealing two threes and a four to move up one spot for Mitchell Trubisky in the first round?

Brandt: No. Everyone has what-ifs in every draft. I’m not sure San Francisco didn’t play blind man’s bluff a little bit, but whatever they did, Chicago couldn’t know exactly what was going to happen if they don’t move up to two. I think the Bears were concerned Cleveland had all that ammunition and could move up.

Plus, the agent [for Trubisky] was making it clear he knew his guy would go second. I understand what [Chicago GM] Ryan Pace went through. If you’re not proactive in this league, you die. Without a quarterback, you can’t win. The thing about everybody saying Chicago made a bad move … all those people, if they’re wrong, we’ll never see a retraction. And no one knows now whether it’s a good move or bad move.

MMQB: It seemed like Dallas was the favorite to host the 2018 draft until the league saw the job Philadelphia did. You live in Dallas. You love Dallas. Thoughts on where the draft will be next year?

Brandt: As much as I want the draft to come to Dallas, it’s going to be very hard for Philadelphia to lose the draft after the job that city did. Unbelievable. Just unbelievable. That city did a job that was off the charts. And the fans were so great—100,000 people that one day, and I bet there were 99,999 different jerseys, with fans from everywhere.

* * *

• San Francisco CEO Jed York, on whether he regrets not signing Jim Harbaugh to a contract extension before their ugly divorce:

“We tried a lot of times to get an extension done with Jim, and for whatever reason those didn’t culminate. And, ultimately, as successful as it was here, I think Jim is very happy, and he’s doing an unbelievable job at Michigan. We obviously didn’t have success after Jim left. I don’t know that we’d be sitting here with John Lynch and Kyle Shanahan if something happened. And I don’t know if it would have worked long-term if we did get something done.

I regret how we performed the last two years. I regret how the relationship was frayed between me and a coach that did a lot of great things for this franchise. And I actually talked to his brother [Ravens head coach] John [Harbaugh] briefly at the owner’s meetings, and he said, ‘You know, you guys need to get together sometime and have dinner.’ And I said, ‘I’d love to do that.’ I’d love to get together. And I think enough time has kind of passed where you can let whatever issues that were there be buried and just truly be thankful for three great years.

When nobody expected us, certainly in 2011, to beat the Saints the way we did. To get close and be two muffed punts away from going to a Super Bowl in ’11. And just all the things that happened. You know, I’d love to sit down with Jim. Not in front of cameras, not in front of anybody else, but just share an evening with him and truly say thank you. And wish him the best of luck.”

* * *

Things I Think I Think

1. I think we’re left to wonder what-if with Jay Cutler. A lot.

2. I think this is the first what-if: What if he’d signed with Houston, and hands-on quarterback coach Bill O’Brien, this off-season? One of the things about Cutler I’ll miss is the last act of his NFL career—I was pretty sure there would be one, and now it seems unlikely.

Had he gone to Houston, for instance, we’d have been able to see him with good receivers and buttressed by a top-three NFL defense; he wouldn’t have had to be bombs-away Cutler to have a chance to win. I’d have loved to see him play with O’Brien. They’d have butted heads a few time, for sure, but O’Brien would have liked Cutler’s attitude and toughness.

A decade ago I was working on an assignment for Sports Illustrated before Cutler’s first starting season in Denver (after a rookie year in which he’d played some), and Mike Shanahan, his coach, told me this: “Jay thinks he’s just good, but he’s better than good. As time goes on, I think he’ll be great. You know why? He’s not afraid to stand in there and make plays and throw it downfield.

Some quarterbacks, not mentioning names, want to dump it all the time rather than look downfield because the pressure of the game is so great or because they want to protect their quarterback rating. The guys who have confidence, who really believe in themselves, want to be Elway. You can teach a guy to dump the ball off. You can’t teach a Vanderbilt guy to be the MVP of the SEC, which Jay was. He’s got to have something inside him to accomplish that.” That guy was still there. Is still there.

3. I think this is the second what-if: I always will think that Cutler unnecessarily picked a fight with rookie coach Josh McDaniels in 2009 that got him traded from Denver to Chicago. Stupid move by Cutler—even in retrospect, dissing owner Pat Bowlen at the time, and even though McDaniels made some huge mistakes in his ill-fated tenure.

What if Cutler stayed in Denver, and been willing to be coached by McDaniels the way Tom Brady has been willing to be coached by McDaniels? Cutler’s career in Denver could have changed drastically.

4. I think I just realized something about all the ESPN layoffs, thinking about my football Sunday: Do not, I repeat do not, tell me that the “NFL Matchup” show is in danger. That is the one staple to my Sunday morning that I simply cannot do without.

Smart football, put into words the average fan can understand, by really smart and likeable football people—Ron Jaworski, Merril Hoge, Sal Paolantonio. I love that show. It educates without talking down to people. It is a vital part of my football week. ESPN: It must stay. It simply must stay.

5. I think Christian McCaffrey made a few positive impressions at the Panthers’ rookie camp, particularly when he was split wide and ran efficient and fast routes. One impression came after he signed his rookie contract, with $10.7 million in signing bonuses, meaning, if he handles life right, he’ll have some form of security for the rest of his life.

“He celebrated by going to bed,” Joe Person of the Charlotte Observer reported. Said McCaffrey: “I signed, tried to get some sleep to get ready for [practice]. Never get comfortable.”

6. I think Phil Simms has handled his demotion a lot better than I’d handle mine.

7. I think this was the most interesting statement I have heard in the past week. It came from Gil Brandt, when we were talking about the 49ers’ draft, and I asked him about Alabama linebacker Reuben Foster, selected 31st overall by the Niners. “Foster’s the most competitive linebacker I’ve seen come out of the draft since Jack Lambert,” said Brandt, who has studied 58 drafts.
 

Elmgrovegnome

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Brandt makes good points on the Bears trading picks to get Trubiskey....they just so happen to be the same points I made. Maybe that is why I liked them so much:sneaky:
 

DaveFan'51

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If I were a pro scout or a GM with a starting or backup quarterback need, I’d be on a plane to New York to have lunch with Kaepernick to ask him where he sees his life going. And if he sees a football future, and if I had a great quarterback coach (Sean McVay with the Rams, Bruce Arians in Arizona), I’d sign him to an incentive-laden contract. Right now.
And IF McVay where to follow this advice, I would get extremely Ill!!:headexplosion::puke:
 

Mikey Ram

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Don't want to make a new thread because when I do it usually has already been noted...I read that Chris Berman's wife has been killed in a automobile acccident...I certainly send my condolences...Obviouly matters not what you might think of someone, you certainly feel for them in a time like this...
 

LACHAMP46

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Colin Kaepernick. So Kaepernick has bought a place in downtown Manhattan and lives in the big city fairly anonymously. I spent a long draft weekend with the Niners in California, and there are those in the building who think Kaepernick might actually rather do social justice work full-time than play quarterback.
Sounds like a cover for being blackballed. Sounds like PK is the instrument to deliver the blackballed message. To tell us readers...guy really doesn't wanna play football. One protest...and 32 owners don't want you around....and oh yeah, any of you others thinking about trying this shit....

My dad was born in Miami and was a huge Dolphin fan...Loved Kick, Csonka, and Warfield.....so was his mom. Didn't like Griese that much. It's a shame that medical care is all about the money....and the NFL isn't looking out for these old warriors better...If this is supposed to be the well taken care of vets of the game...I can imagine that many are worse off.
 

Dan Poplawski

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I thought you had to have personality to do color on TV? Cutler has the personality of a hammer.

My thoughts go out to the Berman family, tragic.
 

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Don't want to make a new thread because when I do it usually has already been noted...I read that Chris Berman's wife has been killed in a automobile acccident...I certainly send my condolences...Obviouly matters not what you might think of someone, you certainly feel for them in a time like this...

http://www.espn.com/espn/story/_/id...wife-espn-icon-chris-berman-dies-car-accident

Kathy Berman, the wife of longtime ESPN broadcaster Chris Berman, died Tuesday in a car accident in rural Connecticut.

Kathy Berman was killed in a two-car crash near Woodbury, Connecticut. Berman, a teacher, was married to Chris for more than 33 years and had two children, Meredith and Douglas. She was 67.

The driver of the other car, Edward Bertulis, of Waterbury, Connecticut, also died in the accident. He was 87.
 

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Sounds like a cover for being blackballed. Sounds like PK is the instrument to deliver the blackballed message. To tell us readers...guy really doesn't wanna play football. One protest...and 32 owners don't want you around....and oh yeah, any of you others thinking about trying this crap....

Obviously, at least to me, there is collusion around the league, to keep CK from getting hired due to the potential of alienating more viewers and ticket buyers. There are fans who like their sports not being soiled by politics and social issues.

Once QB's start going down during the pre-season/season and CK is still not signed, then definitely something is going on. The guy could at least be signed to be a back-up.

My dad was born in Miami and was a huge Dolphin fan...Loved Kick, Csonka, and Warfield.....so was his mom. Didn't like Griese that much. It's a shame that medical care is all about the money....and the NFL isn't looking out for these old warriors better...If this is supposed to be the well taken care of vets of the game...I can imagine that many are worse off.

http://mmqb.si.com/mmqb/2017/05/09/jim-kiick-miami-dolphins-nfl-concussion-lawsuit-assisted-living

How Jim Kiick Fell Through the Cracks
The devastation the former Dolphin’s family feels as it watches his gut-wrenching decline is matched by the frustration and confusion they’ve experienced in trying to get him the care he needs
by S.L. Price

alli-jim-austin-kiick.jpg

Allie, Jim and Austin Kiick
Photo: Courtesy of Allie Kiick


If this were the typical comeback tale, Allie Kiick’s plague years would be all behind her. She’s been hitting tennis balls for a month now, and this spring she’s scheduled to play her first pro tournament since 2015. Given a few wins, a few painless months, the 21-year old South Florida native could then speak of her career-devastating ailments in the past tense, and the usual narrative would take hold. As in, she “overcame” mononucleosis and two surgeries on each knee, and “beat” stage I melanoma. As in, that chapter is done.

“It’s been devastating,” Allie says. “When I do something great—which, back in the day, he’d be just so proud about—I don’t even bother calling after. And when I do call to check up on him, he calls me—I kid you not—probably 30, 40 times after if I don’t pick up the phone. He just keeps calling and calling and calling, to the point where, at night, I actually have to block him from my phone because he’ll call at 3 in the morning. He just doesn’t know any better.

“When people ask how is he doing—because of the NFL [concussion] lawsuit—I just say, ‘He’s fine.’ But I tell my close friends, ‘I lost my dad at 21 years old.’ I love him to death, and I’m so proud of him and everything he’s accomplished—and I just wanted him to be really proud of me, too. But he just won’t ever understand, I guess.”

* * *

Both Austin Kiick, Jim’s son and the point man for his father’s care, and Jim Kiick himself confirm that Jim has registered for a payout from the NFL’s $1 billion concussion settlement. Following its formula, Austin says, his father’s diagnosis of dementia/early-onset Alzheimer’s disease could result in a payout as high as $620,000.

But the Kiick family’s eight-year journey to a resolution has been confusing, costly and representative of the many retired players who are traversing the league’s still-evolving landscape of football and traumatic brain injury.

“It’s been a very disappointing process to go through—to even get some kind of information,” says Austin Kiick, 28, of his dealings with the NFL. “You get bounced around to different people, and nobody knows what’s going on or who you can contact, and they say they’ll get back to you and never do.

I didn’t expect how harsh it would be. I figured I’d be dealing with a huge organization—$14 billion a year and they were non-profit, mind you—basically fighting city hall. But I didn’t think it would be as difficult as it has been.”

jim-kiick-super-bowl-viii-touchdown.jpg

Kiick scored the only rushing touchdown for Miami in Super Bowl VII, the victory that capped the Dolphins’ perfect season
Photo: Kidwiler Collection/Diamond Images/Getty Images

Unlike Nick Buoniconti, his teammate on the 1972 Dolphins’ Perfect Team and who now is showing signs of cognitive impairment, Kiick never generated the kind of wealth necessary for in-home assistance, a personal driver, experimental tests or instantaneous access to top-line medical care. As a rookie, Jim made $17,600.

His richest payday, in the mid-’70s with the World Football League, guaranteed $700,000 over three years. Divorced from Allie and Austin’s mother, Mary, since 2000, Jim lived alone in Davie, Fla.—i.e., with no on-site partner to gauge his symptoms, track medical appointments or monitor his use of pain-killers and prescription medications. And solitude was never his strong suit.

Indeed, in a game built upon the exploits of individual stars, Kiick is one of the few famous names in NFL history forever joined with another. For his first four years with the Dolphins, he and fullback Larry Csonka proved so inseparable—jovially sharing hotel rooms, drinks, wins and even contract holdouts—that dubbing the duo with the prototypical buddy-movie nickname, “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” seemed only right.

Then, during Miami’s undefeated run in ’72, Kiick was forced to share playing time—and his place in history—with the speedier Mercury Morris. When, in 1974, Kiick, Csonka and Dolphins receiver Paul Warfield shocked the NFL by together announcing that they were defecting to the startup WFL, that, too, felt apt. Kiick’s whole career was a package deal.

Of course, the punishment he took in football was his alone. The son of Pittsburgh Steelers fullback and World War II Silver Star honoree George Kiick, Jim missed just one game in his nine-year pro career. Wielding a Swiss Army skill set that was easy to praise but harder to value, he combined for 1,000 yards rushing and receiving in each of his first four seasons, and played one Sunday despite a hip pointer, a pulled ankle tendon, a punctured elbow, a crushed big toe and a broken finger.

Kiick was so tough and skilled a blocker, in fact, that Dolphins coach Don Shula reversed backfield logic and often sent the 5'11" Kiick to clear a path—like a Jeep before a Sherman tank—for the burlier, 6’4” Csonka.

paul-warfield-jim-kiick-larry-csonka-wfl-announcement-1974.jpg

Dolphins stars Warfield, Kiick and Csonka shocked the NFL in 1974 by signing with the upstart World Football League
Photo: Erin Combs/Toronto Star via Getty Images

“I had many, many discussions with Coach Shula, arguing, ‘I don’t understand why a guy at 215 is blocking for a guy at 240,’ ” says Jim Kiick, whose long-term memory remains fairly sound. “He gave me a dirty look and said, ‘Just get back in there.’

“I got dizzy, got dinged a few times. You’d come to the sidelines and they’d ask, ‘How many fingers have I got up?’ And you’d say four or three or whatever, and they’d say, ‘Close enough.’ We were playing because we enjoyed the game. We were too naïve to realize that, in the future years, this could affect us, our life, the brains. We just went back in and got dinged again.”

* * *

Kiick’s what-the-hell attitude—capped, back in the day, by tumbleweed hair and a cowpoke mustache—is one reason he remains beloved in South Florida. Another is that, after being supplanted by Morris, he still provided the winning margins that sealed the Perfect Season in ’72, scoring Miami’s sole rushing touchdowns in the two playoff games and Super Bowl VII. After that, anticlimax: The WFL quickly folded, a two-year NFL comeback dribbled away, his first marriage crumbled.

After returning to Fort Lauderdale, Kiick drifted through promotional work, tried representing players, ran through much of his football earnings, got married again—to Mary, 17 years his junior, in 1986—and had Austin. In 1989, Jim finally settled into his second act, as an investigator for the Broward County public defender’s office. After he and Mary split, she got remarried, to physician Curtis Johnson, who raised Austin and Allie as his own, bankrolling Allie’s burgeoning tennis career.

Jim stayed on the edges, unschooled in tennis’s quieter mores, nervous and loud. He groaned audibly when Allie played, yelled instructions or worse. (“I can’t believe I’m paying for tennis lessons,” Allie once heard him say as she was double-faulting away a match, “when she can’t even make a serve!”) By the time she won the Orange Bowl 16-and-under title in 2010, Allie had all but banished her dad from the stands.

“Oh, God,” she says. “We argued all the time in tennis. He would say something and it would make me mad so I’d say something back, which would made him mad; it was just a vicious cycle the entire match. He had that football mentality, and I’m this 13-, 14-year-old who’s losing, and I’ve got his temper, unfortunately. I’m just like him in every way.”

She also picked up on the tennis scuttlebutt: People figured that having a pro football star for a dad meant plenty of funds, an enviable support system. They didn’t know the reality. “People have no idea what we’re going through with my dad,” she says. “For the past four or five years, I really haven’t had a father.”

That’s a big reason why, when American pro Nicole Gibbs tweeted out last September, “cannot stand watching these guys bash their brains on the field. Love football but at what point is the cost not worth it,” Allie decided to go public with her father’s travails.

“Coming from a daughter of a former football player who suffers from dementia and is deteriorating,” Allie tweeted, “It’s not worth it.”

Austin first noticed a change eight years ago. A 2007 graduate of St. Thomas Aquinas High in Fort Lauderdale, where he played defensive back, he had been living off and on with Jim—then 62, and all his life a neat-freak—in Davie. The cramped apartment grew shabbier. Appointments went unkept; Jim’s personal hygiene dissolved. Austin drove him to doctor’s appointments, set up his daily pills for irregular heartbeat, blood thinners, but soon noticed that the meds were disappearing too fast.

Then there was the time Jim left his 16-year-old daughter in a Barnes & Noble and never came back. By the time he called Mary to ask “Do you know where Allie is?” Jim had forgotten altogether that she was staying with him.

Though divorced, Jim and Mary, a former top-line softball player and retired pharmaceutical representative, had remained on decent terms, and she and her second husband began keeping closer tabs on her first. Johnson recommended a neurologist; in 2011, after a battery of MRIs and CT scans revealed brain lesions, Kiick was diagnosed with dementia/early-onset Alzheimer’s and suspected chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE, for now, can only be diagnosed with certainty posthumously; it has been found in numerous deceased NFL players).

Austin’s drop-bys kept expanding; by 22 he had stopped working, dropped out of college, to become his dad’s caretaker. He suffered anxiety attacks and depression. “I kept trying to hide it from the world,” Austin says. “He was my hero, my idol. I played football because of him.”

Money issues didn’t help. Together Kiick’s monthly pension from the NFL ($1,800) and the State of Florida added up to $3,150, and after age 65 he received Medicare. But rent was $1,250, and Austin and Mary say a girlfriend of Jim’s drained some $12,000 out of his savings. Kiick’s Perfect Season ring went missing.

Mail from collection agencies kept mounting; Austin tapped his grandmother and other relatives for funds. Jim’s ankles ballooned from congestive heart failure, and he was eating Advil like jelly beans because he kept forgetting that he’d just taken them. Austin would throw out the bottle, and the next day there’d be another in its place, two-thirds full.

jim-kiick-orange-bowl-last-game-january-2008.jpg

Kiick carrying the ball in a celebrity game at the final event in the Orange Bowl, 2008
Photo: Eliot J. Schechter/Getty Images

The NFL and the Players Association do have numerous outreach programs for former players. A foundation called NFL Player Care was set up in 2007 to provide financial assistance and health care; according to Belinda Lerner, NFL Player Care foundation executive director, it has funneled more than $12 million to 980 former players in financial need and contributed $6.6 million to medical research studies.

In 2010 the NFL added a neurological care program to evaluate and treat “possible” conditions for vested retirees. Problem is, Jim knew none of that—and Austin was flying blind.

“I’ve had zero contact with the NFLPA,” he says. “As far as speaking direct to an NFL employee, that has not happened.”

“There is help out there,” says Merle Wilcox, one of the NFL wives and widows who in 2015 signed a public letter holding the NFL responsible for “the deplorable living conditions” of many retirees who played before 1993. “You just have to go through all these hoops and figure it out. But that’s just it: They shouldn’t have to go through hoops to get it figured out.”

With an estimated 20,000 NFL alumni scattered nationwide—some off the grid and some like Kiick, whose mailings from the NFL often went unopened or got buried beneath his home’s expanding disarray—it’s easy to see how ex-players can fall through the cracks. “This is a challenge we recognize, and we’ve been trying to deal with it,” Lerner says.

“But we do try to tell them. We have had websites available to provide them with whatever benefits they have, with descriptions of how they work. But recognizing that often doesn’t always happen, we’re trying to use more methods to do better outreach and simplify the process so that players will be able access it and it won’t seem so overwhelming.”

Finally Mary did some research. In 2012 she called Nat Moore, Jim’s ex-teammate and now a Dolphins vice-president in charge of alumni relations, to inquire about the “88 Plan”—founded in 2007 and jointly run by the NFL and the Players Association—which provided up to $50,000 for in-home care and $88,000 for institutional care annually (since raised to $118,000 and $130,000, respectively) for ex-players afflicted with dementia, ALS or Parkinson’s.

Austin, now vested with Jim’s power of attorney, had had no idea about the program. He gathered all of his father’s test results, filled out the paperwork and filed. Six months passed, and the claim was rejected: Kiick had not been evaluated by a NFL-approved neurologist.

Austin tried arguing, hired a lawyer to appeal and sent Jim to a neurologist on the NFL list, Dr. David B. Ross, medical director of the Comprehensive Neurobehavioral Institute in Plantation, Fla. His diagnosis: Near definite CTE, leading to dementia, “with probable Alzheimer's variant”—i.e., a form of Alzheimer’s likely caused by CTE due to countless blows to the head.

“His imaging tests show that he’s suffered concussion trauma,” Ross says. “I’ve dealt with a few football players and other sports people, and most of the time you don’t see clear evidence of traumatic brain injury because it’s usually microscopic. Jim actually had signs of contusion: bruises.

You can see it clearly: It’s called ‘encephalomalacia’—wasting or hardening; there are areas of the brain where there are gaps, and that’s where a specific brain injury occurred. It’s the stuff you see after significant localized head trauma or stroke.

“He has holes in his brain. Earlier in his career he had enough impact that he had bruises on his brain that left scars and holes. So there’s no question that he suffered significant brain trauma. This is more than Alzheimer’s. This is more than frontal-lobe dementia, Parkinson’s dementia. This is more than infection. He had brain trauma, and that’s unequivocal.”

Austin re-filed for the 88 Plan and, after another six months, in late 2013 received approval. The NFL would have reimbursed the family retroactively, but Austin hadn’t kept the required paperwork and receipts. The Kiicks got a small amount of money back for some prescriptions, but thousands of dollars in medical bills and attorneys’ fees over the previous two years were gone.

* * *

Allie had been absent for months, then, as she rose in the tennis rankings; after her return from Europe in the summer of 2014 she was stunned by her dad’s decline. “I just remember seeing the biggest change in him,” she says. “He just acts like a kid, in every way now—not taking care of himself. We tell him what to do and he listens, but he was pooping his pants, all that stuff. So I—literally—mean that he had turned into a kid.”

And their troubles were hardly over. Austin tried handling Jim’s care himself; it seemed impossible that an in-home nurse would work in the moldy horror of Jim’s apartment. Then Jim overdosed on Coumadin, his blood thinner medication, and in mid-2015 Austin waved the white flag. Mary’s mother fronted a $2,500 deposit for a spot for Jim in a soon-to-open assisted care facility.

Construction delays pushed the opening into 2016, and by then Jim was constantly losing his ATM cards, demanding odd repairs to his car. Tipped off, state health officials inspected his apartment, declared it unlivable—and Jim too unstable to live alone.

But the new facility still hadn’t opened, so Austin kept stalling. Jim got worse. In July 2016, heart failure sent him to the hospital; a social worker refused to let him return to his apartment’s sty-like conditions. Mary worked a connection at another assisted living facility, and after two weeks there of phoning his kids, begging to be taken out of the place, Jim forgot his old home. Ross is trying to get Kiick qualified for a federally funded brain study program in Fort Lauderdale.

jim-kiick-larry-csonka-2002-michael-oneil.jpg

Larry Csonka and Jim Kiick, photographed for Sports Illustrated in 2002
Photo: Michael O'Neill for Sports Illustrated

Allie says her father doesn’t know he has dementia. Visitors—Mercury Morris has been by—say that he has good days and bad. During an April phone call, Kiick said, “I have no problem, fortunately. I still go to the gym three times a week, and my memory’s fine.” He couldn’t say, however, who put him in the facility or why he was there, or recall the name of Allie’s coach of six years, Harold Solomon.

“It’s ironic: Me playing football that long and never having problems with my knees and she’s had operations on both knees,” he said. “She was out for a while, and now she’s back training. I always believed pain was just something in your head.”

Overall her dad seems happier now, though each visit produces new obsessions. Sometimes it’s the phone, or his Super Bowl rings, or food. “He’s put on a lot of weight because he eats and then forgets that he ate,” Allie says. “He’ll say, ‘I’m starving, I never eat, they never feed me. …’ He’ll just be done with his meal—and full—but literally every minute, he’ll say that he’s hungry—the whole time that you stay with him.”

It isn’t easy, in moments like that, to recall good times. Allie has one: She was six, playing in a game of flag football, and flung a pass so far, so perfectly, that Jim couldn’t stop crowing. But in truth there’s no need to go back that far. Solomon calls Allie “Jim” whenever her temper flares, and she pretends to dislike it but doesn’t. Because then he’s right there with her. Because maybe her dad’s legacy should be a fresh bit of rage.

Retired NFL Players seeking guidance on benefits, disability, medical resources, grants, and outreach programs like the 88 Plan can call 1-800-635-4625 or go to www.mygoalline.com.





 

LACHAMP46

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Wow...that's terrible. I thought the pension for players that played over 5-8 years was $16,000 every two weeks? I read OJ Simpson gets a pension check every two weeks for $16K?????
Kiick’s monthly pension from the NFL ($1,800)
 

CGI_Ram

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Nick Buoniconti is now 76, and his body is just completely falling apart, to the point where something like putting on a T-shirt is not just complicated—it’s near impossible. Nick and his wife, Lynn, shared a video with The MMQB, and you can take a look below at just where this old Hall of Famer is today.

I feel bad for Nick.

I am just not sure how much is related to football. It's hard for anyone to know.

Some people age well. Others don't. My mother is 77 and she has memory and physical limitatations... she never played football, of course.
 

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Btw did anyone else notice what Peter King said about Sean McVay while referring to Kaepernick?

"And if he sees a football future, and if I had a great quarterback coach (Sean McVay with the Rams, Bruce Arians in Arizona), I’d sign him to an incentive-laden contract. Right now."
 

Elmgrovegnome

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King is a master bloviator. Opining for Kaepernick now? Has he actually watched any of his games in the last few years? Does he know that Greg Roman had to tailor the offense so that all of Kaepernick's reads were to the right side of the field? How, does that equal a guy that McVay wants on the Rams? or any coach. Throw in that he is now toxic with his disrespecting the American flag during football games. Teams are fan sensitive and fans hate Colin. Kaepernick was good when the NFL was still trying to figure out the read option. Fisher was the first to start hitting the QB like he was a runningback and teaching his d how to defend the read option. Eventually the rest of the NFL caught up to it and got some fast players at LBer to nullify that offense. It took away the one thing that Kaepernick was good at.
 

fearsomefour

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King is a master bloviator. Opining for Kaepernick now? Has he actually watched any of his games in the last few years? Does he know that Greg Roman had to tailor the offense so that all of Kaepernick's reads were to the right side of the field? How, does that equal a guy that McVay wants on the Rams? or any coach. Throw in that he is now toxic with his disrespecting the American flag during football games. Teams are fan sensitive and fans hate Colin. Kaepernick was good when the NFL was still trying to figure out the read option. Fisher was the first to start hitting the QB like he was a runningback and teaching his d how to defend the read option. Eventually the rest of the NFL caught up to it and got some fast players at LBer to nullify that offense. It took away the one thing that Kaepernick was good at.
This is the problem with drafting a QB coming from a college system (the pistol O for Kap, many variations now) that are designed to take reads away from QBs. Guys are just come tell unprepared. Hard to tell if a guy is going to be able to mentally process the NFL game.
 

Elmgrovegnome

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This is the problem with drafting a QB coming from a college system (the pistol O for Kap, many variations now) that are designed to take reads away from QBs. Guys are just come tell unprepared. Hard to tell if a guy is going to be able to mentally process the NFL game.

Yep. There is no way to tell for sure if they can handle it all. It has really made drafting QBs difficult and with so many QBs running simplified offenses in high school then doing the same in college they have zero exposure to a pro system. Even if they have the mental capacity to learn one, it can take many more years for them get efficient at it. These simplified systems are hurting the pro game. But they sure make college football exciting.
 

fearsomefour

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Yep. There is no way to tell for sure if they can handle it all. It has really made drafting QBs difficult and with so many QBs running simplified offenses in high school then doing the same in college they have zero exposure to a pro system. Even if they have the mental capacity to learn one, it can take many more years for them get efficient at it. These simplified systems are hurting the pro game. But they sure make college football exciting.
Very true.
When I was helping coach some younger teens (up to 14) in football with a great group of coaches we designed pass plays with a couple of things in mind.
First, get the ball out quickly.
Second, simplify the options for the QB.
Third, give the QB an assurable and easy "throw away lane" if the receiver is covered, fell down or ran the wrong route.
So, little reading involved, mostly very short throws away from traffic, if something goes wrong, throw it away or run. But make that decision quickly. Don't hold the ball. All sounds familiar.
Of course college passing games are more advanced but the idea of limiting risk and choices and let athletic guys make simple plays....I get why it's appealing.
It just doesn't help for a guy who gets drafted.
 

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http://mmqb.si.com/mmqb/2017/05/12/growing-old-after-football

Growing Old After Football
The cost of perfection was different for members of the Dolphins’ 1972 undefeated team. Some are suffering from dementia while others are reading The Wall Street Journal and skateboarding around Venice Beach. But for all of them, the dangers of football weigh heavy on their minds
by Kalyn Kahler

This week, The MMQB published two stories about stars on the Dolphins’ 1972 undefeated team—linebacker Nick Buoniconti, who has been diagnosed with neurodegenerative dementia, and running back Jim Kiick, who recently moved into an assisted living facility because of dementia and Alzheimer’s.

Though chronic traumatic encephalopathy can only be diagnosed after death, but players are thought to be suffering from the degenerative brain disease.

For this week’s Talking Football, we reached out to Marv Fleming and Howard Twilley, who also played on the Dolphins’ undefeated team. Fleming, a tight end, is 75 now and living in Marina Del Rey, Calif.

He’s retired from a career in real estate that he began after football. Twilley, a receiver, is 73 and living in Dallas. He’s retired after working in a footwear business and working in wealth management.

Both players won two Super Bowls with the Dolphins, and Fleming also won a Super Bowl and two NFL titles playing in Green Bay prior to joining Miami. Fleming and Twilley both have been tested for brain damage, and they say their results are clear. But they’re also aware of the declining health of some teammates.

We spoke to them about what life is like for retired players who is mentally strong and healthy, how the league treats its former players, and whether or not they’d play football again knowing the damage that football can cause.

marvfleming_smile_0.gif

Marv Fleming warms up for Super Bowl VIII in Houston, 1974
Photo: AP Photo

KAHLER: What is it like to witness the decline of your teammates, Nick Buoniconti and Jim Kiick?

FLEMING: Years ago, I was the founder and president of the 1972 Perfect Season team. I’m the one who started it and got players to do signings and reunions . . . My mom had Alzheimers, and so I see it a lot. Mainly because I was on another team for seven years prior to the Dolphins, at the Green Bay Packers, and there, I see it a lot more. You know that look you sometimes see from your grandparents where they have their eyes open really big like they are trying to process what you are saying?

Every year we have an Ice Bowl team reunion in Green Bay and I see it more and more and more. Out of the roster, I’d go so far to say there are at least 15 or 20 that need help. I read a story where one player from that team went for a walk and they found him two days later and he was underneath a bridge.

They said, where have you been, what are you doing? And he says, well I got tired of walking, walking, walking. With the Dolphins, there have been several instances where I can look at a guy and tell right off just by me talking to them and the way they respond that they have slowed down quite a bit.

TWILLEY: Most of the times you just don’t want to bring it up. I’ve noticed Nick—the last time I saw Nick was at the 50-year reunion of the NFL and the 50-year reunion of the Miami Dolphins, that was last year. My wife and I went to Miami and I did see him there and he seemed to be a little glossy-eyed. He didn’t seem to be as sharp, but I didn’t think anything of it.

I thought he was just getting old and so am I . . . I wasn’t going to go up and say, Gee, you look terrible, Nick, do you have dementia? I don’t live in Miami, so I didn’t know about the details. In fact, I had no idea about Jim Kiick. I did believe that Jim had some issues, but believing and knowing are not the same thing. It’s really something that we’re all aware of.

FLEMING: Two years ago we had a signing in Chicago, and when you see guys, you are happy to see them, you shake hands and all that, and I saw Jim Kiick and I knew right away . . . I’m not going to list them all, but there are a few players on the team that have the beginnings of it.

KAHLER: Are there any other teammates that you noticed aren’t doing well?

TWILLEY: I went to [quarterback] Earl Morrall’s funeral. It doesn’t surprise me [that he had CTE], because he played a long time and he got a lot of hits. He was a great friend. We have these reunions from time to time and I guess I saw Earl at the 40th reunion, and his arm was shaking, and I thought to myself, Well, he was probably 87 at the time. I really loved Earl. Solid guy.

We all diminish as we get older. Nobody gets out of this world alive . . . I’ve seen Hubert Ginn, he was a special-teams player, he was a reserve defensive back and he returned kickoffs and punts. He has a person with him all the time, someone who is paid to watch after him.

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Howard Twilley takes in a Bob Griese pass and heads for the end zone for a touchdown in Super Bowl VII in 1973
Photo: AP Photo

KAHLER: Along with the stories of Buoniconti and Kiick, other members of the 1972 team have also been affected by CTE. Morrall died in April 2014 and was found to stage four CTE. Defensive end Bill Stanfill died in November after a long battle with dementia, and his brain and spine were sent to Boston University's CTE center. Knowing that, are you scared for your own future?

TWILLEY: Absolutely, I am concerned about it. There are things that you can have some control over and there are a lot more things that you have no control over, and that’s one of them. If you’ve gone through it and you hit people a lot and your body makeup and personality are such that it is going to happen to you, it is going to happen to you and there’s not a whole lot you can do about it.

I don’t know whether that will ever happen to me, and certainly I am not stupid enough to think that I’m immune from it. There is a level of concern moving to a level of fear. Some concern is there for everybody and then there is the, I’m going to get it, I’m unlucky, and I don’t think you can say that because I don’t think anybody knows that.

FLEMING: I am always thinking about it. I think about it a lot. I know it’s going to happen, and being 75 years old, I am glad I’ve gotten to be this age. I’m hoping that I can go longer. I am still skateboarding, I live near Venice Beach, so I still skateboard. I stopped skiing, because that really put myself in harm’s way. I am trying to be active. I still have a Vespa scooter for the beach. I’m still so far, so good, I’ve got my fingers crossed and I am trying to do the right thing.

KAHLER: Knowing what you know now—and having seen your former teammates struggle later in life—would you play football again?

FLEMING: Knowing what I know now, I would really look at it hard. Because for those people who want to be football players, there are other things that you can get happy about, you know? I play golf with all these guys who want to play golf with me and want to know about how it is when you run on the field, how it feels when you score a touchdown.

These guys pay me to ask these questions, and I’m saying, Hey, there are other things you can have fun with and it doesn’t have to be where it breaks down your body and your brain and curtails your life. I would really look closely at it before I do it again.

TWILLEY: Absolutely, I would play again. I would like to have been paid a little bit more. Fortunately, I went out and got into business and I’ve been financially fine. I wouldn’t trade the experience of catching a pass in the Super Bowl for 10 million dollars or 20 million dollars. I might, but I don't think I would.

FLEMING: I think football is good for a little kid growing up. It teaches him that your little owies, you can live with owies. But once those little owies get big, I don’t think that’s good. You may get scraped and bruised when you are a kid growing up, and I think after high school football, it becomes a business. High school, it’s fun to play it, but when you get to college and the pros, it’s a job.

There are more jobs outside football than there are playing professional football, so I would have my kid prepare himself to do something else besides football. I don’t have any children, but if I did, I would have them prepare themselves to do something else besides playing football.

KAHLER: How are you feeling today, mentally?

FLEMING: At the age of 75, we sometimes put our keys down, and where do we put our keys? Oh yes, where I left them. I would like to say that I am testing myself all the time. I do all kinds of word puzzles and I do things to test my memory all the time so that it won’t grow old, and to keep a fresh mind. I play golf probably three times a week.

I didn’t drink and I didn’t smoke and I didn’t do drugs or any of that stuff. I wanted to keep my body, especially when I played football, I wanted to have my body just completely ready for the game. I always want to keep myself in good shape. I’ve done the right thing, whatever that was at the time. I’d like to think I’m in pretty good shape.

TWILLEY: Things are going pretty well for me, other than just being forgetful. There is a difference between having dementia and being old and just misplacing things from time to time. I’m retired and I spend time with my grandkids. My job is pretty much doing the yard work. I like to plant flowers and I’m involved with my investments.

FLEMING: I was a tight end, I’d catch the ball and get hit upside the head. I blocked with my head and shoulders. And so, I’m so happy that I feel the way I do now. On a scale of 1-10, I’d say Marv Fleming is a good 8.

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Marv Fleming (81) huddles up with Bart Starr (15) and offensive teammates during a game in Los Angeles in 1967. Fleming says he's seen many of his Green Bay teammates decline
Photo: AP Photo/NFL Photo

KAHLER: Have you been tested for any brain damage?

TWILLEY: I have actually gone to a doctor that the NFL-sponsored and he put me through a test, this was about three or four years ago, and he said, You’re getting old and you are going to forget things, but you don’t have dementia. Whether that is a definitive diagnosis, I’m not sure, but right now I am pretty involved in things.

I think about things. I wrote my autobiography, not to publish, but for my kids to understand a little bit more about my life. In terms of dementia, I don’t think I have any of it right now. Now, that doesn’t mean that tomorrow I won’t. I guess you just don’t know.

FLEMING: Yeah, about five years ago, when the concussion thing first came out, I didn’t think I had any problem, so I go to the doctor and I get my head scan and he says, “Wow.” And I said, “Wow, what?” And he says to his assistant, “George, did you see this?” And from the back room, I don’t see his face, I hear, “Yep.” He says, “Come here Marv, look at this.”

And on the scan he showed me, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Seven patches of dead cells on your brain. I said, “You’re kidding me. There’s nothing wrong with me doctor.” He says, “Marvin, have you ever driven into San Francisco and ran into fog?” I said, yeah. You have to do that on the coast, you know.

He says, “That’s going to happen to you one of these days, you’re going to go in and you can’t come out.” Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. I can quote you scriptures and I can tell you all my passwords, I can do this and I can do that.

KAHLER: Did you try any treatment or therapy to be proactive against future brain damage or Marv, in your case, to try to repair the damage you already had?

TWILLEY: No, I didn’t. I have this therapy called planting flowers and reading a Wall Street Journal. I don’t worry about it very much. I worry about it some, but I think being involved and trying to do analytical work as opposed to just playing golf all the time can help. I think that has something to do with my situation. I think if you are using your brain to write things, and to analyze things, I think that helps diminish the possibilities of dementia, but I didn’t go to medical school.

FLEMING: I do what is called hyperbaric oxygen. I really like it. I do it once a week now. I used to do it three times a week. I put in over 400, maybe, close to 400 sessions. I was introduced to hyperbarics after my doctor found the dark spots, the abnormalities, on my scans. I went in for three months. I took my cognitive test before and at the end I took it again—and my scores just jumped off the page, they were so good and so high. I go back in and my doctor says, “Wow, Marvin.”

And he says, “George did you see this?” I still never saw George’s face. He says, “Come here Marv, look at this. This is before, and this is after.” I said, “The after is mine too? Where are the spots?” He says, “They all went away, they dissipated. And I said, you’re kidding me. What is going to happen to me now?” He says, “Well, nothing. Probably you’ll get hit by a truck on your cell phone.” I tell everybody about hyperbarics. I tell all my teammates.

When you hear Joe Namath does it, I’m the one who introduced Namath to it. I do it to stay afloat and above water. I tell all my teammates and most of them are waiting for the settlement [money]. You see, one thing about hyperbarics, is it’s not insured, but you can still work something out with somebody, like I did. It makes me feel really, really good. It’s 100 percent oxygen. If you have any ailments in your body, it heals it.

KAHLER: What made you decide to get checked out?

TWILLEY: There were a lot of people getting that kind of stuff and dementia was an outcome—and I just wanted to go for my own health. I got it set up with the NFL; it was a doctor in St. Louis. I went there and he did a little test. I really thought the NFL was going take care of all the expenses. The expenses weren’t really too much, I drove there to St. Louis, I took a little test and then he gave me another test. It’s really interesting how those things go because it deals with your ability to focus and remember things.

He’ll say, I want you to remember this sentence, and then he will ask you questions about other things and then eventually he’ll say, OK, tell me the magic word or whatever he wanted you to remember. I thought it was pretty good and they had all this stuff about dementia and I went to see the movie, Concussion. I don’t really believe I have any of those things.

I had a couple of concussions in the 11 years that I played. But at this point in time, I think some of it has to do with keeping your mind active. Working on analysis, and that’s one of the things I love to read about, what’s going to happen in the stock market. I read The Wall Street Journal everyday.

KAHLER: Howard, did the NFL ever end up paying for your tests?

TWILLEY: It was less than a hundred dollars, so I didn’t worry about it. I probably got confused, but I thought it was well worth the time. I enjoyed meeting the guy, I think he was doing some research on it as well. I got the information from the NFL. The doctor’s name was listed in an NFL correspondence to me and other NFL players.

KAHLER: Did you have any concussions during your career? What do you remember about them?

TWILLEY: It’s called getting your bell rung, but what that means is you get knocked out. I remember we were playing the Boston Patriots, the Boston Patriots in an exhibition game in Memphis, and I think somebody intercepted a pass and then I was trying to make a tackle. I dove at the guy and hit his knee and it knocked me out. I remember that one, I think that was my second year, 1967.

And then we were playing an exhibition game against the Eagles in Miami, in 1968, and I was running as hard as I could to catch a guy who intercepted a pass—we threw a few interceptions in those days—and a big defensive end, he blindsided me and he almost knocked me into the stands at The Joe. It was the hardest I’ve ever been hit in football. I was out for a little while.

FLEMING: I did get hit one time and knocked out. I tell a story that when I woke up laying on my back, you see the trainer, the doctor, you see some players, you see your mom, your dad, your brothers, you see the insurance people, you see the banks, you see the guy you say you’re going to owe money to. Everybody wants to know, are you going to be all right?

I’m kidding about all those people, but that’s how people are looking at you, are you going to be all right? I only had one instance like that that I can recall. I was laying there and they gave me some smelling salts and I walked off the field. I had a pretty successful non-big injury playing career.

KAHLER: Jim Kiick filed in the NFL concussion settlement and might receive some kind of payout. Did you register in that settlement?

TWILLEY: I don’t have a qualifying diagnosis at this point. I haven’t filed for any payment but I have registered and that means if something happens to me later, I’ve at least registered my experience to reserve my right to take the settlement if something happens to me later.

It depends on what you have, if you have Lou Gehrig’s disease, you get a lot of money but you don’t live very long. I really haven’t worried too much about that, because I don’t want any of that settlement, because I don’t want to get sick.

FLEMING: I went and did my baseline testing and I won’t be getting anything, which I am glad. I didn’t have any qualifying diagnosis. I didn’t have anything that would cause for any payment.

KAHLER: How much money was your first contract worth?

FLEMING: A whopping $15,000. And I got a $5,000 bonus.

TWILLEY: I signed for $25,000 per year and negotiated for different things. From time to time when I was playing, there would be a new league, the World Football League or the USFL, and those things would help because competition always helps in a capitalistic society. I got paid a little bit more because of some of that kind of stuff. The most money that I ever made playing football was $80,000 a year.

FLEMING: Outside football, I made more money there. I can tell you this, I used to get a pension check for $143.46 a month from the NFL. Then they had the strike four or five years ago that upped it, because the NFL was getting sued and they wanted to do some good to the players, so they gave us a legacy check, and the amount of years you played, they upped that.

So you saw how much I was getting before, $143.46, now I am getting $30,000 per year. So don’t feel sorry for me, OK, remember I did real estate and I made more money in real estate than anything. Residential real estate, buying and selling homes.

TWILLEY: My pension comes out to about $46,000 a year. And that’s for 11 years. If you played less than 11 years you get less. And that is also the new legacy benefit, when they had the last lawsuit or last labor fight, they said well, we need to take care some of these old veterans who didn’t get paid very much. I think my NFL retirement before the increase was about $33,000, so it was a pretty big increase. It’s like you said before, would I do it differently? No, I wouldn’t do it differently.

I was fortunate to be signed right out of the University of Tulsa with a guaranteed contract. The Dolphins didn’t have that much money to begin with, Joe Robbie did a real good job of making that into a fortune, and he didn’t have a fortune at the time. I remember guys going to the bank with their checks because they were afraid it wouldn’t [clear if they waited].

KAHLER: What do you think of the settlement? Are you frustrated? Are your former teammates frustrated?

FLEMING: Yeah they are. The NFL is all about money—money that they don’t want to pay. They have to pay the players that are playing, because they are making the money, but they really don’t care how they got there, meaning they don’t care about the former players. If they can block them out, they would. We are a thing of the past. It’s not that they care anymore, but they’ve moved on and it seems like to me that they should take care of the people who are taking care of them.

I’m talking about the owners and the young ball players. In basketball, they upped the pension for the guys that didn’t get paid very much. This happened with their new CBA. I read about it and thought, Wow, football people should look at that and give us a little bit more money to live on. The guys that played when I played, we made a little money for that time, but it’s nothing compared to what it is today. It’s nothing.

TWILLEY: I think the NFL is in it to make money. I don’t want to give them too much credit, because they were sued. They didn’t come out and offer and say, Hey, we are going to give you guys all this money. They were made to give you the money of the settlement by the court. I’m not trying to be hard on the NFL, too, these guys are businessmen . . .

I don’t know if this settlement is the end-all, be-all. I’m not a lawyer and I don’t know any of those kinds of things, but when you are working in a very precarious industry and all the risks are not explained to you, I don’t know how much that is worth. I’m not saying that the NFL settlement is bad. I think it is good, but I don’t know if it is adequate.

KAHLER: Do you have any anger toward the NFL about the treatment of retired players?

FLEMING: I am angry at them for not sharing the wealth with the older guys who brought the game to where it is today. I am angry at them not sharing. That’s what I am angry at. As far as going into the game, I knew that you could get hurt. I knew that. But as big as the game is today, yes, I am angry at them not being helpful to the players, because we have players living in trailers, we have players on the street, we have players who don’t have anything.

And these are the guys who didn’t plan for it, but they are part of that fraternity that is supposed to be so great and all that stuff, they should be taken care of. You can write this, please write this: The NFL is great for distractions. They distract the public and make the public think they are doing things for the players. They are great for distractions. We’re doing this and we’re doing this, and we’re doing that.

But if you go to those places and see how many players are participating in their programs, you’d be surprised that not many players are doing it. They are great for distractions and they just want to—there’s that old saying, deny until they die . . .

Yes, I am angry, but it is a business and they can do what they want and I’m taking my little notoriety that I have and I’m using it and so far I am doing very, very good. Financially and emotionally and everything else.