The NFL: Where Neglecting Ex-Players Happens

(Photo by Win McNamee/Getty Images)

The difference in today's game is huge. Around 20 years ago the average weight of an offensive linemen was 280 pounds and they could play into their 30s. Today the average linemen is 320 plus pounds and averages only three and a half seasons.

Darryl Johnston states, "When I broke my neck doing what I was trained to do, the league and union told me to get lost. The second I couldn't play I was dead meat to them. It was 'so long, see you later, and don't call us.'"

This is in reference to the fact that Johnston was looking to file for disability but was turned down by the retirement board.

Even Mike Ditka admits that it was tough when he played, as well. "I took cortisone injections three times a week and had four hip replacements after I quit the game, but that's football, and we chose to play hurt.

"We paid the price and thought the game would pay us back, but the league and union sold us out. In every sport, you've got your adversaries. I never thought we'd have to fight our own."

Ditka has also joined forces with the Gridiron Greats, founded by Jerry Kramer who serves as board of director. Sitting on the board is also Gayle Sayers, Harry Carson, Joe DeLamieulleure, and others.

Its purpose is to raise awareness of what the Players Association is doing to ex-players. Joe Montana states, "the NFL is the worst-represented league, on the players' side, in pro sports."

Ditka claims, "There's so much money in this goddamn game, and no one gives a shit about these guys. Bill Forrester's attached to a feeding tube, Joe Perry has to choose between eating and pain pills, and here's this Upshaw, with his $6.7 million salary, saying there's no dough left to help them out.

"That's greed talking, and nothing else." He adds, "It's criminal."

Gene Upshaw refused to speak to Solotaroff regarding the article. When Congress staged a hearing about the union's treatment of injured veterans in late June, he responded like a little kid calling Ditka too "dumb" to understand this issue and threatening to break DeLamieuller's neck.

He also elected to leave the country when Congress wanted to speak with him. What does that say about Upshaw?

There was an exhaustive investigation. It included countless interviews with injured ex-players, a look at their medical charts, reports from doctors selected by the league, and conversations with critics of the Players Association in the medical and legal community.

The findings showed that the pattern of conduct by the NFLPA denies former players the money they need and are entitled to. The NFLPA has painted a very bad picture of themselves by turning their backs on the men who built the NFL up in the first place.

Back to DeMarco, who can list names of players who were gone from the league: Tony Boselli, who played left tackle, gone at 29 after surgeries on his knee, shoulder, and ankle; Leon Searcy, right tackle, leg woes and waived at 32; Jeff Novac, left guard, retired at 31 after playing on a leg that bled, but won $5 million due to the doctor who performed surgery on him.

DeMarco states that the trainers were the ones that put the wood to the players. "They handed out these big, long packets of vicodin always hassling you with, 'You playing? You're playing right?' And that wasn't even on game day. That was Wednesday practice."

What's amazing though is what happened in 1997. In a game, DeMarco knocked down Tony Siragusa of the Baltimore Ravens. Siragusa was on his back, one leg planted in the turf, when DeMarco was slammed sideways by someone behind him and landed on Siragusa's upturned knee.

DeMarco shattered three ribs and two dislodged from the cartilage. He was carried off the field and was barely able to breathe because of the pain.

DeMarco states, "The doctor took this needle, filled it up with lidocaine, put a towel in my mouth saying, 'This'll burn.' He stuck that four-inch needle up under my rib cage—six big shots from my rib cage to spine, and suddenly I couldn't feel a damn thing. They wrapped up my ribs, which were sticking out sideways and sent me back in on the same series."

He further explains, "Anytime a crowd's gathered around on the sideline, they're doing something they don't want you to see."

Dave Pear states the same thing but that was back in the '70s. In a game against Seattle in '79, he took a hit that felt like "lightning" down his spine. Pear says, "I came over to the sideline and the team doctor—his nickname was Needles—sends me back in the game.

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