Return to Form: The Argument for Life in the NFL Without the "Big Hits™"

If the 2010 season proved anything, it's that James Harrison and LaMarr Woodley like to hit people. Hard.

They're good at it, too. In 2010, Harrison had 70 solo tackles, 10.5 sacks and six fumbles forced. Woodley had a good year, as well, with 35 solo tackles, 10 sacks and three fumbles forced. They also play for the Super Bowl runners-up Pittsburgh Steelers, a franchise legendary for its physical toughness.

So it's no surprise that both have sounded off repeatedly on past and future actions considered by the NFL to limit the number of so-called "Big Hits™". Calling the rules committee "idiots", calling the rules changes being considered "stupid" and repeating the mantra that Football Is A Tough Guy's Game™. "Soft" says Woodley.

Hey, LaMarr, you know what would toughen up the game even more? Guns. That's right; the bar has been raised. If you're not willing to risk getting shot in the face to save 3 yards on a screen pass, then hang up your slippers, prima donna ballerina.

Of course, that's just ridiculous. But it's no less ridiculous than the griping by players like Harrison and Woodley. Oh, yes. They have company on every team in the league. Of course they do. Big hits make highlight reels, and there are plenty of products in dire need of a tough guy to hawk them.

Because make no mistake: These guys are not arguing from their gut or any sense of "toughness." They're arguing from their wallets. They aren't football purists who don't want to see the game "softened."

They're businessmen who don't want their paychecks to shrink. Striking fear into opponent's hearts and shortening careers means money in the bank at contract time and in endorsement deals. Harrison and Woodley are no fools.

They understand that if the highlight reels don't show them Jacking Up!™ a halfback in the flat or receiver across the middle, they lose visibility, and consequently, potential millions. Psychotic Rage Sports Drink (not a real drink) isn't going to hand out a multimillion-dollar contract to a technique tackler who always brings his man down but never rips his helmet off.

This side never seems to be presented, and there's a good reason why: Because making an extra million for one or two guys per team isn't a good enough reason to increase the chances of debilitating, life-long injuries. There are 50-plus other guys on the roster, and quite a few of them would rather not be in a wheelchair the rest of their lives so that the one or two or even 10 can make a little extra money. Sounds pretty cut and dried when you look at it that way.

Of course, money is the reason the "Big Hits™" have been allowed as long as they have. Ad revenues depend on excitement, and let's face it, fans can be pretty bloodthirsty. Three minutes on YouTube will tell you all you need to know about what the fans like to see.

But here's a thought that both the NFL and the players have been having for the last few months: Screw the fans. Will lifelong Packers and Steelers fans stop watching their favorite teams just because a few of their players are drawing fines? I don't think so, and neither does the NFL, which is why they're considering changing the rules.

And what exactly would the change mean? Some players get fined more and keep on hitting as hard as they can? Not likely. Harrison himself admitted that it changes the way he plays. So much for toughness and purity.

No, the change would mean that the big hit would return to what it was: a once-a-game-at-best highlight, not the logical result of every third play. Maybe when players are forced to wrap up and tackle instead of firing themselves like a missile, defenses might start to stiffen against offenses that have it almost too easy.

You heard me. Changing the rules will probably make defenses better, not worse. Too many big plays are the result of missed tackles and blown coverages because guys were lining up for the hit instead of taking the ball-carrier down. Of course, this might mean fewer 4,000-yard passers, but honestly, that benchmark has been getting too easy to reach.

When Kyle Orton is in the same stat range as Peyton Manning, something is wrong. No offense to Orton; he's good. But he's not Manning, or Tom Brady, or even Philip Rivers and Aaron Rodgers.

We might see a renaissance for the rapidly-fading feature back, or better yet, a running back's career going on longer than five years. A lot of people aren't going to like hearing this, but Walter Payton would not have been "Sweet" for so long had he been pounded by physical supermen like James Harrison every play.

So let's see. Where are we? Purity of the game? Not as big a concern as dollars. Giving the fans what they want? Not a concern at all, given the CBA debacle. Toughness? Take off the pads and prove it. Rugby players don't wear 35 pounds of armor. Well, that's three big holes in the top three arguments.

Which brings me to this: The big hits won't go away no matter what. Angle of pursuit, line of fire, speed and size ensure that fans will still get to ooh and ahh at NFL-level collisions. Just not as often.

They say Tim Tebow is a nice guy. If so, I'd rather he play for 10 years than have his neck snapped one day because James Harrison doesn't want a pay cut, or because fans won't get everything they demand, or because football will no longer pass some horse-puckey, arbitrary purity test of masculinity and toughness.

Just my humble opinion.