Lloris injury highlights need for soccer concussion protocols

When Hugo Lloris shrugged off the Tottenham training staff and put himself back into Sunday’s game against Everton to save  the decisive penalty, public reaction moved quickly from curiosity to disbelief and then to rampant rationalization. 

The shot-stopper had recently concussed by an errant knee by Toffee forward Romelu Lukaku and despite his save, we must now ask whether players should input into such decisions.

Lloris, captain of France and number one at White Hart Lane, essentially pulled rank on educated medical professionals and convinced manager Andre Villas-Boas he was fine to continue despite obviously losing consciousness. It’s a fair bet Lloris couldn’t have named the President of France, the date or even his name and thus been assessed as having a (probably mild) head injury. 

Plaudits are often paid to those who play on despite injury. This is not one of those times. Alongside dizziness, visual dysfunction and sometimes vomiting, one cardinal sign of head trauma is reduced executive function (decision making).

Automatically, klaxons sound: if a player with diminished cognitive capacity has the loudest voice in whether he continues playing, serious consequences are close at hand. The decision must rest with medical professionals alone, usually by applying a concussion assessment tool. Altered executive function may result in the concussed player’s condition worsening, or him putting himself or other players at further risk. The best solution would be to remove such a player from the game and, if necessary, adding a fourth substitution mediated by the umpire.

British jockeys and NFL players have strict rules in place for the management of head injuries; if an athlete can’t pass the famed “concussion protocols”, they don’t play. The same must apply to football players both during and after matches – even though there’s less chance of such catastrophic impact, it can and does happen.

The reasons are simple. While manager Villas-Boas stated the final call rested with him, he is only sort-of right. The final tactical decision may rest with the manager, but had further injury occurred either to Lloris or another player due to Lloris’ reduced capacity then liability rests with the medical team. Ergo, the ultimate decision has to be made by trained healthcare providers rather than a coach or a motivated player with faculties perhaps already below 100%. Despite Spurs' protestations that they did clear the player, the time taken to do so on Sunday - in comparison with kayoed NFL players - seemed remarkably short even considering the circumstances.

The support staff for a club want the team to win just as much as players and coaches do. However, they must also balance this with the wellbeing of the individuals. While one would hope coaches and players also have player welfare foremost at heart, several past examples suggest this may not always be the case. With head injuries, especially in light of the recent spate of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy diagnoses, safer is better than sooner.

Short pitch: Fixing the Pro Bowl

With the popularity of the Pro Bowl waning dramatically, it's time for the NFL to either put the game out to pasture or to expand the weekend's festivities to include more than American Football's least important annual encounter.

The NFL could take a lesson from their younger antipodean brother, the Australian AFL.

The AFL Grand Final pre-game and half-time entertainment probably peaked in 1979 with KISS's half-time spectacular.  Since then, acts have been as varied as Angry Anderson and the Batmobile to last year's abominable Meatloaf performance.  But the one thing that entertains most between the Grand Final's halves is the sprint, where one player from each club races to earn the title of league's fastest.
Even though it's handicap nature means that usually resting ruckmen or even Brendan Fevola win the title; "Crackers" Keenan tells a wonderful story about drinking all morning and then having to run the event fueled only by beer.  The race captivates 10 million barbecue-bound Australians in culture where any self-promotion is automatically dismissed as self-aggrandisation.  Just imagine what it could do in the largest market in America.

NFL athletes are those best suited to run entertaining sprints: they've got the speed, they want the attention and finally - and to put it mildly - they're not afraid of self-promotion.  Since Usain Bolt destroyed his rivals in the London Olympics, no end of challenges have been issued to the Jamaican blur by likely types.  Chris Johnson, of the Tennessee Titans, says Bolt's slow starts could cost him in a head-to-head matchup, while Heisman Trophy candidate Denard Robinson thinks he could beat the Olympic champion.  Terrell Owens recently earned a contract with the Seattle Seahawks based largely upon his sub-4.5 second 40 yard sprint.

Rhys Stanley wins the 2011 Grand Final sprint

If the event is lucrative enough, enough stars - possibly Bolt himself - could probably be enticed to run.  It's possible that just the title itself would be enough.  As well as fascinating a nation, the sprints could be interactive, with fans voting on participants in concert with players and coaches.  Distance?  Who cares about distance?  Have individual events like a 40 yard sprint and a 100 meter dash.

Of course, installing a sprint doesn't increase waning interest in the Pro Bowl itself, but it would certainly attract a major television audience and generate the pub debate that the Pro Bowl just doesn't.  The Slam Dunk and 3-point contests revitalised the NBA's All-star game but have suffered with time; the simple and elegant beauty of a sprint is that it never loses it's appeal.  The event is wholesome, injuries are rare: a win-win for a league where anything controversial just runs and runs.

The Pro Bowl seems destined for ignominy unless major changes occur: it's time for the NFL to think outside the box.

photocredit: hardballget.wordpress.com

Graphic: US arena naming rights

The following graphic shows the startling range of companies that have the naming rights for North American major league sports arenas, broken down by company market.  That is, each company is categorised according to its primary industry.

The category "other" includes all companies which sponsored only one arena, eg. Petco Park in San Diego is the only stadium sponsored by a pet service company.  Traditionally named stadia are those whose iconic status is enough to generate income rather than relying upon corporate sponsorship - for example, Candlestick Park or Arrowhead Stadium.  (It is debatable whether multinational sports companies like Fenway Sports Group or the Madison Square Garden corporation in fact "sponsor" their arenas; for this purpose, they are lumped in with "traditionally" named stadia.)

As you can see, Financial Service, banking and mobile telephone companies dominate the naming rights landscape.

Breaking down Forbes' Top 100 highest earning athletes

Forbes is perhaps the highest profile business magazine in the world. It certainly boasts as much clout as any, and an effective part of this has simply been their willingness to create reams of lists: the Best Paid Actors, the most overperforming stocks for 1955.  The internet loves this stuff.  These aggregations are easy on the eye - and almost as easy on the brain.  But because it's easily digestible information, a interweb culture raised on instant gratification laps it up.

The following chart has its origins in one of Forbes' more popular lists.  It was released yesterday and estimates the net income for those highest earning athletes.  Typically, players in sports with broad appeal played by Average Joe do better in endorsements: those with the most lucrative sponsorship are usually golfers, tennis players, footballers and basketballers.  The best in motorsport earn as much or more in endorsements as they do in prize money or salary.  Players who form part of an extensive rotation - ie. baseballers and NFL players - can earn as little (!) as $100,000 for the year in endorsement deals.

The chart is broken down where an athlete's endorsement income is plotted against his earnings from salary or prize money.  Minimum qualifying income for 2011-12 was $16.6 million (US) for the year.  Athletes are coloured according to their sport.  As always, we recommend clicking on the chart to enlarge it.

Copyright Balanced Sports

The list is relatively easily broken down.  The two highest earners were both boxers who pulled in relatively minimal endorsement deals - considering the world's most highly paid athlete was Floyd Mayweather, who is currently serving a prison sentence for threatening his ex.  You can see the obvious trends - those most marketable NFL/MLB stars earn up to eight figures in endorsements (Peyton Manning and Derek Jeter respectively), but generally the highest paid players in those sports earn comparative peanuts by selling their name.

The list comprised four boxers, one sprinter (Usain Bolt), five golfers, eight motorsport aces (4x NASCAR, 3x Formula 1 and Valentino Rossi), five tennis players, ten footballers, 13 basketballers, 30 NFL players, 22 baseballers and two Indian cricketers.  It almost goes without saying that the three outliers - top red, and far-right greens - were Tiger Woods, Mayweather and Manny Pacquiao.

Only two women made the list, tennis players Maria Sharapova and Li Na, who came in at 26th and 81st on the list, respectively.  Both only earned a small fraction of their total endorsement value in prize money, making them typical for their sport.

On Tebow, Divine Intervention and Subtlety

Yesterday, USA Today released a poll that said 43% of Americans believed Divine Inspiration was the primary reason behind the Denver Broncos victory over the heavily favoured Pittsburgh Steelers in their first-round playoff encounter last weekend.

Why would God favour the Broncs?  Because their quarterback is Tim Tebow.

Tebow was described last week by TIME Magazine as “perhaps the most significant evangelical Christian in the USA”.  He the most divisive athlete in the USA: Christians and romantics love his underdog status, while he’s disdained by those who think he, or his religion, or his God is a phony.

As a practicing Christian myself, I find Tebow a fascinating study.  His back story is incredible, starting with a long-shot birth that led him to appear in anti-abortion ads.  When he prays visibly before and after matches, presumably asking the Lord for help and guidance, he does so ostentatiously on one knee.  When at the University of Florida, he began writing bible verses on his eyeblack, the NCAA instituted a ruling prohibiting messages to be written on eyeblack.  He won a Heisman Trophy as College Football’s best player, and was drafted to the NFL late in the first round.

The thing is, Tim Tebow isn’t that good – at least, not fundamentally.  Although he throws a good long ball, his short passing is inaccurate: he completed only 46.5% of his passes this year, the lowest of all the NFL’s starting QBs.  This impacts his versatility, as his team’s offence must be built around his strengths.  No-one questions his leadership; but his game skills are far below most other QBs remaining in the playoffs.

Yet when the Broncos stood at 1-5 and named him their starter, he led them to seven wins in eight.  He played ugly quarterback football; but his team won, often overturning significant fourth-quarter deficits in the process.  A run of three straight losses to end the regular season dented fans’ hopes of a similar postseason run, but their upset overtime win has brought Tebow-mania to the forefront of this week’s sporting conscience.

Very few people, especially athletes, engender the same national polarisation.  Tim Tebow is liked – and disliked – because his story is steeped in Christianity.  It’s easy to divide the admirers and haters along religious lines.  However, to suggest that God cared about Tim Tebow winning or losing a football game, for whatever ends, is perhaps too simplistic.

Does it take Divine Intervention, rather than simply the Steelers’ injuries catching up with them, the Broncos’ home-field advantage or even Tebow – and receiver/favourite target Demaryius Thomas – playing out of their respective skins, for a relatively unskilled QB to lead his team to an upset?  Hardly.

Crucially, for his team and his narrative, Tim Tebow passed for exactly 316 yards on Sunday, the TV ratings peaked at 31.6 (in the most-watched first-round game in ages) further fanning the flames of fundamentalist fervour.  Not coincidentally, John 3:16 was Google’s most-searched term the day after the match.

Commenting on this issue becomes fraught with danger simply because it involves using black and white terms to describe a full-colour issue.  However, given an Evangelical Christian bent for literal interpretation of the bible, the notion of angel-with-a-flaming-sword-style Divine Intervention being behind Tim Tebow’s football victories can be seen most prominently (among many) either as God elevating his man for a role, or rewarding him for faithful service. 

Both arguments are flawed, but neither can be discounted entirely.  The first reason suggests familiarity with the methods and motives of an omniscient deity who’s really, really good at forward planning.  The second minimises the God-given talents of Denver players and coaching staff, making them all secondary to the Tebow story.  Many “haters” will suggest this is apt, a poignant reminder of the Cult of Tim – which benefits one man and his possibly-imagined deity.

That is not to say that God isn’t (potentially) behind the Broncos’ success.  As Tebow himself would attest, he has been blessed with size, talent and situation.  But to suggest the result of a football match, no matter how many Google hits it generates, is a high priority for an omniscient deity is to suggest that God has favourites – in opposition to biblical precedent and context.  This isn’t to say their victory wasn’t due to Divine Intervention; just that such a conclusion seems remarkably unsubtle, rather unlikely, and therefore shouldn’t be the first one leapt to.

No matter what the motive or result, taking individual matches as proof that God is helping a young Christian to win football games simplifies an entire religion so far that it can fit inside a full matchbook.  Religion, except perhaps Verdukianism, is almost never that simple; like an Aaron Rodgers QB sneak, it is almost always more subtle.

Time-Lapse photostudy: Marshawn Lynch, Seattle Seahawks, runs for touchdown

In the second of our photoseries specials, we present the Seattle Seahawks' best offensive weapon, running back Marshawn Lynch runs for a touchdown against the Baltimore Ravens.

Lynch's run in the playoffs last season created such noise in Seattle's (then) Qwest Field that a minor earthquake was registered on local seismographs due to crowd noise. These photos were taken from the Hawk's Nest at CenturyLink Field.

Time-lapse Photostudy: Joe Flacco to Ed Dickson

From time to time when we attend a sporting event, we will post these time-lapse photoseries, detailing looks at the technique and plays called in sport at the highest level.  Our first commemorates Matt's first ever live NFL game, between the Seattle Seahawks and the Baltimore Ravens.

Cam Newton, no stranger to controversy, goes no. 1 in NFL Draft

Auburn's Cam Newton is the first pick in the NFL Draft and the man anointed to take over at quarterback for the Carolina Panthers. Newton, the high-profile son of a minister, was always going to be taken within the first few picks of the combine and his draft class - before he was even picked - has been dubbed the "Cam Newton Draft". According to ESPN, today, fourteen hours after being selected, he is already working out in Charlotte preparing for what will unquestionably be a gruelling rookie year in the National Football League.

The young man has already had to face his share of controversy. After committing to the University of Florida, he initially backed up national hero and all-around good guy Roger Ramjet, err sorry, Tim Tebow. After an ankle injury and allegations of academic impropriety and theft, he transferred to a JuCo rather than face further penalties.

He took Blinn College (home of the NBA's tattooed monster, Chris Andersen) to the National JuCo Championship and transferred to Auburn University. However, it emerged in November that Newton was alleged to have been offered to SEC Colleges (by the amusingly named Kenny Rogers) if they paid him (or his father) up to $200,000. As this kind of transaction is highly illegal in college sports, the NCAA immediately began investigations into Newton, his father Cecil, Kenny Rogers and entire the Auburn football program. No guilt was ever proved and it's some of Auburn's opinion that the whole shebang was orchestrated by Florida coach Urban Meyer.

With each layer, the Cam Newton Controversy sounded more and more fishy, yet no rotting piscine heads have been found anywhere, testament either to lack of evidence or a collegiate athletic association which has neither the reach nor heart to uncover one example of what many suspect to be systematic rorting of the system. Yet the young man remained as unaffected as possible during this time and ended his time at Auburn with the Heisman Trophy and a National Championship in tow. The only questions that remain about Cam Newton aren't ones of body and talent, but of his attitude and common sense.

Rather than face ongoing scrutiny at college level, Newton, in a decision probably called "Operation: Out of the Frying Pan", decided to face ongoing scrutiny in the NFL. He was made the number one pick. It's true he had probably exhausted his time in College football - really, what else does he have to play for? - and he's talented enough to thrive in the NFL. Whether he's going to be the professional he was as an alleged amateur is hidden by the shrouds of time, but he at least has the pedigree and exposure to hype which could help him avoid being nominated as a "bust".

Quarterback: NFL's most divisive position

Last weekend when a group of us gathered around the TVs at our favourite bar to watch the NFL Playoffs, someone asked who we would cheer for - New England or New York. There were a few seconds of debate before someone stopped all conversation and made the decision for us: New York. His reasoning? "The thing is about Tom Brady" he said about the New England quarterback "The thing is about Tom Brady is that he's a c**k". Decision made - we would be supporting the New York Jets because one guy didn't like Tom Brady. It seemed to work too, as Brady then had a stinker and the wildcard Jets defeated the no. 1 seeded Pats.

There's no other position in sport which generates the same levels of intense scrutiny as an NFL quarterback. Neither is there another position in any sport which polarises popular opinion so much. Were you ask your Average Joe's opinion of any QB and Joe will say he really likes a guy, or really dislikes him. There's very little middle ground: when constantly in the public eye, the path to popularity is thin and takes sudden twists.

It's probably this visibility which inspires us to make judgements about these Offense directors. These value judgements can be based on anything and can be conscious or unwitting. With the level of interest surrounding NFL in America and the amount of exposure we have as a public to the most sacrosanct position in football, it's nearly impossible not to osmose a certain level of familiarity with these most worshipped - or criticised - athletes. And to follow the cliche, familiarity breeds things other than shared bathroom habits.

The parallel is easily drawn with Reality Television stars - we know about them because they are there. If you have an interest in any sport, it's hard to miss news about an ailing quarterback. We know more about Kim Kardashian than anyone would ever want to and likely as not this inspires people, consciously or subconsciously, to form an opinion on her. It's the same with quarterbacks, much more than for Linemen or Safeties: Quarterbacks are the celebrities of the sporting world. They are the talismans for their respective teams, to borrow a soccer term, and emblematic of all things good or bad about their franchise.

The best example of this visibility is to think who's interviewed after every match: the Quarterback. Every single NFL quarterback has been "The Man" in High School, the Big Man on Campus at College and is paid in the millions of dollars per year to throw a ball. With football teams from High School up carrying rosters numbering above a hundred and the quarterback is almost always the key player, any normal person would find it hard for this attention not to reflect in their own personality.

Good QBs by nature are confident to a fault. It's part of their job description as they are appointed to be on-field leaders for dozens of men - it hardly does for a leader to be either pessimistic or sullen. These guys are for the most part so competitive it dominates their entire lives, another factor which divides opinion: you either respect this single-mindedness or value a more well-rounded character. Every quarterback past Primary School age has to lead his team and with that responsibility comes and inflated sense of importance. This pride - on display or not - yet another source of Average Joe liking or disliking a QB: where Average Joe may dislike the perceived arrogance of a Jay Cutler, his best mate Average Pete dislikes what he sees as Aaron Rodgers' false humility. The line between self-belief and arrogance is hard to see without the benefit of objectivity.

Personal preference of course plays an enormous role in this Like/Dislike dichotomy, where one person may value confidence and straight-talking, humility and actions resonate more with another. It may come down to whose face is more agreeable: Tom Brady's supermodel-slaying good looks, or Jay Cutler's perpetual impression of a redneck Droopy, flannelette shirt and all. It could be their streak of killing your team from the other side of the field. Or their habit of killing your team from within. But like it or not, quarterbacks inspire black and white, like-or-dislike reactions more than any other athletes in the world.

Brett Favre: A matter of definition

After watching “The Wrestler” last night, it occurred to me that the battle between what's best for you and what defines you as a person is something which most athletes fight against throughout their careers. In the movie this battle is unsubtly portrayed as Randy “The Ram” Robinson is forced to reconsider his future due to health problems – the drama that nearly won “The Wrestler” several Oscars comes as he tries to reintegrate into a society that replaces peer and fan accolades with normal human relationships.

I can't help but think this is partly what haunts Brett Favre. Once you could know with absolute certainty that he'd start 16+ games in the green and gold, but over the past few years he's been traded to New York (seriously, can you think of a larger paradigm shift than moving from Green Bay to New York City? I can't), retired, unretired, signed as a free agent with the Minnesota Vikings, flirted with retirement, held out and finally come back to the Vikings apparently re-energised and ready for a twentieth NFL season.

His consecutive streak of starts remains unbroken after Thursday's loss at New Orleans, but Favre continues to ride the Pro Football bus. The most decorated QB of the past two decades, Favre is perhaps one of the most complex men in the league no matter how simple and corn-fed he and his agent have made him out to be. His life took a new turn in 2010 as he became a grandfather, the only one in the pro football today.

There can only be two reasons for his continued NFL existence – he still loves the game as much as ever, or that he's scared of the future. Sure the money is nice, but for a man who's made more money than Gordon Gekko – to continue the movie theme – surely it can't be the determining factor. And nothing in sports is as cut and dried as it seems, especially with Brett. The guess here is that his decision to go around again stems from both Column A and Column B. There can be no question that he loves the game, but I'd bet my last dollar that Favre's defined himself in his own brain, his own ego, as a quarterback. He's done this since high school football. It's fair to surmise he has minimal idea what his life will involve once he finally hangs up the helmet for good.

And to be fair, this doesn't just happen with pro athletes although they do form the most striking example of post-career blues. I once knew a therapist in Melbourne – call him Lal – who'd worked in the same area for nearly seventy years. He tried to retire and hand over control of his practice five separate times to his successors, moved down to his beach house and promptly returned in less than two months to demand reinstatement at the head of the clinic. At last count, he was 93 and had finally retired for the sixth time. It turned out he got bored easily. Can you imagine how bored one must get after nearly thirty years of adrenaline highs?

In sport though, the contrast can be even more stark. Anyone who retires from their local sports club can depart appreciated, but the level of adulation that John Public receives after fifteen years sterling service at Dumbarton FC could only be the most poor imitation of what pro athletes go through. When you get to the Pros, the volume is turned up to eleven: there's more money, there's more and prettier women, and the lifestyle involves greater excesses. The comedown off the NFL high – especially one that's lasted twenty years and four different cities – is something to be feared.

This problem of definition tends only to raise it's head later in an athlete's career. But should it occur earlier, these issues with self-definition can haunt an athlete's legacy forever. One of the more well-rounded athletes of recent times was basketball's David Robinson. Robinson retired in 2003 after winning his second NBA Championship with the San Antonio Spurs and has never looked back. That he had foundations and several business interests from an early age perhaps detracted from his NBA career – the main criticism of him while in the NBA was that basketball wasn't a matter of life and death to him – but it did make for an easier transition into retirement and normal life. To paraphrase, the road to retirement is paved with good intentions. Robinson will forever be labelled as never reaching his potential because the game just didn't mean enough to him. Several coaches have said that he was amongst the most talented players ever, but failed to live up to his potential. But should we as fans look down on him for those same reasons or celebrate a man who realised more and earlier than the rest of us that sport is an outlet, a means to an end?

With Brett Favre, it isn't the Liberatore Conundrum (http://balancedsports.blogspot.com/2010/07/liberatore-conundrum.html) all over again, not even close. Favre is an offensive player whose skill is delivering the ball rather than stopping an opponent. But I can't help but feel sad looking at a player and realising he knows everything there is to know about one sport but he's yet to discover that there's more to life. What becomes even more tragic is when onfield performance begins to suffer and the last limping seasons become defining memories. This isn't a major concern yet given the strength of his offensive line and his characteristic poise. To that end, Favre is coming off one of his best ever statistical seasons. But even after such a dominant season to find him having second thoughts about continuing makes me think his heart really isn't in it but he knows little else.

Does this reluctance to walk into the sunset show up as a black mark on his career? I don't think so. Firstly, his performance hasn't slipped that much and it's unlikely to slip much more (unless his offensive line stinks) because he plays predominantly from the pocket. Favre's singular strength has always been the combination of accuracy and head smarts and this means he could even play for another year or two yet. But when you think about a generation-defining player, usually the lasting memories you have tend to be those of their final moments. Michael Jordan, author of several of the greatest moments in basketball history: “The Shot”, “The Pass”, “The change-hands”, “The Shrug” finds these all superseded by one defining memory: of him at the foul line with arm extended. “The Other Shot” against Bryon Russell and the Utah Jazz has become Michael Jordan's piece de resistance, the final morsel to be savoured before retiring, not his early high-flying days or his nasty Washington Wizards coda. More than anything else though, Michael Jordan's had a curious off-field persona ever since his days with Chicago and all of this is masked by the happy, vibrant memories he gave us while playing for the Bulls.

Perhaps this is closer to the truth as to why Favre sat on the fence so long before coming back. One of his last acts in an outstanding potentially-final season was to throw the ball away under pressure in last year's NFC Championship game against the Saints. Perhaps, like MJ, he understands his own legacy and feels that his messy exits from Green Bay and the Jets could mean his off-field persona is forever marked somewhere between indecisive and spoiled. Perhaps he feels he needs a happy ending before finally walking into the sunset.

Perhaps.