#switch blog

[rabbitwithredlipstick]

((Hello to my 12 followers (if you see this) I just wanna say I lost my interest in Scarlet Scarab and not as obsessed with Moon Knight, sorry! I'm going to be changing my blog, no longer doing Scarlet Scarab rps, but I'm thinking of switching between characters I want to rp, like Black Noir or my OCs. Hyperfixations are very fleeting, sooo I feel like I'd rather put this blog to use that leave Layla dead. Sorry!))

[tacumaroeback]

Best Man Holiday, the NFL and the Disappointments of Aging

The film Best Man Holiday has caused me to ponder mortality and the jarring truths that come with aging. The recklessness and romanticism we possessed as young people become blunted by the disappointments and hardships of middle age: failed relationships, unrealized dreams, and financial struggles. The setbacks can be as cold and hard as those wrinkles that start to set in our skin.   

I would even say the things we used to cherish – those institutions and beliefs we got googly-eyed over – no longer elicit the same thrills. Or maybe, they conjure up some joy, but that feeling evaporates once we fathom underlying truths: we start to see these sacred cows for what they really are.

Take the NFL, for example. The league was the center of my world. I was that kid in the sandlot, sporting a faded Kellen Winslow Chargers jersey, pretending to catch a winning touchdown just so I could be carried off by my imaginary teammates, like him.

Corny as this sounds, I would hum those old Sam Spence anthems that were looped over Inside the NFL highlights, with Harry Kalas narrating. I'd chuck my Nerf football all over Brooklyn schoolyards a’la Joe Montana.

It was before I was aware of the consequences and concussions; before I even knew that greats like Earl Campbell, for instance, could no longer walk on his own due to the injuries sustained from playing.

My callow mind could only appreciate the “WOW” plays: Campbell trucking Los Angeles Ram's linebacker Isiah Robertson in '78; Marcus Allen’s 74 yard run in Super Bowl XVIII against Washington or John Elway engineering “The Drive” against Cleveland in ’87.  

I had the good fortune of living long enough to see the NFL topple Major League Baseball as the king of professional sports. But the NFL’s pinnacle may have already been reached; its nadir could be approaching in the coming decades.

Paraphrasing the words of that old DeBarge song, "time will soon reveal."

The true consequences of violent sports, like football, are becoming more widely known. The sheer exhilaration of seeing a linebacker cream an unsuspecting player becomes short-lived. Worry will temper the elation. Will both players ever think or walk the same again after their playing careers are over?

Will they have to rely on a walker just to get around like Campbell?

Recently, NFL gridiron kings Tony Dorsett and Leonard Marshall were diagnosed with chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), the result of the constant punishment they either endured or dished out during their playing days. CTE is a degenerative brain disease linked to memory loss, confusion, impaired judgment, impulse control problems, aggression, depression, and progressive dementia.

More and more players, household names or not, are being diagnosed with CTE and other severe medical conditions. 

The sport is claiming the players we adore; but we cheer on, quietly harboring our guilt over what will become of their lives. Now the truth is out about the NFL, and our heroes' lives are suffering as a result. 

They seemed immortal on the field.

Leonard Marshall destroyed Joe Montana with one of football’s most devastating hits during the 1990 NFC title game, propelling his club to an eventual Super Bowl championship. As a Giants fan, Marshall was like a hero. That hit was symbolic in that it helped my G-Men derail a football dynasty.

Giants fans adore Marshall like they do Phil Simms and Lawrence Taylor because of that play. 

Dorsett was an electrifying athlete, flashy and fleet. You could not take your eyes off of him when he was toting the rock.

Now both men will have to live with the cognitive and emotional deficits of CTE for the rest of their lives.

And sadly, there will be more cases. And, if you live for another decade, you may witness the NFL’s fall where it becomes stigmatized like professional boxing.  

And those players you celebrated may die at ages that fall way short of normal human life expectancy. You may also hear of the arrest reports and episodes of bewildering behavior. But now, you’re old enough to know those behaviors had a catalyst: football, the sport you loved unabashedly as a child.  

To be old enough to witness the decline of something or someone you love is a theme in the new film Best Man Holiday. I won't reveal the details of the film. I will just say that the characters tussle with aging and premature decline very acutely). 

Some critics questioned why director Malcolm Lee chose to wait 14 years to put out a sequel to the original film, which opened in 1999.

But in their criticism, they're missing the central point: that the decline that comes with aging is a natural and formidable antagonist, universally felt by us all.

Fittingly, one of the central characters is a professional football player in the twilight of his career. The film doesn't show what happens to the player after his career ends; we just know that he will have to live without the sport that sustained him for so long.

There is but one truism: the people you cherish, the institutions you behold, all have a shelf life. The death for some will be immediate, and for others, the first signs of demise will begin to appear.

We have the memories to keep us, but those lenses, rose colored as they once were, are scuffed clean by those uneasy truths of aging.

For the NFL, the truth's glare will only intensify.

You can follow Tacuma Roeback at rahrahroeback.tumblr.com and @TacumaRoe. You can also like him on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/rahrahroeback