What forensic pathologist Bennet Omalu found in 2002 when he cut open the head of former Steelers center Mike Webster and sifted through the dead player’s brain might be the biggest sports medical discovery ever. The tiny red flecks of protein that appeared in Omalu’s microscope was the first hint that brain trauma in football players might have long-term consequences. Webster who was 50 when he died had the deterioration of a man many years older.
The red flecks have changed football, hockey, soccer and even baseball. They have brought sports doctors to treat concussions with the same care they would use on a ruptured knee. They have opened a significant window to the final frontier in human science, offering new insight into how the brain works.
Sony Pictures should be making a movie about Bennet Omalu. They should show Concussion starting Will Smith in theaters all over the world. And in no way should they allow the NFL to dilute the power of what Omalu saw in his microscope that day and the fight he had to prove the significance of his work.
The New York Times reports that emails made public in last year’s hack of Sony’s computer system show studio executives worrying about the reach of the league. One email says “unflattering moments for the NFL” were removed or altered. Another said the film was watered down to avoid confrontation with the league’s attorneys.
Sony executives told the Times they are not caving to the NFL. They said the emails show they are trying to be accurate, stripping rhetoric from a powerful issue. There is no real way to know if they are right. The removed scenes probably were never filmed. If they were they have likely been destroyed. We will never know how potent the movie might have been.
But if Sony undercut the strength of Omalu’s story to keep the NFL from suing then it should be ashamed. Head trauma is too important an issue to worry about a dusty courtroom tussle. But the league is accustomed to making important people break. Why should Sony be any different?
The NFL is the most powerful and lucrative sports league in the world. They have gone from $6bn to a projected $12bn in revenues over the last decade and hope to reach $25bn by 2027 through the ruthless manipulation of every entity that brushes against its insignia.
They have lured television networks to pay far more than they can afford for rights by dangling the threat of broadcasting the games themselves. They tried to force their own TV network onto cable systems by buying up college bowl games they thought might feature college teams from markets where the cable companies were holdouts. They have shown little motivation to put a team in Los Angeles the last two decades because, in part, so many of their teams have used the suggestion of moving to LA as a way to extract riches in stadium deals.
The fear of upsetting the NFL’s executives has long guided television networks who are desperate to feed off the league’s enormous ratings. Testy issues like head trauma and players’ off-field behavior have been especially troubling to a league that likes to control its image. Last year the NFL complained to ESPN about a documentary the network was producing with Frontline about concussions in football. An interview with Omalu was one of the show’s most compelling moments. ESPN, which broadcasts NFL games, pulled out of the project.
This wasn’t the first time ESPN crumbled when the NFL expressed displeasure. In 2003 it cancelled the second season of a dramatic series called Playmakers based on a fictitious professional team and shot in a Canadian stadium because the league did not like how the show’s themes revolved around drugs and sex.
‘’It’s our opinion that we’re not in the business of antagonizing our partner, even though we’ve done it, and continued to carry it over the NFL’s objections,” then ESPN executive vice president Mark Shapiro told the New York Times. “To bring it back would be rubbing it in our partner’s face.’’
If the NFL is so concerned about a fake show with fake teams and fake players that it forced ESPN to stop production, imagine what it can do to Sony over an uncomfortable subject that is actually real.
Back in late 2006 and early 2007, as Omalu’s discovery became news, the NFL worked to discredit him. They pulled out doctors with flimsy credentials to say concussions were not a serious issue. They questioned the science. They quietly urged journalists to examine some potential flaws in Omalu’s background.
Eventually, with the help of an inquisitive congress, the NFL became serious about head trauma. They now say player safety is a top priority and talk about it often. Nearly a decade later, Omalu’s message has won. His discovery in that microscope has forced even the NFL to change. He stood fearlessly against the barrage from a league that did not want to hear his words. In doing so, he forced change.
But what is the worth of a heroic movie about a man who stood up to the NFL if the moviemaker is afraid to do the same?
