On the vagaries of the American mythology

Things which matter most must never be at the mercy of things which matter least. – Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Trigger warning! If this column doesn’t aggravate the crap out of you and get me killed in the process then nothing will. Taking on the general sweaty public, the NFL, and a Christian God – all in the same column – isn’t for the faint of heart – on either side of the keyboard.

But before I completely throw caution into the wind, in a mild effort to stave off my impending demise, let me clearly state that, between three years of COVID, watching our dysfunctional political system on full display, and the Bears going 3 and 14, I understand why we need a great feel-good story. And Buffalo Bill Damar Hamlin’s swift recovery from an on-field tackle instigated cardiac arrest certainly fits the bill.

I’m as thrilled as anyone that they brought Mr. Hamlin back from the dead, and even though I don’t want to rain on anyone’s endorphin-laced parade, I simply can’t let the bizarre mythos and absurd priorities that infuse this story go unanswered. It likely has something to do with angels, fools, and treading.

And it all starts with the basic understanding that Mr. Hamlin is neither victim nor hero.

Damar earned the rare privilege of getting paid a cool million a year to stop opposing behemoths from advancing down the field in as painful a manner as possible, and that prospect comes with a certain amount of risk. To wit, there’s a 44-millisecond interval within each heartbeat where getting hit in the chest can be fatal, so how is Hamlin a “hero” for running afoul of a very small, but predictable probability?

But as strange as that “logic” is, it pales in comparison to the self-aggrandizing and overly smug self-professed “Christians” who can’t wait to tell you Hamlin’s recovery is owed purely to “The glory of God!”

Really?

If that’s true, then we have to believe that God’s got nothing better to do than watch Thursday Night Football, and He’s likely a Bills or Bengals fan. And if He is responsible for pulling Mr. Hamlin out of the abyss, then isn’t He also responsible for putting him there? That means the only reasonable religious conclusion is that God struck him down just so He could be the hero by bringing him back.

And that sounds a lot more like Donald Trump than a supreme being.

What about the 12-year-old girl that died of cancer the same day? Or the father of three who was killed by a driver who ran a red light? Or the Virginia teacher who was shot and critically wounded by a first grader? At least Hamlin knew the inherent risks involved. Apparently, God was far too busy watching football to be bothered with those blameless folks.

Please tell me you see the absurdity in that utterly self-absorbed line of “thought.”

Then God was responsible for his miraculous recovery? Call me crazy, but I think that credit should go to those Bills’ trainers and the best medical team that NFL money can buy. They’re not heroes for performing their jobs exactly as they were trained to perform them, either. The fact that Hamlin’s a professional athlete in the prime of his life certainly had a bearing out the outcome, as well.

Of course, commissioner Roger Goodell and the NFL love this mob mania outpouring of support bordering on religious fervor because it fully detracts from the stark reality that professional football has become far too dangerous. Considering the size and speed of the average NFL “mutant,” I’m surprised this kind of thing doesn’t happen far more often.

He wasn’t involved in the play, but 6 foot four, 250-pound Bengals tight end Hayden Hurst has been clocked running downfield at 20.5 mph. That’s better than 10 yards a second. So, what does anyone think is going to happen when Mr. Hurst and an equally fast 200-pound safety collide at full speed? Certainly nothing good.

Of the plethora of serious injuries I could cite to support my point, the worst is Miami quarterback Tua Tagovailoa, who’s been placed in concussion protocols twice this season. And the only reason the NFL has a concussion protocol is the slew of former players who sued the league for having to endure permanent brain damage. Any reasonable MD will tell you that Tagovailoa should never play another down.

Worst yet, whenever I see former Bear standouts Mike Ditka and Dan Hampton try to simply walk, I can’t help but cringe – and they played in an era in which the average NFL lineman didn’t weigh an astounding 315 pounds.

The outpouring of support for Hamlin and his family has been amazing, but why are we lavishing it on someone who understood the risks and was paid commensurately? When was the last time we applauded the single mother who works two jobs to keep her family afloat. When will the President call to congratulate the former addict who successfully navigated Kane County drug court? When will pat those fine Elgin, Illinois, folks on the back for coming up with a real solution to the chronically homeless problem?

It’s not that one has to occur at the expense of the other, but that doesn’t begin to explain why the average American’s priorities can only be described as marvelously out of whack.

Whenever I challenge folks on the victim/hero dynamic, or that purported divine intervention, I get two responses. The first is, “I’m entitled to my opinion,” and the second is, “You believe what you want to believe, and I’ll believe what I want to believe.”

No! In the words of the great Harlan Ellison, “You are not entitled to your opinion (or belief). You are entitled to your informed opinion (or belief). No one is entitled to be ignorant.”

The truth is Hamlin’s neither victim nor hero, God had nothing to do with any of this, and the NFL really needs to come up with a way of better protecting their players before it becomes a gladiatorial blood sport.