Football’s reckoning with brain injuries

He was not a familiar name. But if you followed the NFL in the early 1980s, you knew the name Tommy Vigorito.

He was a legend of the All-America school parade of North Jersey, wrapping them while his little Catholic school fought teams in one of the most revered conferences of the state. It was before parish schools went crazy and separated, with their national schedule and their own version of the free agency (recruitment of transfers) after each season. He pulled them from small towns from Sparta to Pompton lakes. It was football in high school by Norman Rockwell.

He became a star at the UVA and the subject of an auction war when the LCF Montreal Alouettes clashed with the Miami dolphins for his talents. In many ways, it was the first indication that money would explode when, in fact, there was unhindered competition for the services of a player.

And he has always been worthy of – in Coachespeak – the ultimate compliment. He was a player.

He became the first recruit from Gale Sayers to mark a touch in three different ways – Return to kick, reception, run from the fray. His 87 yards released, a hit against the Pittsburgh Steelers on one of ABC’s first “Thursday evening football” television on Thursday, quickly became a classic Howard Cosell call.

Don Shula loved him, and he was a key momentum for the renowned temple coach to abandon the pounds and football on the ground and embracing the broadcast – creating roofing match nightmares. That, and the editorial staff of Dan Marino.

He underwent a worst knee injury ever seen by the Dolphins’ medical staff during the opening match of his third season, at the end of another of his long patented yields of covers of clearance – a rod of 62 against the Bills in Buffalo.

His career ended shortly after. He became vice-president of Wall Street and lent his name to many philanthropic causes along the way.

Last May, he died almost certainly wreaking havoc of chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) after several years of physical and mental misery. No one from the NFL offices has made the 18 -mile trip to North Jersey to attend his commemorative services, even after being personally invited. Tommy Vigorito was 65 years old.

On Monday, a crazy shooter attacked the office building housing the NFL with an AR-15 assault rifle, killing four, including a heroic member of the NYPD. The killer failed to enter the NFL offices, but carried with him a handwritten note saying that the cause of his actions was CTE. Then he put a fatal turn in his own chest, leaving his whole brain, to examine – the only way that the CTE can be proven unequivocal.

Immediately, the PR football machine began to turn – by putting it there that the killer has never played pro or university football, only the high school. Was the killer just a crazy? In doing so, the Pandora box was wide open.

As an agent of Vigorito, I saw each of his NFL games – there were sections – some because of his insassiveness – where he was never approached. The brain violence he suffered occurred well before his stay in the NFL. Lycée football, then university, has certainly wreaked havoc.

And I can tell you that some of the most difficult successes I have ever taken with football, in a career that took place until serious university competition, occurred in primary school. You don’t forget to have your bell.

The CTE has no calendar, no borders. I spent his day of NFL draft with the bear from Chicago Dave Duerson, a member of the Board of Directors of the NFL and victim of the CTE who came across his own weapon. I saw in the first hand the volatility of the victim of the possible suicide of the CTE Andre Waters, almost coming with him in the locker room in the early 1990s. The mad killer on Monday referred to the former Steeler Terry Long, a victim of the CTE who committed suicide by lowering the Antigel.

The killer was born 14 years after Vigorito affected a football for the last time in the NFL. He was refused access to the interior sanctuary of the NFL. But the most vile killer was already there. Football head injuries have produced a conga line in Punchdrunk Beautiful Jacks. The majority of these cases, especially those who played in the 80s and 90s, hit the league and beyond like a tidal raz.

The battle against the CTE – of people like Chris Nowinski of the concussion of the University of Boston and others like him – must be supported without compromise and kissed on all football platforms if this tide must be drawn.

We cannot wait.

Marotta is a filmmaker and writer.