On Thursday, Sept. 29, the Miami Dolphins, playing on just three days’ rest, suited up to take on the Cincinnati Bengals. With five minutes left in the third quarter, Dolphins quarterback Tua Tagovailoa was sacked. He didn’t get up; he was rendered immobile, fingers bent, forming every possible angle — eyes unblinking, staring at the sky above. He was taken off the field minutes later and strapped into a stretcher. 

At just 24 years old, this season was supposed to be Tagovailoa’s chance to prove to the Dolphins that he could be “The Franchise Guy” for years to come. Under the bright lights of Paycor Stadium, those aspirations froze. 

I love sports. I love how they suck me into a fantasy world where I only care about people putting a ball in a net or hitting it into the bleachers of a stadium. Sports are an escape for me. I don’t have to think — I just feel. The adrenaline rush before a buzzer-beater goes in, or joy that comes when my team wins on a walk-off home. I still tear up watching clips of the 2019 Nationals winning the World Series (I am a diehard Nats fan). 

Football is a little different. Don’t get me wrong — the game is super entertaining. The deep throws, incredible runs, and pick-sixes within a football game enthrall me. The physical ability of the players is jaw-dropping. The issue is that football, more than any other sport, ruins the illusion. It makes me think about the world outside of sports for all the wrong reasons. 

The illusion is frequently shredded by injury when I watch football. Routinely watching players get carted off the field reminds me that they are not names on a fantasy team, but human beings with families and futures. The NFL consistently keeps fans in the dark when it comes to injuries. They prefer to barely acknowledge what happened to keep the season chugging along, preserve the illusion of entertainment, and keep the money rolling in. On Thursday the 29th, they couldn’t hide the impact of this injury in the darkness of a locker room or hospital. 

And worse, they failed to do so four days earlier. On Sunday, Sept. 25, in a game against the division rival Buffalo Bills, Tagovailoa suffered from a brutal head injury. Sacked, he rose to his feet shakily before almost collapsing like a rag doll once again, helped up by one of his teammates and leaning on him until he fully regained consciousness. The Dolphin’s medical staff determined he was able to play in the second half of what became a Dolphin victory. The NFL did nothing. Tagovailoa never entered concussion protocol and was deemed clear to play in the Thursday night game four days later. 

Watching Tagovailoa play felt like watching a cow being unknowingly led to the slaughter. The injury was inevitable, and — now suffering from significant neurological damage — it is unclear if he will play football again.  

This event forced me to examine my role as a football fan, engaging with and enjoying a sport that has led to countless cases of Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE) and other brutal on-field injuries (just google “Alex Smith, Joe Theismann hit”). A sport led by an organization that blackballs players who kneel for the National Anthem while turning a blind eye to those who commit sexual assault (sometimes standing by as they sign contracts upwards of $200 million, *cough* Deshaun Watson *cough*); has racist hiring practices; and always convinces fans to look the other way when a player’s future gets blown up by a tackle. 

Despite all of this, I will likely watch football this Sunday. The entertainment of the game and its presentation will cover up the shadows cast by the NFL. It will, however, be harder for me to slip into the illusion. It will feel a bit less like a game and more like watching 22 men push themselves beyond physical limits and risk their health — all for my weekend entertainment. Thousands cheered in Ancient Rome every time the gladiators battled to the death. Every Sunday, millions gather to watch football, knowing that a player’s life could be entirely changed by injury. 

The NFL could say they are sharing all the information they can and taking the necessary steps to preserve player safety above all; however, that message will always fall on deaf ears. What happened to Tagovailoa is emblematic of the NFL — turning a blind eye to the real impacts of football while continuing to promote the glitz and glam of a violent game. All the rule changes and statements about player safety are just a ruse. A ruse to get people like me to keep watching.

I know that when I watch football I am making a morally reprehensible decision, but at this point, watching football has become so baked into our society that it doesn’t feel like that. I am just doing what everyone else is doing: going with the flow, even if it leads me in the wrong direction. Who’s to say Tagovailoa isn’t doing the same? After the game, he flew back to Miami on the team plane. The organization’s culture revolves around him playing football again, similar to how our weeks are marked by the games played every Sunday. 

For better or worse (definitely worse) the NFL is a part of society. The illusion is all-powerful. It continues to draw us in each week, causing us to forget about the real impact this sport can have. Preserving this illusion is all that matters. It will be why Tagovailoa plays in an NFL game much sooner than he should, and why I will likely be watching when he does.