Bet On It

The big story is the presidential debate, but not here.

Quarterback Jalen Hurts of the Philadelphia Eagles enters the field prior to an NFL football game against the Green Bay Packers in Sao Paulo, Brazil.

This is written hours before Kamala Harris and the convict square off in Philadelphia. There is not much uncertainty about what will take place. Harris will lay out her program and bait Trump into losing his shit. Trump will lie and lose his shit.

This foregone conclusion will be exhaustively documented by approximately every reporter and pundit within reach of a microphone or keyboard, so — just this once — I’ll stand down. Instead, because we have just seen the first week of the NFL season, it’s time for my annual screed about how grotesque that institution is. (Spoiler alert: Ungodly grotesque.)

This exercise always leaves me conflicted, because I never miss a Philadelphia Eagles game and haven’t for about 60 years. Professional football is a gladiator sacrifice, yes, but also an exciting spectacle, which I succumb to between 17 and 20 times a year because my addiction is stronger than my principles. Much stronger. I’m pathetic. A hypocrite. Someone with insufficient moral fiber in my diet.

My name is Bob, and I am a weakling.

But not so craven as to stop noticing the things that make the NFL the ISIS of professional sports. Before the first regular season kickoff, the league’s 32 teams had already amassed 105 players out for the entire 2024-25 season with injuries. They were lost at training camp to major orthopedic trauma. For Game 2 of the season, three of 32 starting quarterbacks will be too hurt to play.

Last season, there were just under 1,000 regular-season injuries that cost players time, in a league with active rosters totaling 1,696 players. The Cleveland Browns lost their star quarterback, star running back, star cornerback, both starting offensive tackles and two other starters for the season, seven of their 22 starting players.

Football injuries that afflict high-profile athletes like the Browns’ Deshaun Watson and Nick Chubb — or this year Vikings rookie quarterback J.J. McCarthy — get a lot of attention. Less so the seven Miami Dolphins lost to the roster already this season before opening kickoff.

Wyatt Ray, Kion Smith, Cam Brown, Grayson Murphy, Anthony Schwartz, Ryan Hayes and Braylon Sanders don’t get the thoughts-and-prayers treatment on NFL Sunday Countdown. They get shaded because they “can’t stay healthy” or fall prey to “the injury bug.”

It isn’t a virus. It is a conspiracy of malign indifference, hatched in full view by the NFL, owners, coaches, the ravenous Sports-Media Complex and viewers like me. They all supply because we all demand.

We countenance it because we rationalize the perversity away. Aren’t they professionals who often achieve fame and fortune? Here’s $7 million; your job is to play Russian roulette on national TV. Many of these injuries doom a career. All of them, along with the other damages accumulated since pee-wee sports, doom the athlete to lifelong pain, immobility and disability.

Last season, there were 219 concussions, which often mean missing only a game or two but which have been shown to lead to irreversible Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy. That is brain damage, leading variously to early onset dementia, psychosis, suicide and other premature deaths. In week one, before the injury reports are filed for next week’s games, at least four players went down with concussions.

Go Birds!

Speaking of … they played their first game against the Green Bay Packers in Sao Paolo, Brazil. It’s part of the NFL’s longstanding effort to grow fan bases — i.e., sell TV rights and team jerseys — in markets abroad. This means the Packers were subjected to 11-hour flights each way for the opportunity to play on a slippery, substandard field, after being warned to stay close to their hotels lest they become victims of crime. The Eagles had only a 10-hour flight, but star cornerback Darius Slay was angry about security issues.

“I do not want to go to Brazil,” he said. “You want to know why? I’m going to tell you why. They already told us not to leave the hotel. They told us we can’t do too much going on, because the crime rate is crazy. I’m like ‘NFL, why would you want to send us somewhere with a crime rate this high?’” A day later, the NFL forced him to apologize.

Because there was lots of money on the line. And, once again, speaking of … betting on football, until recently illegal in every U.S. state but Nevada, is now legal in 39. That is repulsive. First of all, though not the de facto regressive tax on the poor that state lotteries are, sports betting has all the pathologies inherent in other gambling. It is harmless fun for most bettors, and a destroyer of families for many others. But there is also the matter of killing the goose that lays the golden egg. Prior to broad legalization, the NFL was steadfastly against sports betting, because of the obvious risks of corrupt bettors paying players to fix games and the pall of suspicion surrounding every unlucky bounce of the ball. Of course, in those days, Las Vegas and the mafia didn’t share the wealth with the league. Now the NFL is an official partner of DraftKings, FanDuel and Caesars Entertainment sports books. Which means the league owns a slice of the $11 billion industry. Integrity of the game? How silly.

I mentioned the big players in the sports-betting industry, but this week we’ve been inundated with ads for a new one. It’s called ESPN Bet, which in a licensing agreement not only carries the brand of the preeminent cable-sports channel, but will feature bookmaker odds and other betting information (including injuries!) in ESPN content. “Finally a sports book from your favorite sports brand!” the ads exclaim.

Finally the channel’s NFL broadcast contract is complemented with a deal to skim the NFL betting pool. Finally we have the axis of corporate evil, since ESPN is owned by the Walt Disney Company.

The mission of The Walt Disney Company is to entertain, inform and inspire people around the globe through the power of unparalleled storytelling.

The mission statement will require some editing. Maybe a line about “beating the spread.” Meanwhile, if we’re discussing pathos, addiction and moral bankruptcy, possibly I myself am not the biggest problem here. Oh, I’m still a weakling. No doubt about that. But at least I’m not a heartless fucking profiteer.