When the news about Damar Hamlin broke a few weeks ago, it felt seismic.
Many, me included, wondered: Could this be it? Could this be enough to fracture the NFL’s grip on America?
The NFL’s record for deaths of retired players, of course, is widely known, but unremarkable to the public. The ravages of the game take time to reveal themselves—and even though the relationship between CTE and football is clear to many people, the gladiatorial nature of the sport retains plausible deniability to many. If it didn’t happen on the field, how is football responsible?
That deniability is impossible, obviously, in the case of a Damar Hamlin—a nearly-fatal on-field injury.
The episode confronted football fans with the sport’s violence and only the most cynical spectator could fail to see the ugly narrative:
Football is a violent sport that puts players at risk for our entertainment and the enrichment of owners and a growing number of financially-motivated parties.
It’s a tragic narrative, especially when you consider the racial disparity between these two groups, the role of the college-football-industrial-complex, and any other number of angles.
But it’s not the only truth here.
The other truth, evidenced by his appearance at the Super Bowl and on various media outlets, is that Damar Hamlin has made a remarkable recovery, and somehow retained his enthusiasm for the sport. So, a second—equally true—narrative emerges:
Damar Hamlin has made a remarkable recovery that demonstrates both his resilience and his love for the game.
I’m cynical about football, but not so cynical that I don’t see the magic of this narrative, down to Hamlin’s reported first question on regaining consciousness—Hollywood couldn’t have scripted it better—”Did we win?”
It’s not this second narrative that troubles me: it’s how this narrative has supplanted the other narrative. It’s how Hamlin’s recovery has been co-opted by the NFL as a brand management tactic, seized on his recovery as a counternarrative to the equally true narrative of (long-term) deadly violence that happens on football fields every day.
The NFL and the national media wants the name “Hamlin” to trigger nothing but warm and fuzzy feelings, a story of individual resilience.
The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposed ideas in the mind at the same time, and still retain the ability to function
F. Scott Fitzgerald
They recognize our broad inability to hold two truths at the same time—so they have presented us with an implicit choice—which truth do you want? The one that reminds you of your complicity in this system, or the one that makes you smile?
Taylor Coe 