Too Many Hits

Wyatt Bramwell dreamed of playing football at the University of Missouri and in the N.F.L. He started young—flag football in kindergarten and tackle football in third grade.

But in the months before his death in 2019, at age 18, Wyatt’s behavior started to change. He could be angry and unpredictable—“unrecognizable,” says his father, Bill Bramwell. “And unfortunately, we couldn’t recognize possibly what was happening with him until it was too late.”

One day, Wyatt sat in his car and recorded a video message for his parents.

“I’ve been depressed for a long time,” he said. “My head is pretty messed up and damaged.” And he attributed his suffering to the game he loved. “I took a lot of hits through football. A lot of hits through football. I took a lot of concussions. And a lot of times I never told anybody how I was feeling in my head after a hit. I kind of just kept playing.”

Minutes later, Wyatt took his own life.

His dad and mom, Christie Bramwell, have since learned that their son suffered from advanced C.T.E.—chronic traumatic encephalopathy—a degenerative brain disease that research has linked to repeated hits to the head (see “What Is C.T.E.?,” below). And they’re not alone among families of young athletes.

Wyatt and 151 other young contact-sport athletes, both men and women, were part of a recent study at Boston University (B.U.), the first of its kind on C.T.E. in athletes who died before turning 30. Like the other families who participated, Wyatt’s parents donated their son’s brain. Of the 152 athletes studied, 63—more than 40 percent—had C.T.E. Of those, 48 played football, most of them at no higher than the high school or college level. The main sports for the other athletes who had C.T.E. included hockey, soccer, and wrestling.

Researchers conducted the study as part of a larger one at B.U. that also identified more than a hundred deceased former N.F.L. players who had C.T.E.

The growing body of knowledge about what contact sports can do to the brain has presented many parents with a difficult choice of whether or not to let their children participate.

“There’s a lot of [misconceptions] around youth tackle football,” Bill Bramwell says. “‘If you don’t start them soon enough, they’re going to get left behind. Then are they going to be as competitive?’ Full disclosure: I bought into some of that.”

Wyatt Bramwell was young when he started playing football: flag football in kindergarten and tackle football in third grade.

He dreamed of playing for the University of Missouri and in the N.F.L.

But in the months before his death in 2019, at age 18, Wyatt’s behavior started to change. He could be angry and unpredictable—“unrecognizable,” says his father, Bill Bramwell. “And unfortunately, we couldn’t recognize possibly what was happening with him until it was too late.”

One day, Wyatt recorded a video message for his parents.

“I’ve been depressed for a long time,” he said. “My head is pretty messed up and damaged.”

He blamed his suffering on the game he loved. “I took a lot of hits through football. A lot of hits through football. I took a lot of concussions. And a lot of times I never told anybody how I was feeling in my head after a hit. I kind of just kept playing.”

Minutes later, Wyatt took his own life.

His parents have since learned that their son suffered from advanced C.T.E.—chronic traumatic encephalopathy. It’s a degenerative brain disease that research has linked to repeated hits to the head (see “What Is C.T.E.?”).

Wyatt and 151 other young contact-sport athletes, both men and women, were part of a recent study at Boston University (B.U.). It was the first of its kind on C.T.E. in athletes who died before turning 30. Like the other families who participated, Wyatt’s parents donated their son’s brain. Of the 152 athletes studied, 63—more than 40 percent—had C.T.E. Of those, 48 played football, most of them at no higher than the high school or college level. The main sports for the other athletes who had C.T.E. included hockey, soccer, and wrestling.

Researchers conducted the study as part of a larger one at B.U. that also identified more than a hundred deceased former N.F.L. players who had C.T.E.

The growing body of knowledge about what contact sports can do to the brain has presented many parents with a difficult choice: Should they let their children participate in contact sports?

“There’s a lot of [misconceptions] around youth tackle football,” Bill Bramwell says. “‘If you don’t start them soon enough, they’re going to get left behind. Then are they going to be as competitive?’ Full disclosure: I bought into some of that.”

Researchers have posited for years that the more hits to the head a player receives—even if they don’t result in a concussion—the more likely that person is to develop cognitive and neurological problems later in life.

The B.U. study added a critical wrinkle: A player’s chances of developing C.T.E.—with symptoms such as memory loss, impulsive behavior, depression, and suicidal thoughts—depend not only on the number of hits to the head but also on the cumulative impact of all those hits.

That could make the risk greatest for those who start playing tackle football as young as 7 or 8, when the neck can’t brace for a fall to the ground, never mind a clash of helmets. Experts advise parents to wait as long as possible before introducing their children to this version of the sport.

“It is no longer debatable whether or not there is a problem in football,” says Ann McKee, the neuropathologist who led the B.U. team. “There is a problem.”

Worries about the future of youth football have mounted for years. So much so that U.S.A. Football, the national governing body for amateur football, has introduced rules to limit contact in the youth game, including making the field smaller, eliminating kickoffs and punts, and having players start each play in a crouch instead of in a traditional three-point stance.

Researchers have theorized for years that the more hits to the head a player receives, the more likely that person is to develop cognitive and neurological problems later in life. The hits may never have resulted in a concussion.

The B.U. study added a critical finding. A player’s chances of developing C.T.E. depend not only on the number of hits to the head but also on the cumulative impact of all those hits. Symptoms of C.T.E. include memory loss, impulsive behavior, depression, and suicidal thoughts.

The risk may be the greatest for those who start playing tackle football as young as 7 or 8, when the neck can’t brace for a fall to the ground, never mind a clash of helmets. Experts advise parents to wait as long as possible before introducing their children to this version of the sport.

“It is no longer debatable whether or not there is a problem in football,” says Ann McKee, the neuropathologist who led the B.U. team. “There is a problem.”

Worries about the future of youth football have mounted for years. So much so that USA Football, the national governing body for amateur football, has introduced rules to limit contact in the youth game. Changes include making the field smaller, eliminating kickoffs and punts, and having players start each play in a crouch instead of in a traditional three-point stance.

Even the N.F.L., which sees youth football as a way to develop future fans and pro players, has lately steered children away from the regular form of the sport, encouraging safer tackling methods and promoting flag football.

But for families who have lost their sons to C.T.E., the choice of what kind of football they played, or whether they played at all, has long passed.

“If we had the knowledge today, Hunter would never have played football—period,” says Bill Foraker, who donated his son’s brain to be studied. Hunter Foraker died in 2017, by suicide, at age 25. “If I have a grandson, he will not play football,” Bill Foraker says. “It’s not worth the risk.”

The N.F.L. sees youth football as a way to develop future fans and pro players. To protect players, the league has begun encouraging safer tackling methods and promoting flag football.

But for families who’ve lost their sons to C.T.E., the choice of what kind of football they played, or whether they played at all, has long passed.

“If we had the knowledge today, Hunter would never have played football—period,” says Bill Foraker, who donated his son’s brain to be studied. Hunter Foraker died in 2017, by suicide, at age 25. “If I have a grandson, he will not play football,” Foraker says. “It’s not worth the risk.”

The choice comes down to the question: Is the risk worth the reward? There’s a line between the love of a game and the dangers it presents, and even those who have lost a child can’t agree where that line is.

Wyatt’s mom, Christie Bramwell, says that if she could do it again, she would let her son play tackle football.

“He loved it,” she says. “I wouldn’t want to take that away from him.”

Many parents agree. In a recent University of Maryland/Ipsos poll, 78 percent of parents of children under 18 said they believed playing football was dangerous, yet 61 percent said they’d let their children play tackle football if they wanted to, in spite of the risk.

The sport comes with its rewards: camaraderie, physical fitness, a sense of community. In some places, parents may worry their child will be ostracized for not playing.

The choice comes down to the question: Is the risk worth the reward? There’s a line between the love of a game and the dangers it presents. But even those who have lost a child can’t agree where that line is.

Wyatt’s mom, Christie Bramwell, says that if she could do it again, she would let her son play tackle football.

“He loved it,” she says. “I wouldn’t want to take that away from him.”

Many parents agree. In a recent University of Maryland/Ipsos poll, 78 percent of parents of children under 18 said they believed playing football was dangerous. Despite the risk, 61 percent said they’d let their children play tackle football.

The sport comes with its rewards, including camaraderie, physical fitness, and a sense of community. In some places, parents worry their child may feel left out for not playing.

Football is laced into the cultural soul of America. Lives spin around the sport: afternoon practices, Friday night games, weekends spent huddled around televisions. The clash of helmets and pads is part of the competion, and kids are expected to tough it out.

Hunter Foraker got his first helmet and jersey at age 2 and started playing tackle football by age 7. In his sophomore year of high school, he suffered a concussion during a game.

“His pediatrician looked him over,” says Bill Foraker. “His comments were like, ‘Hunter, you’re a big kid, you’re tough. You got your bell rung. Go get ‘em. You’re going to be an All-American.’”

Just how many times he got his “bell rung” no one can know. Kim Foraker keeps her son’s youth football helmet. It’s scraped and dented, the face mask chipped away in places.

“It’s had some hits on it,” she says.

There’s still a lot to learn about C.T.E. and its onset. Who gets it, who doesn’t, and why? How many blows to the head must occur, and at what levels, for the disease to take hold? Research hasn’t pinpointed the exact chances of developing C.T.E.

Football is part of the cultural soul of America. Lives spin around the sport: afternoon practices, Friday night games, weekends spent huddled around televisions. The clash of helmets and pads is part of the competition. Kids are expected to tough it out.

Hunter Foraker got his first helmet and jersey at age 2. He started playing tackle football by age 7. In his sophomore year of high school, he suffered a concussion during a game.

“His pediatrician looked him over,” says Bill Foraker. “His comments were like, ‘Hunter, you’re a big kid, you’re tough. You got your bell rung. Go get ’em. You’re going to be an All-American.’”

Just how many times he got his “bell rung” no one can know. Kim Foraker keeps her son’s youth football helmet. It’s scraped and dented, the face mask chipped away in places.

“It’s had some hits on it,” she says.

There’s still a lot to learn about C.T.E. and how it starts. Who gets it, who doesn’t, and why? How many blows to the head must occur and at what levels? Research hasn’t pinpointed the exact chances of developing C.T.E.

For some players, maybe most, the hits may never add up to anything serious, or maybe not for many years.

George Atkinson III and his twin brother, Josh, started playing tackle football at age 10 and went on to play for the University of Notre Dame. Both died by suicide—Josh in 2018, at age 26, and George at 27, less than a year later. It was through the B.U. study that their father, George Atkinson II, found out they both had C.T.E.

The senior Atkinson, a former Oakland Raiders defensive back known as the Hit Man, hopes his participation in the study will further efforts to protect young athletes. But he doesn’t regret letting his sons play the game.

“I let my kids make their choices,” he says. “When you go into the sport, you go into it knowing that you could be injured. You could be injured for life. It’s a choice you make based on a love of the game.”

For some players, maybe most, the hits may never add up to anything serious, or maybe not for many years.

George Atkinson III and his twin brother, Josh, started playing tackle football at age 10 and went on to play for the University of Notre Dame. Both died by suicide—Josh in 2018, at age 26, and George at 27, less than a year later. It was through the B.U. study that their father, George Atkinson II, found out they both had C.T.E.

The senior Atkinson was a former Oakland Raiders defensive back who was known as the Hit Man. He hopes his participation in the study will further efforts to protect young athletes. But he doesn’t regret letting his sons play the game.

“I let my kids make their choices,” he says. “When you go into the sport, you go into it knowing that you could be injured. You could be injured for life. It’s a choice you make based on a love of the game.”