AC05 - Death Mask (27 page)

She pushed back her chair and stood. ‘Of course, I won’t know for certain about CTE until I look at the brain histology and stains. I’ll leave you to decide how much you tell the family for now.’ She checked her watch and grabbed her coat. ‘I’m sorry, I’d love to take you to lunch, but I have a meeting with the mayor. An Islamic Moroccan tourist was killed in a hit and run, and the international media are suggesting it was racially motivated.’

As she left, Anya considered what she had just learnt. The game Peter Janson loved could have left him with brain damage, particularly to the frontal part of his brain. There were also additional effects of illegal steroids.

Lyle Buffet wanted his players to go in like warriors, tackle hard and push their bodies to their absolute physical limits. She had to wonder cynically whether minor brain damage made players easier to manipulate. The downside was frontal lobe injury
could make these men more violent, more prone to depression and drug addiction, aggressive and sexually uninhibited. Like Victor Frankenstein, the game’s powerbrokers produced their own monsters and set them loose onto the world. Nigel Everett had told the senate committee that it wasn’t the fault of the bad apples, but was the barrel that remained toxic. It was sounding more and more like he was right.

She wondered what role, if any, Gavin Rosseter and the other team doctor had in the steroid cover-up, and how much they played a part in creating unstoppable men who were likely to harm themselves or others.

If this news got out, not only would the reputations of Pete Janson and the Bombers be irrevocably damaged, but the entire league, worth eight billion dollars, would be in serious trouble. People had been murdered for a lot less.

A
fter a quick call, Doctor Harrison Leske met Anya in the foyer of the Medical Sciences Building. The Canadian neuropathologist was easy to spot. Over the phone, he described himself as of average height, thin and with Harry Potter glasses, although he wanted to make it clear his glasses preceded the boy wizard’s popularity.

In person, Leske looked exactly like the Harry Potter from the movies, only older and without the Hogwarts uniform.

‘Please, call me Harrison. I was thrilled to get Gail’s call about your visit. Do you mind if we talk on the move? Columbia University has agreed to let my team monitor impact to helmets during practice.’

Anya was grateful for any time he could offer at such short notice. ‘I’m not too familiar with CTE.’

He picked up a backpack and a briefcase. ‘No one is, which is why this research is so important. If you have the time, you’re more than welcome to come along. That way I can show you some of the data so far.’

If Anya were going to mention the possibility of Janson having CTE to the owners of his team, she needed to ensure she had all the facts straight. The more she knew, the better. ‘I’d appreciate that.’

They walked to a parking station facing First Avenue as students, professionals and tourists all hurried to wherever they were going. Leske unlocked a blue Prius and placed his bags on the back seat. Anya automatically headed to the left-hand side.

‘Unless you’d like to drive …’ he offered with a grin.

Anya blushed. ‘Force of habit.’

She sat in the passenger seat, still feeling awkward. At home, this was where the steering wheel would be. As they headed north, large drops of rain beaded on the windscreen.

‘The shower should pass,’ he said, stopping at a set of lights. ‘Even if it were snowing, practice would still be on.’

The thought of standing in the rain for the afternoon didn’t have much appeal, but if games were played in almost any conditions, there wasn’t really a choice. Thankfully, as Harrison had predicted, the sun reappeared just as they arrived at 218th Street.

‘Welcome to the Bronx,’ he said, seeming to enjoy being a tour guide. He turned into Baker Stadium and used a pass to access the parking.

After talking to a security guard, they headed towards the arena and were met on the field by a man who was enormous even by league standards. He had to be six foot seven or eight and was broader than any of the players she had seen so far. As he walked, his right hip rocked upward and the knee refused to bend. The depth of his voice was inversely proportional to his height.

The neuropathologist introduced him as Roman Bronstein.

‘Doctor Crichton is visiting from Australia and is interested in learning more about CTE while she’s here.’

‘Nice to have you with us. The more people who help get the word out, the better.’

Thankfully, Doctor Leske had not mentioned Pete Janson’s death as the trigger for her interest.

They headed towards a table full of equipment on the sideline, monitors and computers protected by a makeshift tarpaulin.

‘That knee playing up?’ Leske sounded genuinely concerned.

‘Not one of its better days.’ Bronstein gave it a rub. ‘That’s
what I get for all those years of prednisone injections just to get onto the field.’

The former player now had a fused knee, with minimal movement. The more Anya learnt about the medicine associated with professional sports, the more disillusioned she became with the doctors who worked in the field. Sucking trauma-related fluid from a knee joint then replacing it with powerful anti-inflammatory injections should never have been a routine treatment. No wonder this man’s knee was permanently damaged. She wondered if the players would consent to the treatments if they fully understood what would happen long-term. Then again, the money they were paid in their relatively short careers could set them up for life.

It wasn’t difficult to imagine professional athletes choosing successful careers, adulation, money and sponsorships over conservative medical treatments and shortened careers.

Two younger men adjusted wires attached to helmets. They were probably student research assistants. One flicked the hair from his eyes, which she assumed was his version of hello. The other looked up then returned to checking something on his computer.

Roman let out a rich, hearty chuckle. ‘Don’t say much, but they do come cheap.’

Harrison explained that Roman had started a foundation following the suicide of one of his former team mates. At post-mortem the friend was found to have had CTE.

‘We had never heard of it and no one imagined that all those times we got mild concussion were dangerous. If it was bad, we’d get scanned, go home and be back at practice the next day. A lot of the time we just played on. A couple of times I couldn’t remember what happened in the rest of the game. The body was working but the brain wasn’t. Looking back, it’s scary to have lost chunks of time.’

The sound of cleats on cement caught their attention.

‘The Lions are in the house,’ Roman announced.

Players straggled onto the field, all in padding. The research
assistants handed helmets to two players and assisted with doing them up.

‘We’re monitoring the amount of force that impacts have on the heads of each man on the field. There are six sensors inside every helmet. Using a system called HITS, we can measure the force and location of every blow to the head.’

From what she had seen, plays didn’t last long and teams were pulled off and substituted with changes of possession. She was curious to see how many impacts there were to each head. Presumably not that many.

Under the tarpaulin, Leske studied the monitors. ‘With each collision, we can map the spike and determine which positions encounter more head trauma, and who has the most significant force of trauma. So far, linemen seem to incur the most blows.’

Anya considered the amount of protective gear. ‘What about the effectiveness of the helmets? A lot of science has gone into making them absorb more force than they would have years ago.’

‘True,’ Leske said. ‘They are custom-sized. You have to put it in context. One player weighing, say, three hundred pounds sprints towards another, say, two-eighty, who is running at full force from the opposite direction.’ He arced his fists together to represent the players. ‘It’s a true head-on collision with massive impact. No helmet can offset that much force.’

Bronstein added, ‘Headgear was designed to help, but that just led to a more aggressive approach to butting heads and striking.’

And therefore, more dangerous play, with a false sense of safety. An image of bulls running at each other and clashing horns came into Anya’s mind.

The players warmed up, running around the field. Meanwhile, trainers set up equipment for drills and other exercises.

‘They’ll start with the blocking dummies, then move on to the sleds.’ Roman pointed to rows of blue foam cylinders attached to metal bases shaped like a sled. ‘That’s where they
work on using their hips to maximise power and drive through the opponent. After that, they’ll do game plays.’

The coach began yelling and trainers picked up foam shields as players ran at them. Anya noticed some had their heads down more than others as they made contact. The time passed quickly as they watched the university students throw themselves at makeshift barriers and push with all of their strength. What surprised Anya was the speed of many of the large young men.

‘Keep an eye on number sixteen,’ Leske said. ‘He just got a 95 g to the front of his head.’

Anya scanned the field. A trainer stood with a hand on one player’s shoulder, talking quietly before they both returned to their previous activities.

‘Are you measuring g-force?’ It was something she associated with space and air travel.

‘Imagine a car hitting a wall at twenty-five miles per hour. The driver isn’t wearing a seatbelt and his head hits the windscreen. The force of that impact would be around 100 g.’

The concept was horrifying. ‘The boy in the number sixteen jersey just had the equivalent of a head injury in a car accident and he got up and kept practising? How can that happen?’

Leske knitted his eyebrows. ‘Exactly. If he continues to function, it is considered a sub-concussive insult. What is significant is the cumulative effect of these incidents. If we continue to monitor him, we could easily find that even a glancing blow from an elbow could be enough to give him a serious concussion.’

Anya could not believe how casual the players and coaches were about head injuries. ‘Why doesn’t he just come off?’

Roman folded his arms. ‘It’s hard for someone outside the game to understand, but it’s what you do. If you can stand up and walk, even with a broken arm, you’re okay to play. You owe it to your team mates, coach and the fans. It’s like a war zone. Unless you are severely injured and incapable of playing, you have to keep fighting, no matter how many bruises you get.’

And keep taking it ‘for the team’, she thought. The difference here was that this was practice for a game. And bruises
don’t normally cause permanent brain damage or spinal cord injuries. She wondered how keen the players’ mothers would be if they appreciated the dangers involved.

A crunch of helmets echoed through the stadium, catching all of their attention. Anya winced again.

‘That’s 84 g to the top of seventy-six’s head,’ Leske confirmed, ‘and a 78 g to player eighteen.’

Roman qualified, ‘I’m not saying that’s right, but it is the most violent sport in the world. To keep going back on the field, players are conditioned from an early age to push their way through any obstacle, be that an opponent, pain or even a broken bone.

‘On the basis of some of our figures, we estimate that some linemen can be hit over a thousand times a season, counting practice and games. Over a career, that could be extremely debilitating. We used to think depression and alcohol and substance abuse after retirement were associated with loss of income, status and celebrity. These men are often untrained for any other job. Football’s been all they have known since they were kids. But our data suggests the game itself could be causing the depression, mood disorders and high-risk behaviour even after they stop playing.’

It made so much sense. Robert Keller’s drug overdose could have been related to more than an addiction to pain killers after an injury, even if the post-mortem didn’t show CTE. If he had lived, he could have been faced with severe dementia from an early age. With thousands of footballers playing in the league each year, the potential public health issue was enormous, and very costly in terms of medical care and loss of function and quality of life. She thought of Keller’s widow and young child.

Anya accepted the game was brutal, but she couldn’t think of any other legalised sport apart from boxing in which participants risked so much every time they took part. Even Roman Bronstein made the field sound like a war zone, but these were not soldiers fighting for their countries. If this sort of thing happened to animals, the public outcry would be deafening.

This game was played in schools, by children with brains that had not yet fully developed. Anya stood in silence as she digested the information and thought about the possibility of her own son wanting to play a contact sport.

Frontal lobe damage affected a person’s ability to make considered decisions, and lowered inhibition. If Peter Janson had endured fewer brain injuries, perhaps he would not have been as violent off the field. And perhaps Kirsten Byrne might not have suffered as a result. Robert Keller might still be alive to be a father to his child.

‘You wouldn’t do this to crash dummies,’ Anya said eventually. ‘You already know these collisions are harmful. In any other research, anything near these negative outcomes would mean ending the entire study.’

Leske took off the Harry Potter glasses and cleaned the lenses with a handkerchief. ‘Over a century ago, there was a move to ban football in Ivy League schools because it was thought to be a game of barbarism that was corrupting educational institutions. The movement came close to succeeding.’

‘And look at it today,’ Roman said. ‘It’s a massive industry that doesn’t count the money spent on medical bills for injuries. If we’re to stop the carnage to our boys, we’d better have some pretty convincing results to show the league.’

Leske took note of another collision. ‘Our findings will be controversial enough once they’re published. Doctors who treat the players are employed by the teams, so there is a conflict of interest right from the start.’ He looked out at the field.