It all happened in a flash. One second I am trying to process my next move in the extremely high paced four to five second that is a play, and the next the world is inexplicably lit up as if I was staring directly into the sun. I try to blink the light away, figuring that I was just seeing spots like everyone does. But this light is much more intense. And this moment is not fleeting.

I somehow find my way to my teammates in our huddle, and manage to finish out the rest of our team’s series, still barely able to see through the piercing light. I struggle to make it to the sideline, not knowing how lucky I was to not have been dealt another blow to the head. At this point some of my teammates understand I am not in a good state, tipped off by my inquisitions into why the stadium lights are so bright and demands for someone to turn them down.

After an examination (a flashlight in my eyes, very pleasant), I am taken to the locker room where I would spend an extended period of time on the floor with a towel over my face. That towel would remain over my head for the drive home, and up until I lay in bed and can cover my head with something else. During this time, I have little to no idea where I am or why all of this is happening. Mostly, I just hope this will all be over soon.

Unfortunately, football players everywhere have not been as lucky as me, only having to deal with the horror of one concussion. Nowadays, the caution taken with head injuries is as extreme as ever, and for good reason. The phrase “getting your bell rung” has been virtually wiped away from the game. Players are required to take tests prior and subsequent to concussions, and are held out until even the slightest ill effects of the injury have subsided. While these steps have helped, there is no ultimate solution.

Football is not a safe game. No person in their right mind who has ever played or watched would think it is. And as more parents begin to realize the dangers of putting their children on the gridiron, the number of youth football players around the country continues to drop. While this decrease used to make me angry at parents who would take away the child’s choice of whether or not to play, my opinion has changed. The thought of possibly having a son wanting to play football scares me. Would I really want to put my son in immediate danger or at least much more danger than if maybe he played another sport? But would I also want to withhold him from a game that shaped me into the person I am today?

I loved every minute of football and miss it dearly. There was no way I was going to be told that I could not play due to safety reasons. But in that vein, I knew what I was getting myself into, and I knew that I was the one who held the key that would get me out of the game. So while I would never quit myself, I have immense respect for those who would decide to leave on their own terms. There is no hiding the risk of playing anymore, and if that outweighs one’s desire to play, so be it.