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I never want to see Tua Tagovailoa on a soccer field again. I wish he would announce his retirement soon after this recent concussion. And with his loving and growing family by his side, I hope he will say something like how he wants his little boys to grow up and live happily ever after in Hawaii, just like he promised his grandfather Has .
I would prefer that option – Tua stands up and then walks away – rather than continuing the series of horrific scenes we’ve seen over the past four years. His hip out of place and his nose bloody and broken when he was carted away as a college quarterback. The back of his head slammed into the grass and stumbled on shaky legs as a starter for the Miami Dolphins that season. Then, just four days later, his fingers twisted and twisted grotesquely, his brain and body reacting to another vicious blow.
He should leave the game while he can. Many of us seem to agree on this matter – wanting the best for Tua and believing we know what’s best for him.
So from our keyboards we broadcast our diagnoses for his recent head trauma as well as our plans for his future. The words “tua” and “retirement” have gained prominence on Twitter. Analysts at the television studios have offered definitive next steps for the Dolphins and Tagovailoa, their franchise quarterback, who was selected as the fifth overall pick in the 2020 draft. This week, former NFL player Emmanuel Acho, who preached while staring into an FS1 camera, even attempted to speak directly to Tagovailoa.
“Tua, you are the only one living in your own head,” Acho said. “Tua, your health can’t be more important to us than you. Your friends can’t do that. Your family can’t do that. The NFL won’t do it, and your team can’t. Therefore, at this moment, I am appealing to Tua to prioritize your health, safety and well-being.”
The debate surrounding Tagovailoa’s health is another reminder of the delicate transactions between the athlete in the arena and the fan on the couch. We invest our time, money and passion in our favorite games and the people who play them, and in return we believe we deserve a little ownership. Our opinion rules.
On Sundays, everyone’s an expert, quizzing a trainer when he’s attempting the fourth down — and then tarting and bouncing him when he doesn’t. We still make our voices heard every other day of the week, including on matters off the field and in other people’s lives.
We have made it our mission to educate athletes about their behavior: how they tweet or how they vent, how they celebrate or how they protest. But even when the loud admonitions come from a purer place—like a desire to protect a young man who recently welcomed a child into this world with his wife—that doesn’t make moralizing any less complicated.
There’s a belief that our opinions should count when it comes to Tua’s personal agency over his body and career, that we kind of know what’s best for him. But why? Simply because we winced when a Buffalo Bills defender threw Tagovailoa to the ground like a doll that’s lost its stuffing, and we prefer not to feel so uncomfortable again while enjoying our conversation? Or because we scrolled down a few tweets from a neuroscientist’s timeline or read a few lines from an article on head injuries and now feel informed enough to share our medical expertise?
The hard part is we’re right. Tagovailoa’s future is more important than the Dolphins’ playoff hopes. And even without a medical degree, the general public knows enough about the mysteries and dangers of concussion and how multiple head injuries can lead to long-term problems. But if Tagovailoa, who won’t play the New England Patriots on Sunday, decides to rest this week, then clears the concussion record and reports back under center this season, we might cringe but should still respect his decision.
Football remains a violent sport, often played by volunteers. Tagovailoa is just one of millions who have raised their hands and embraced the sport. And he kept coming back.
In his documentary Tua, he casually recalled the November 2019 injury he sustained as a star quarterback for Alabama. Though ‘Bama led by 28 points, Tagovailoa was still on the field in the third quarter against Mississippi State when he was forced out of the pocket and knocked down by two tacklers.
“I couldn’t tell what was going on. I think my body was just so shocked I can’t remember what was going on at the time,” Tagovailoa said.
Since then, he’s grown into one of the best young quarterbacks in the NFL. We’ve seen him thrive this year, with a mastermind trainer on his ear and sporting receivers in his huddle. But we also saw the punches. So many brutal ones that Tagovailoa has become the tortured and dazed face of NFL convulsions. Every time he’s out there and scores another goal, we wonder why he’s still playing.
I never want to see Tua Tagovailoa play football again. It would be great if he chose to live a happy and healthy life far from more head injuries. But I try to remember that his autonomy in terms of his career is more important than my opinion. While I hope Tua goes away on his own, he should be empowered to go his own way.
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