The Pregnant Lineman

Brain damage isn’t the only way that football can kill you.  In 2010 the highly-esteemed New England Journal of Medicine published a study relating obesity to the risk of death within ten years.  The study only looked at non-smoking white males, but it is certainly reasonable to assume that similar trends exist among non-white males.

The study used Body Mass Index (BMI) to evaluate individual’s weights; the BMI essentially measures a person’s mass relative to the square of their height, on the assumption that a taller person will weigh more than a shorter person with an identical build. 

Individuals with abnormal BMI’s had higher risks of death.  Individuals with very high BMI’s had much higher risks of death.

Whenever someone suggests that football’s emphasis on producing morbidly obese players might constitute an unwise health risk, the NFL goes to great lengths to dispute the use of BMI as a measure of obesity.  They will contend that because football players have “athletic” builds and very high strength levels, their inflated BMI’s are not nearly as dangerous as those achieved by non-athletes.

The NFL’s objections are wrong-headed on two accounts.  First, although it is always healthier to be active than inactive at any given BMI, many of the health issues associated with obesity affect individuals regardless of whether the weight is muscle or fat.  Abnormally high BMI’s are dangerous even if the individual is carrying around lots of muscle instead of lots of fat.

Second, there are not many 300-pound lineman in the NFL who are anything resembling lean.  Very few are carrying around 8% body fat—or even 18% body fat. 

Want proof?  According to the World Health Organization, body fat percentages for males between the ages of twenty and forty ought to be no higher than 19%.  According to a 2005 study by the Journal of Strength and Conditioning Research, the average offensive lineman’s body fat percentage was 25%.  With an average weight of 308 pounds, that means your typical NFL lineman was carrying around an extra 18.5 pounds of blubber. 

This is about how much a doctor would like to see the average American woman gain. 

During pregnancy.  

Morbidity

So, NFL players are too fat—or at least, many NFL players are too fat, particularly offensive linemen.  Is that the end of the world?

It could very well be the end of theirs.  That study by the New England Journal of Medicine found that obesity significantly increases the chances of dying within ten years, and morbid obesity really increases the odds of death.  For individuals who are only slightly overweight (with a BMI of 25.0-27.4) the odds of dying within ten years are only about 1%.  For those who are obese (BMI’s between 30 and 34.9), the chances rise to about 1.4%.  But for those who are morbidly obese (BMI’s 35-39.9), the risk jumps to 2%, and when the BMI to 40-49.9, the odds of dying within ten years are essentially 3%.

Grave and spoon.

Obese people were 40% more likely to die than those who were simply overweight.  Morbidly obese people were 100% more likely to die, and super obese people were three times as likely to die—even when compared with overweight individuals.

Connect the dots.

We have made a national religion of a sport that rewards and glorifies obesity.  Across America, thousands of young men—virtually none of whom are underweight, and many of whom are already so heavy that they put their health at risk—are being asked to pack on the pounds.

This is a travesty.  A coach who asks an overweight young man to become even fatter ought to be decried as abusive.  Instead, our culture glorifies and rewards these coaches—we are willing to sacrifice the health of young people so that they can help move that oddly shaped inflated bladder more effectively. 

In 2009, I read an article by Mike Herndon, a journalist with the Press-Register in Mobile, Alabama.  He wrote about the “success” the Auburn Tigers had in identifying players who would be able to gain weight.  Knowing the impact of obesity on life expectancy, his examples sound downright macabre:

Spencer Johnson once weighed 240 pounds; his BMI was 30 and his odds of dying in the next ten years were only 1.3 percent.  Auburn got him up to 291 pounds and a BMI of 36.4; his odds of dying in the next ten years increased to 1.9 percent—and increase in his risk of death of about 46%.  Success!

Jay Ratliff came to Auburn weighing 230 pounds with a BMI of 28.  He had about a one-in-a-hundred chance of dying in the next ten years.  He went on to play for the Dallas Cowboys at 300 pounds with a BMI of 36.5.  For his efforts, he increased his odds of death by 66%.  All right!

Sen’Derrick Marks owes fair Auburn for increasing his risk of death by 37%.  Over at Alabama, they made Evan Mathis 40% more likely to die, Chris Samuels 42% more likely to die, and Jay Ratliff 52% more likely to die. 

Things are even more grotesque in the professional game.  The Green Bay Packers wanted nosetackle Howard Green to play at 360 pounds, with a BMI of 46.2. 

I am 6’2” and weigh 180 pounds.  My BMI is 23.1; within the normal range, but not exactly underweight.  I have about a 0.8% chance of dying in the next ten years.  They are asking Howard Green to weigh twice as much as I do, and to have a risk of dying of approximately 3.1%; compared to me, he’s almost four times as likely to die—and similar examples are easy to find across the NFL.

For the sake of comparison, the pain-killers Darvon and Darvocet were pulled from shelves in 2010.  Some studies estimated that for each 120 million prescriptions, the drug may have caused as many as 2,000 deaths. 

If you prescribed Darvocet to 240-pound Spencer Johnson, you increased his risk of death by, at most, 0.0015%.  If you switch him to the offensive line and make him gain fifty-one pounds, the effect is over 30,000 times more dangerous.

At the time of this writing, the makers of Darvocet were fighting a lawsuit which some experts said might have bigger repurcussions than the famous lawsuit against Vioxx. 

Each year, coach Joe Whitt at Auburn prescribed something thousands of times more dangerous to several of the young men placed in his care.  He is not alone.  Thousands of professional, college, and even high school coaches are giving young men the same unbelievable, deadly prescription: bulk up.  Gain weight.  Get heavier.

Why do these men ask their athletes to assume risks that the FDA would leap to ban?

To win a child’s game.

Kate Middleton

Football fat has another way of impacting the health of our nation.  It is less direct, but broader, because it affects everyone.  To discuss this wider impact, let’s talk about the Dutchess of Cambridge, a shoe company, and Joe Camel.

In 2011, Wolverine Worldwide set sales records by moving $1.4 billion dollars of footwear.  Although Wolverine is primarily known for its sturdy boots and casual Hush Puppies, one of its stars of the year was a lesser-known brand: Sebago. 

Sebago sales took off when Kate Middleton took a Canadian boat tour in mid-July.  On one of the days of her voyage she wore Sebago boat shoes.  And all of a sudden, sales started to take off. 

Now, Sebago boat shoes are just great.  They’re well-made and look very nice.  However, they were just as well-made and good-looking before Kate Middleton slipped them on over her shapely toes.  The association of the product with an admired, extremely attractive individual didn’t change the product, but it certainly changed the product’s perceived value.

Hundreds of billions of dollars are spent each year to chase after this branding effect.  According to Forbes magazine, Michael Jordan’s brand generated $1 billion in sales to Nike alone—eight years after Jordan had last played competitive basketball.  The effect is obviously a powerful one: we want to become more like the people we admire, and we’re willing to pay good money to try to do so.

Cigarettes again provide useful insight.  When television and radio advertising were banned in 1964, approximately 42% of the American adults smoked.  After five years without television and radio branding, the figure was down to 37%.  By 1990, it was down to a quarter of American adults, and now it is fewer than one in five.  Branding changes what is perceived as acceptable or desirable.

This effect is not only driven by advertisements and celebrities; we change to become more like the peers we admire as well.  Recent research by Mir M. Ali, Aliaksandr Amialchuk, and Frank W. Heiland concludes that “[t]he social transmission of weight-related behaviors is a viable explanation for the spread of obesity in friendship networks”.  If a young person spends time with others who eat fast food, shun exercise, and gain weight, that young person is more likely to fall in line.

Another study, published in the New England Journal of Medicine, studied over 12,000 people and examined what happened when one person gained weight.  The study made a shocking discovery: when someone’s friend became obese, that person was 37% more likely to become obese themselves.  News outlets jumped on this report: fat can be contagious.

We become what we admire, and we become what we habitually see.  Have we reached a tipping point, then, with regard to obesity? 

The statistics are shocking: percentage of obese Americans (BMI > 30) has tripled since 1960.   The percentage of morbidly obese Americans (BMI > 40) has risen by five hundred percent.  Obesity costs America $190 billion dollars a year in health costs; that’s over 20% of every medical expense in the nation.

Because obesity is strongly correlated with higher absenteeism from work, Eric Finkelstein of Duke University estimates that obese Americans cost businesses $30 billion dollars, simply due to lost productivity.  And because our cars have to lug overweight Americans around, they burn a billion more gallons of gas than they would if we weighed the same as we did fifty years ago.

What does any of this have to do with football?

Well, certainly thousands of young men whose coaches pressure them into bulking up contribute directly to the issue; however, reasonable people ought to conclude that the effect of branding plays a role.

Little Johnny sees Big Bubba Lineman and his belly tumbling around on national television.  Dad loves Big Bubba, which means that Johnny does, too.  When Johnny starts to notice his own little bundle of blubber, he’s downright proud of it; he’s a little more like that guy on TV.

Don’t believe it?  Here’s a the way an article on bleacherreport.com introduced a slideshow called “Glutton Bowl”:

“[T]his is American football. We like to drink multiple beers with hot dogs and hamburgers at 10 a.m. before the games officially kick off.

Isn't it natural for us to be drawn to the big guys that get it done on the field every week? As a big guy myself, I have to be honest—I tend to cheer a little bit harder for the fat boys.

Here's an homage to the guys that do their part to re-define what a professional athlete looks like—these are the men that made it honorable to be huge.”

Sound familiar?  If it doesn’t, you haven’t been paying attention.  Football coverage is replete with similar examples.  The sport can’t hide from the obesity, so it revels in it.  Fat is glorfied.

If branding is powerful and fat can be contagious, can the impact of all these hulking bulks be anything but detrimental?  Are there millions of Americans who can thank football for thinking it is “honorable to be huge”?  Have we somehow made it un-American to be healthy, and American to be disgustingly obese?

If so, it costs us billions of dollars.  More importantly, obesity kills as many as a thousand people every day. 

In nine years, the nation has lost over 4,000 soldiers in Iraq; obesity kills more people every week.  We glorify obesity at our peril

You can Help

What can you do about this?  Obviously, if you hear about a local coach asking an overweight young man to bulk up, you can report it and protest it.  Expect to meet a form of resistance that completely ignores a rational risk-reward analysis; on-field prerogatives will be given undue emphasis.  When they tell you that it will help the team, or help his athletic performance, help them to reprioritize.  Remind them that concerns about health ought to outweigh any concerns about winning a child’s game.

Obviously, keep yourself and any loved ones away from the game of football.  There are a hundred other healthier and safer activities in which to participate.

But more than than, turn off the game.  Watching football can make obesity see normal or admirable; it warps the viewers perspective on acceptable or desirable weight.  Encourage others to do so as well.

I repeat: TURN OFF THE GAME!