I am on the phone with the writer Malcolm Gladwell, the number one voice in American culture advocating for The End of Football. We've just dissected the game's risks and liabilities and the dangers of repeated head trauma when I ask him this:
“Well, I'd never tell any parent what they should or shouldn't do…,” Malcolm politely, Canadianly, stammered.
“It's okay,” I say, “really. Just tell me what you think.”
“I'd say I think you're crazy.”
By the time Gladwell told me I'd have to be insane to let my 8-year-old son play tackle football, I'd heard it a lot. I'd had many similar, if less informed, discussions since Wyatt had started asking me about playing it—every single day—a few months earlier. When I first mentioned to a friend at work that