I would advise kids not to play any sports, such as tackle

Hear, O seekers of wisdom, the words of Ann McKee, the physician and scholar who has studied the shadows that linger after the cheers of the stadium fade: “I would advise kids not to play any sports, such as tackle football, where they are exposed to repeated blows to the head.” These words, though stern, are born of compassion, forged from long years of examining the damage hidden beneath the helmets of heroes. For in them lies a truth as old as the ages—that strength without care becomes ruin, and glory pursued without wisdom leads to sorrow.

The meaning of McKee’s counsel is clear: youth must be protected. In their early years, children’s bodies and minds are still tender, their futures unformed. To subject them to the relentless pounding of repeated head injuries is to gamble with their very essence—their memory, their clarity, their spirit. For what is the mind if not the seat of the soul’s fire? To injure it in the pursuit of fleeting triumph is to wound not only the body, but the future of a life yet fully to blossom.

Consider the tragic tale of gladiators in ancient Rome. They fought for honor and applause, yet many left the arena broken, their bodies shattered by countless blows. Though their courage was great, the empire used them as spectacle, caring little for the men beneath the armor. So too, in modern times, the young are sometimes urged into collision for the sake of victory, while the true cost—the unseen toll of the brain’s suffering—is hidden until years have passed. McKee’s warning is a modern echo of an ancient truth: the price of entertainment must not be paid with the lives of the innocent.

Her words spring from the study of CTE—chronic traumatic encephalopathy—a disease of the brain found in those who endured repeated concussions. Former warriors of the gridiron, once celebrated, later sank into confusion, anger, depression, and despair. Their triumphs on the field were remembered, but they themselves bore scars that no cheer could heal. McKee’s voice rises from this evidence, not as condemnation of sport itself, but as a call to shield the next generation from repeating these fates.

Yet let us not misinterpret her wisdom. She does not cry out against all sport, but against those that demand from the head a price too high. There are countless games, countless disciplines, that strengthen body and soul without demanding such peril. Running, swimming, martial arts practiced with care—these build resilience without breaking the mind. Her warning is not to deny children the joy of play, but to guide them toward pursuits that cultivate health rather than destroy it.

And so the lesson is carved for us: guard the youth, for they are the seeds of tomorrow. Do not push them into battles their bodies cannot endure for the sake of pride or tradition. Remember that their joy must be lifelong, not fleeting; their victories must endure, not vanish into pain. To honor the child is to protect their mind, to preserve the flame of their spirit, so that when they reach maturity, they may choose their own battles with wisdom.

Therefore, O listeners of tomorrow, let McKee’s words echo within you: choose safety over fleeting glory, wisdom over reckless tradition. If you guide the young, guide them into paths that will strengthen, not destroy. If you are young, remember that your mind is a treasure beyond measure—guard it well. For what profit is it to win a game, if the very essence of memory, thought, and joy is lost? Protect the flame, and it will light your whole life. This is the way of the wise.