All human societies operate with scores of myths to keep us from thinking too deeply or considering our own flaws: the myth of the heroic warrior, the war like Amazons, saints and Presidents above all reproach.
We put these "heroes' on pedastals and imbue them with almost superhuman status and ironically enough endoe our selves with their selfsame qualities. Perhaps some kernel of truth lies there as ordinary people can show extreme bravery in certain situations; nevertheless, this hero making often carries self delusions, especially for we males.
If only we had worked harder in the weight room or our high school coaches hadn't hated us, we could have gotten that scholarship and then made it to thee NFL or major leagues baseball or whatever flights of fancey we feel when playing Call of Duty in our parents basements.
Pros play kids games after all.
We could have become warriors even without a draft but couldn't volunteer for the wars we cheer from afar because we had important things to do.
Since we have made ourselves heroes in our own eyes, how dare real heroes show weakness and seek counselling or have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or fail to happily cope with getting dwmaged beyond all repair?
How freaking dare they?
[I am here to start a fight, because I'm a man and that's how I solve problems. I'm not here to help you. I am here to fucking hurt you. That's what I've learned in my years as an NFL fan. You have an issue with somebody? You see somebody being stupid? You don't look the other way. You don't back down. You strap on your man boots and you shove it through their teeth.
Let me tell you how I know this. I know it because the NFL told me. Take the Dolphins. They suck, but they're still in the NFL. I'm telling it like it is; that's what men do....
Warriors make war on warriors. There's no room for crying in this game. You have a problem, you handle it on the field. Handle it as a man. Go down swinging. I hear you, NFL, and that's why I'm not here to move you or persuade you. If you have a penis and feelings, you'd better cut one of them off. I'm here to start a fight.
Because this — this idea that Jonathan Martin is a weakling for seeking emotional help — this is some room-temperature faux-macho alpha-pansy nonsense, and I am here to beat it bloody and leave it on the ground. Every writer who's spreading this around, directly or by implication; every player who's reaction-bragging about his own phenomenal hardness; every pundit in a square suit who's braying about the unwritten code of the locker room — every one of these guys should be ashamed of himself, and that's it, and it's not a complicated story.
Let's put some things in context, shall we? We're lucky in this regard, because it's actually fairly easy to put mental-health issues in c ontext in a league whose retirees have a disproportionate tendency to shoot themselves to death. Former Chargers DB Paul Oliver is the most recent. He killed himself in late September at the ripe old age of 29. In 2012, four players or ex-players committed suicide in eight months, including 25-year-old Titans receiver O.J. Murdock, beloved Chargers icon Junior Seau, and Chiefs linebacker Jovan Belcher, who — maybe you vaguely remember this — shot himself in the parking lot of the Chiefs' practice facility after murdering his girlfriend in front of his 3-month-old daughter.]