The Point | A poignant memory haunts Eagles opener

Today is a festive day here in Eagles nation. When the team kicks off its 2007 season in Green Bay, I'll be rooting in front of my television set.

But for me, there is also a touch of sadness. Loss. Andre Waters, one of my favorite players in the years I covered the team for this newspaper, killed himself in November at age 44, more than a decade after he had played his last football game. Because of Andre's death - he was the third member of that great starting defense of the early 1990s to die prematurely - my enjoyment of pro football will always be a little bit haunted.

Andre was small for a football player. He had grown up very poor in Pahokee, Fla., and on game days his high school coach would hold the team bus until the picking trucks returned from the orange groves. Andre would jump off the truck, having worked a full shift, and then board the bus to play football.

They called him "Spanky," a nickname for someone who plays a lot bigger than he looks. What he lacked in size, Andre made up for with intelligence, tenacity and violence - especially violence. He was not scouted for college football, but was able to play at Division II Cheyney State, not because of a scholarship - the school didn't offer any - but because the coach arranged for him to receive loans. He was not drafted by any pro team when he graduated from Cheyney State, and when the Eagles invited him to their training camp, he kept his bag packed the entire time, expecting every day to be sent home.

When I met him, he had been a starter for six years already, one of the most feared tacklers in the game. He shaved his head smooth, had a trim moustache, and was blessedly free of the arrogance that infected the young athletes in that locker room. In the three years I reported on the team daily during football season, Andre was one of only a handful of players who treated me as an equal. He would ask about my kids, about stories I had written, and wonder about what it was like to be a reporter. When he was asked to comment, he applied himself with insight, candor and often with humor.

Andre worked himself into a kind of trance before football games. He crafted an alter ego for himself, a violent superhero called "Dr. Dre," and he threw himself at bigger running backs and receivers without the slightest regard for his own body. He was untroubled by his reputation as a "dirty" player, knowing the more his opponents feared him, the bigger he grew in their eyes. I saw him get knocked out several times during football games - the players called it "getting your bell rung" - and as soon as his eyes uncrossed he was back in the game.

After he took his life, studies of his brain tissue revealed permanent damage, the likely residue of all those big hits. His depression and suicide may or may not have been related to those scars, but they have contributed to a growing awareness that concussions are epidemic in football at every level, and ought to be treated far more seriously by players and teams.

According to Mark Lovell, who directs the Center for Sports Medicine concussion program at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center and oversees neurological-testing programs for pro football and pro hockey, the number of concussions suffered by high school and college players each year runs in the millions.

There doesn't seem to be any way to avoid them, short of banning the game. As I watch and root today, I won't fully share the delight of most fans for the monster hits that make the highlight reels. I wonder if there might be some way to throttle down the velocity of those hits. From my youthful playing days, I remember how the violence increased when my friends and I went from unpadded sandlot play to wearing hard helmets and pads. Suddenly, you could slam into people at full speed without feeling pain. Might softer helmets and pads do the same trick for the pros?

Lovell and other experts shot that theory down fast.

"Watch an international rugby match sometime," Lovell said. "No pads at all. It makes pro football look like patty-cake. I watched a game the other night and counted three men knocked out cold in 10 minutes."

The NFL this summer strongly recommended stricter precautions for players who get their bell rung in a game or practice, but even that laudable suggestion could backfire. Given the high stakes and competitive environment, many players will try to keep their coaches from finding out. When I try to imagine the kind of player who would do that, the first one who comes to mind is Andre Waters.

"But to tell you the truth I'm beginning to see a shift toward more concern and precaution by coaches, players and parents," said Kevin Guskiewicz, who directs the Sports Medicine Research Laboratory at the University of North Carolina.

Years ago, many football coaches refused to allow players to drink water during practices and games, even on the hottest of days. It was considered a sign of weakness. There isn't a serious football program in America today that doesn't understand the dangers of dehydration. Maybe Andre's tragedy will help create similar sensitivity about a football player's most valuable tool - his brain.