I Would Never Let My Wife Play High School Football (by Eli Manning)

I owe everything I have to football. Playing 16 seasons in the NFL was one of the greatest honors of my life, and I wouldn’t trade that experience for anything. But the rewards of professional football come with tremendous risks. To this day, I still feel the effects of playing through fractures, neck injuries, a separated shoulder, and more. What happens on the field impacts your physical and mental health forever, and these risks are present at every level of the sport, not just the NFL. That’s why I would never, ever let my wife play high school football. 

If my wife got even one concussion playing football on our local high school’s team, I would never forgive myself. It’s my job as her husband to put her safety first. 

My wife Abby watched me ascend to the highest highs a player can reach in the NFL. She saw me win two Super Bowls against Tom Brady, feature in four Pro Bowls, and set league records behind center. Wouldn’t I want the love of my life to experience the same gridiron glories that her husband did? No. Knowing that every year you play, your odds of a CTE diagnosis increase by 15%, it would be irresponsible to let a 41-year-old woman like Abby pad up for even one season of high school football. 

I cannot in good conscience enlist the mother of my children in a sport where a 16-year-old linebacker could obliterate her ACL with an unfortunately timed spear tackle. Of course, there’s a part of me that would love to pass on my knowledge of the game to her. Every man dreams of seeing his wife make varsity, working on the route tree with her in the backyard after putting the kids to bed, hearing the roar from the bleachers as she scores the game-winning sack on a quarterback who’s only halfway through puberty. But what most men don’t consider is the possibility of seeing their wife laying facedown on a high school football field after a helmet-to-helmet collision with a 280-pound sophomore nicknamed “Juicy,” and getting hit themselves with a lifetime of regret.

Outside of the health risks, football demands a level of sacrifice that’s hard to ask of a mother of four. Long days of practice in grueling heat or blistering cold, travel games on weekends, spending all your remaining free time training. The odds of a 41-year-old housewife going on to play collegiate football, let alone making the NFL, are astronomically low—whereas the odds of a life-changing injury grow higher with every snap she plays. That’s a tradeoff I don’t want my wife making when she could feel equally fulfilled by activities like raising our kids, or starting a book club, or getting involved with the PTA, like other moms her age. My wife doesn’t need to become a football star for me to love her.

I promise you, the downsides of letting your wife play youth football are not worth the rewards. 

I come from a family where football was our whole lives. It meant everything to us. But my wife? She’ll enjoy the thrills of the game from the sidelines. She shouldn’t have to take on the risks of high school football in order for us to bond over it. So as long as I have any say in the matter, the only showers my wife will be hitting are with me.