I have a modest proposal for the NFL, one it could implement with what amounts to pocket change for the league. Do right by boys in American Samoa, who along with Hawaiians and Tongans, are becoming the new face of football.
While youth across the nation are turning their back on the game, its allure has never been stronger among Polynesians, who occupy a fertile crescent of talent stretching from the Samoan islands through Hawaii and California. As many as one hundred of them could take to NFL gridirons this season. Their presence will only grow in coming seasons and bolster league coffers.
Their ascent rides on fa’a samoa (“the way of Samoa”), which has inculcated a profound sense of discipline in youth and commitment to the collective — in this case, the team.
Samoans play with no fefe — without fear. They no longer take heads in battle, and their pre-game siva taus are for ceremonial and psychological reasons, but draw upon a warrior self-image that makes them compete with little sense of self-preservation. They play in battered helmets no longer meeting safety standards and have not had the pre-season baseline concussion impact tests routinely administered elsewhere. There’s a cost to their devotion to playing on fields furrowed with pools of water and stubbled with golfball-sized chunks of volcanic rock. As Junior Seau’s death showed, playing with no fefe can be deadly.
The acclaim Polynesians won in football should not gloss over problems at the grassroots, especially in American Samoa. But this is a one-sided love affair, and the league needs to stop taking their commitment for granted. Samoans and their communities are bearing the brunt of engagement with the game. In return for their contributions, the NFL could vastly improve conditions for youth in the territory.
Rather than turn kids into commodities, the NFL could make their lives safer, ease their transition to the states, and improve the diet that’s plagued the territory since American fare arrived after World War II and a lifestyle based on fishing and farming collapsed. When it comes to safety, health, and the educational and physical well-being of youth and their community, the NFL could have a profound impact.
So here’s how the NFL could get involved in the territory, a few volcanic uplifts that shoot out of the sea and are home to 70,000 people. Start by asking those on the island what they need. Safety is likely the most pressing concern. The NFL could build and maintain safe fields, and equip teams with decent helmets, uniforms and weight rooms. It could implement baseline concussion tests and educate boys that they need not be so stoic about pain.
The league could also advance public health. Samoans and Tongans are now among the most obese and diabetic populations on the planet. Sport glorifies the body and the NFL could encourage nutritious diets that nip diabetes before it sentences people to years of dialysis and pain. Many boys, who bulk up to play, fail to slim down afterwards, and suffer from gout, the Polynesian bogeyman. Others bear the costs of contact, hobbled and hurting. Few discuss the possibility of neurological damage, but many will confront it.
Per capita, Samoans are the most over-represented culture in American football. Football has become the story they tell about themselves to the world. It’s a story about people who work hard and play harder, conquer whatever stands in their way, and became among the best in the world in football. The NFL should stop taking their commitment for granted.
Come on, NFL — dip into petty cash and work with people in the territory of American Samoa to build social and civic capital in the tropic of football. You can do it.
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Rob Ruck, a sports historian who traveled to Hawaii and American Samoa for research, is author of “Tropic of Football: The Long and Perilous Journey of Samoans to the NFL.”
OFF TODAY: New York Times columnist Maureen Dowd is off.
