When Ryan Williams was hit by two Florida State defenders in Alabama’s opening game, he fell hard to the ground, his helmet and head slamming into the turf. The play was initially flagged as targeting against FSU’s Earl Little Jr., but officials overturned it on review, ruling that Little had narrowly avoided helmet-to-helmet contact. Williams grabbed his head and stayed down until medical staff helped him off the field. Coach Kalen DeBoer later confirmed a concussion that sidelined Williams the following week.
That scene looked uncomfortably familiar a few weekends later in Missouri’s game against South Carolina, when quarterback Beau Pribula slid to give himself up and still absorbed a helmet-to-helmet hit from defensive back Vicari Swain. The play was initially flagged for targeting, only to be overturned after review. ESPN rules analyst Matt Austin expressed clear disagreement with the decision, stating, “Well, the way I understand it is they don’t think he was defenseless because of the slide. I disagree. I think we need to take better care of our quarterback. That’s a bad hit we don’t want in football.”
Later in the same game, Missouri’s Marvin Burks Jr. lowered his head and struck South Carolina running back Rahsul Faison, prompting yet another targeting review. This, too, was waved off. Lead commentator Dave Pasch reacted in real time, saying, “It’s a dangerous play there when you duck your head the way that they do.” Despite two separate reviews and visible concern from the broadcast booth, neither hit resulted in an ejection or targeting penalty, raising ongoing questions about how consistently player safety is being protected.
These aren’t isolated events. Concussions in football have become almost routine, too often brushed aside as part of the game. History shows the toll repeated head and neck trauma can take: Frostburg State’s Derek Sheely collapsed and later died in 2011 after repeated blows to the back of the head. In 2015, Iowa high school player Zachary Easter endured similar trauma, later died by suicide and was diagnosed posthumously with CTE. More recently, Alabama A&M player Medrick Burnett Jr. died in 2024, a month after sustaining a head injury during a game.
Different names, same pattern: when hits are overlooked, the consequences can be catastrophic.
The professional ranks echo the same story. NFL quarterback Tua Tagovailoa’s terrifying “fencing response” on live television, his arms locking rigid after his head struck the turf, reminded millions of how quickly the brainstem can short-circuit. In boxing, Prichard Colón’s life was permanently altered by a series of illegal “rabbit punches” to the back of the head, leaving him minimally conscious. The message is the same: blows to the back of the head are uniquely dangerous, and our rules don’t reflect that reality.
The reason is simple anatomy. The brainstem and upper spinal cord are the body’s command center, regulating breathing, heartbeat and consciousness while serving as the highway between brain and body. Trauma to the front of the head may cause a concussion, affecting memory, mood and thinking. Trauma to the back of the head and neck can disrupt life support systems altogether. Because the brainstem is compact, even a small injury can be catastrophic.
That’s why combat sports ban rabbit punches outright. It’s why soccer ejects players for elbows to the back of the head and hockey penalizes checks from behind. Other sports recognize what football has been slow to admit: the back of the head is off-limits. The NCAA’s targeting rule was designed with safety in mind, but its enforcement is too narrow. It requires clear helmet-to-helmet evidence, ignores dangerous blows to the back and side of the head, often prioritizing technicalities. That’s how Williams could end up with a diagnosed concussion while the defender walked away without penalty, and how Pribula and Faison could be left exposed in the same game a few weeks later.
The NFL has already faced its reckoning. After Tua Tagovailoa’s collapse forced millions to witness the horror of ataxia (loss of muscle coordination) and fencing responses, the league introduced the “Tua rule,” which added ataxia to the list of automatic removal symptoms. But those changes came only after catastrophes.
Football doesn’t need to repeat that cycle. Governing bodies should:
- Expand the definition of targeting to include all forcible blows to the head and neck.
- Treat the brainstem and cervical spine as uniquely vulnerable in officiating guidelines.
- Automatically review all head and neck hits and err on the side of safety. If mistakes are made, let them be in favor of protecting athletes’ lives.
Players, too, can help by embracing newer helmets designed to reduce rotational impact, considering protective devices like the Q-Collar, and wearing properly fitted mouthguards.
From Tuscaloosa to Columbia to Miami to a boxing ring in Virginia, the evidence is overwhelming: the back of the head is not just another target zone, it’s a kill zone. Football at every level must treat it that way because no play is worth risking a young man’s ability to breathe, walk or remember who he is.
Paige Lichtenberger is a 2013 graduate of The University of Alabama and a doctoral candidate in clinical psychology.
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