“Please, see that my brain is given to the [National Football Leagues]’s brain bank.” Dave Duerson left these dying words to his family before he ended his own life.

That was a month ago ­— old news now that the NFL is officially in a lockout.

A former Chicago Bears safety, Duerson was 50 years old and may have been suffering from chronic traumatic encephalopathy, a degenerative brain disease that has been linked with depression and cognitive impairment.

The state of other former players is just as heartbreaking. GQ recently published an article on Fred McNeil, a 12-year veteran linebacker for the Minnesota Vikings during the 1970s and 1980s. McNeil received his law degree soon after he walked away from football, but by the mid 1990s, he could no longer comprehend long legal documents. Now, he does not even realize he no longer practices law.

Former University of Alabama fullback Kevin Turner has been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease, an incurable neuromuscular disorder. Turner, who played for the New England Patriots and Philadelphia Eagles, no longer has the strength to put on a pair of blue jeans without help. Doctors have told him he will likely die in the next two years.

Conclusive evidence that the condition of these retired players and others stems from stints in the NFL is scant, but that should not discredit reason for concern. Neither should the small number of former players diagnosed with any problems, since many refuse to confess to any suffering or have not been properly diagnosed.

But instead, NFL owners and players are worried about the lockout.

The lockout is sham. A joke. An embarrassment. No one in the entire NFL loses money. The league raked in $9 billion last year, and somehow, the owners and the players cannot agree to share this wealth.

The owners demanded a larger cut of the revenue in the new collective bargaining agreement discussion this past year. When the players refused to budge before the former CBA expired this month, the league went into a lockout.

The ramifications of football causing serious mental and muscular disorders for players after their football careers must outweigh the disgraceful money of this lockout. The sport of football – far beyond the NFL fields – is in the balance in terms of the style of play and even quality. Pretending that this is not the case is a travesty.

No doubt, the hard-hitting eras of the past few decades have fueled this situation. Symbolized by Jack Tatum’s infamous paralyzing hit in 1978 and the more-recent James Harrison weekly collisions, the NFL bears responsibility.

Cleveland Browns linebacker Scott Fujita vocalized what he sees as hypocrisy on the NFL’s part on the issue.

“Remember that photo of Harrison making a hit on [Browns receiver Mohamed] Massaquoi?” Fujita asked. “They [the NFL] fined him $75,000 for that – and at the same time they were selling the photo on nfl.com for $24.99.”

Do not suppose that fixing big hits will solve this problem though. As Jeanne Marie Laskas wrote in the aforementioned GQ article, “CTE is not about the big hit, or not only. It’s the thousands of little hits, the sort that linemen constantly take and give; science suggests that it’s these subconcussive collisions that cause permanent, cumulative brain damage.”

However, improving safety could drastically change the game of football for players and fans. Seattle Seahawks’ Lofa Tatupu has brought up the very question that underlies this issue.

“But in the end, isn’t the big hitting what fans love?” He asked. “The gladiatorial nature, the huge hits. You wonder; if that goes away, will we lose viewers?”

Maybe the concerns of the NFL should not be on losing viewers or how to split up $9 billion but should rather be on losing the minds and lives of former players – real human beings – far too early and in far too painful fashion.

Wesley Vaughn is a junior majoring in public relations and political science. His column runs on Wednesdays.