#LACE NATE NEWTON PRO#

Coach, caught up in the game, brushed him aside.īut the injury wasn’t a minor bruise on a sensitive sixth grader. He staggered up and gingerly paced toward the sideline to tell the coach, his dad, that he felt woozy. Newton’s head slammed against the track surrounding the outside of the field.

Dressed in Southlake green during one game late in his final peewee season, Newton broke toward the sideline when an opponent snagged him from behind, pulled him around and slung him out of bounds. In sixth grade, Newton played running back for the Dragons, one of many youth football teams named after the eight-time 5A state champions, Carroll Senior High. There, he displayed speed and a taste for contact, running through people for years. He isn’t nearly as big as his dad, but he took his father’s quick feet and football knowledge to the field as a running back. Newton did not always exclusively play football, but he felt most at home between the hash marks.

#LACE NATE NEWTON PRO#

Nathaniel “Tre’” Newton began playing football in the fourth grade, much to the chagrin of his father - a 318-pound offensive line behemoth with 14 years of experience in the NFL and six Pro Bowl berths - who did not want his son to strap on pads as a youth.ĭespite this, Newton quickly flourished on the gridiron, combining natural genetic ability with a prescribed passion for the sport. Concussions and football are intertwined - players like Newton are caught in between. PBS, which began tracking the number of concussions in the NFL this season, already reports 102. High-profile documentaries such as “League of Denial” raise awareness and rule changes implemented by the NFL and FBS have attempted to curtail concussions. The NFL settled a lawsuit with former players for $785 million in October of this year. It’s stories like Newton’s, as told by himself, his mother and his former teammates, that have sparked public interest into the issue of concussions in sport. The kid who grew up in the Dallas Cowboys’ locker room, catching balls from Troy Aikman and shadowing his father Nate Newton, had taken one hit too many.ĭaily Texan file photo from September 7, 2010.

“The best decision for me and my future is to not play football at the University of Texas,” Newton said. Newton, who had missed the team’s last game against Oklahoma State because of concussion symptoms, faced two rows of reporters anticipating his announcement.Ī normally eloquent and heady speaker, Newton began with an unusual lack of grace, his words supplemented with a flurry of “ums”and “uhs.” But what he said resonated clearly.

He sat down and gazed out to a mass of cameras and somewhat familiar faces staring back at him. With this in mind, Newton strode to the podium suddenly panicking about what to say. Instead, football raided his potential for long-term health after dealing him seven concussions in nine seasons. It wasn’t because of an injury that robbed him of his speed or natural gift of strength. The son of an NFL player and a person who had identified himself almost singularly with the sport for a decade would voluntarily give up the sport he adores. 15, 2010, for the last time as Tre’ Newton - football player.ĭuring the next 30 minutes, that side of Newton would be cast aside. The elevator flashed nine and as the doors opened, Newton strolled out of the elevator into Bellmont Hall on Nov. How can I stop? It’s the only thing I know. This will be the last time I talk to the media.

Lace nate newton