Those are extreme examples, and there are many more former players struggling with comparatively minor but still difficult issues who can't help wonder what darkness the future holds. Imagine Frank Wycheck, 25 years from now, unable to lie about his forward pass being a lateral because he can't remember the Music City Miracle. Wycheck -- who retired in 2003 because of concussions and now works in radio and TV in Nashville — fights headaches and depression. "It's a constant battle," says Wycheck, 35.

Wycheck knew the end of his football career was near after he was knocked unconscious in a preseason game in 2003. "I had every symptom you can name, and for a long time. It was very difficult to deal with. You play head games with yourself. You go into the facility every day, but there's no ice bag on your head to say, 'He's hurt.' "

Concussions are difficult to diagnose because the physical evidence is limited. You can't see a guy's brain knock around in his skull — which is exactly what happens in a concussion — like you saw Joe Theismann's leg break. Even sophisticated medical exams such as MRIs often don't help much. Neither do players, who often lie to make themselves appear healthier than they are. Wycheck urges players to be honest in evaluating themselves. But even players who otherwise would be honest might not give reliable answers if they have a concussion. Asking a player who's not right in the head whether he's right in the head is a fool's errand.

What good is glory if you don't get to enjoy its fruits? Being an NFL player certainly helped Larry Morris in business. But now the family fortune is largely depleted. Kay Morris tries to sell houses as a real estate agent while caring for her husband. She doesn't make enough to keep up with her husband's medical bills — she's too busy caring for him to spend the time necessary to do so.

Numerous families are in the same, or worse, situation, but there is new relief in the form of a benefit program from the NFL and NFLPA.

Over the winter, the two groups unveiled The 88 Plan. The 88 Plan was born because of a letter written to then-commissioner Paul Tagliabue by Sylvia Mackey, wife of Hall of Fame tight end John Mackey, who has dementia (and wore No. 88). The letter described the personal and financial hardships of caring for her husband.

The plan offers $88,000 per year to former players with dementia who live in treatment facilities and up to $50,000 per year for players who live at home. Though NFL and NFLPA officials have come under heavy criticism for stingy benefit policies and unnavigable bureaucratic mazes, they promise this program will be different. One early sign of that: Costs for the Morris family will be reimbursed retroactive to February 1.

In February, officials sent letters about the program to families of 22 former players already known to have dementia and promised to be aggressive in finding others, and they have done so. As of early June, 104 applications had been distributed. Fifty-eight had been returned, 35 had been approved and the rest were pending. Not one had been denied.

The plan could not have come at a better time for Kay Morris. "What a blessing to hear about that," she says. "We were facing the question of, 'What are we going to do?' We're in this for the long haul. If they had not come up with this program, I don't know what we would have done."

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