There's been a long-standing belief in the AFL that when it's your time to go, you go. You don't second guess. You don't think twice. You don't give even a smidgen of consideration to your own physical wellbeing. You go.
Bravery is something that's engrained in all footballers, at all abilities, at all ages, as a non-negotiable trait required to play the game. In football, fearlessness isn't just encouraged, it's widely celebrated. To be universally recognised as 'courageous' is an honour bestowed on few, but one which, for many, carries as much weight and cache as any medal or trophy attainable in the sport. It's a tag that brings pride and satisfaction; one that earns admiration and respect from peers and onlookers alike. Why? Because the opposite of courageous is arguably the worst thing a footballer can be viewed as: soft.
On Thursday evening in Launceston, Hawthorn livewire Nick Watson became the latest player to throw his body into harm's way, showing little to no regard for his safety. Just before halftime, Watson backpedaled towards goal as he tracked an inside 50 kick from teammate Cam Mackenzie, only to be poleaxed by Crows defender Jordon Butts as he reached upward in an effort to clunk a mark. Watson popped up in a daze and, after a few minutes, left the ground to undergo a Sport Concussion Assessment Tool (SCAT5) test. Amazingly, he returned to the field in the second half to play out the contest.
Nick Watson came from the ground following this contest.#AFLHawksCrows pic.twitter.com/osABjLfhzo
— AFL (@AFL) May 21, 2026
Had the kick from Mackenzie been placed an inch to the left, or an inch to the right, maybe things don't pan out as fortuitously. Nobody wants to imagine or admit it, but there's certainly a world that exists where Watson doesn't get back to his feet. Maybe he's forced to spend the night in hospital. Or perhaps he never walks again.
The mere questioning of Watson's pursuit of the ball in this instance is sure to be met with scornful responses from football's traditionalists. After all, he was only putting into practise what's likely been drilled into him from the moment he first wrapped his hands around a Sherrin as a junior. He was only playing with the sort of instinctiveness and courageousness that commentators preach and fans admire. It was also highly likely Hawks coach Sam Mitchell called out the brave, heroic effort in the team's post-game meeting, which probably earned a rousing round of applause and a few ruffles of the hair from his appreciative teammates.
But if we're being honest, the payoff probably isn't worth the seismic risk an overwhelming majority of the time. In Watson's case, even if he marks that ball, he's taking a far-from-guaranteed shot at goal from 45m out on a tight angle. Even if he kicks it, is six points, in a Round 11 home and away game worth the slim chance he doesn't play for the next four-to-six weeks? Is it worth even a miniscule shot he's never the same player again?
The idea everyone must play with this body-on-the-line-at-all-costs mentality is not only wildly outdated, but increasingly dangerous. You could even argue reckless. Just because players such as Jonathan Brown, Nick Riewoldt, and Joel Selwood built legacies on throwing their body into oncoming traffic, and we repeatedly lauded them for such efforts, doesn't mean we all weren't holding our breath in fear every single time someone wearing a different jumper was hurtling towards them from the opposite direction.
An abundance of research has been undertaken over the past decade on Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), the extreme risks footballers take week in, week out, and the worrying long-term impacts such head trauma can leave. At present, CTE can only be diagnosed confidently by examination of the brain after death, but repetitive head injury, in the form of both concussions and sub-concussive impacts -- blows that do not cause signs or symptoms -- are the only known likely risk factors in developing CTE.
Studies have also shown that Aussie Rules has the highest rate of concussion of any team sport on the planet. Another study revealed 73% of those playing at the highest level experienced concussion at least once during their careers, while 60% of them require ongoing treatment for their symptoms. A third study found 63% of players who sustained a concussion had suffered another concussion in the preceding 12 months. It's no surprise the list of players to have been medically retired from the sport continues to grow at an alarming rate.
Earlier this year, AFL players were informed by Zurich Insurance that the AFL Players Association super fund would no longer pay Total and Permanent Disability (TPD) benefits for claims made after May 1, 2026 relating to brain injuries, including concussion, CTE, post-concussion syndrome, or any neurological impairment linked to brain injury. Previously, players were entitled to as much as AU$1.1 million in death and TPD cover via their superannuation fund and were able to access up to AU$600,000 in a lump sum as part of a AU$54 million injury and support fund.
With that degree of insurance now ripped away, why shouldn't players be able to take calculated risks when it comes to their safety and wellbeing? And why shouldn't they be able to do so without being made to feel lesser, weaker, or cowardly? Fans may not appreciate watching a 'contest shirker', but I'm convinced that's only because we've become so conditioned to believing such actions would only ever come from those who don't play the game the right way. The tough way.
Ask any level-headed coach if they truly enjoy watching their players putting themselves in potentially life-threatening situations. How about the families and friends of these athletes? Just about every single time we watch someone go back with the flight of the ball and throw themselves into a pack with their vision restricted is a roll of the dice that simply doesn't need to be taken. Frankly, despite what many of us believe to our core, it's irresponsible and often a disaster waiting to happen.
This past weekend, Collingwood champion Scott Pendlebury became the AFL's outright games record holder. Say what you will about his lack of travel over the 21-year journey, but much of Pendlebury's longevity can be attributed to the way he's played the game.
How many occasions can you recall Pendlebury putting his body in danger akin to Watson on Thursday evening? How many times has he emerged from a contest in a daze? Pendlebury is widely considered one of the most intelligent and considered players to have ever played the sport and it's no coincidence those smarts have transferred to his desire to look after his body. It's also worth noting there isn't a person involved in football that would ever question his bravery or whether he was, indeed, 'tough'.
Ultimately, Aussie Rules is both a contact and collision sport. We'll never rid the game of injuries, even the gruesome ones that leave us squirming on the couch, but why shouldn't there be a push from those that play the game -- for our entertainment, mind you -- to reduce the amount of preventable and potentially catastrophic head injuries? Particularly now there is no insurance to fall back on. It's up to fans, commentators, and everyone else associated with the sport, to ensure the much needed mindset shift is welcomed.