It's Mothers Day once again. Time for spring sports, warmer weather, longer days, planting gardens, and, of course, watching kids play sports. Each year for the past nineteen years, MomsTEAM has published my Mother's Day Wish list. As you will see, many of the wishes on this year's list will look very familiar to long-time visitors. 

As I await tonight's advance screening in Boston of Sony Pictures' movie, Concussion, which opens nationwide on Christmas Day, the polarized debate over football has once again reached a fever pitch.

In contrast to recent battles in the now 110-year war over football MomsTEAM Institute of Youth Sports Safety, the non-profit I have headed for the last fifteen years, is not merely an interested spectator this time around.

That's because Sony Pictures chose the Institute as its partner in its Dance or Donate #ForThePlayers social media campaign; an initiative designed not just to publicize the movie but to promote our 15-year effort to make youth football and all sports safer (which is why the Institute is hosting the Boston screening)

ORIGINALLY POSTED IN HUFFINGTON POST 10/9/15 

If you are involved in a private youth sports program which plays on publicly-owned fields, diamonds, rinks, or courts, or are in local government, you have probably been hearing a lot lately about what is being dubbed the "power of the permit": the authority municipalities and towns around the country are using to condition use of their athletic facilities by private programs on compliance with state concussion safety laws from which they would otherwise be exempt, or, in an increasing number of instances, to fill gaps in their state's law.

One of my biggest gripes about the media in the age of Twitter and ever-shorter attention spans is that it doesn't lend itself well to an examination of issues in the depth they deserve.  

Recently, I was asked a series of questions by a newspaper journalist for a story on a concussed athlete who had decided to quit football despite being cleared by the team doctor to return to play.

Even though I knew that 95% of what I said in my emailed response would never make it into the story, I nevertheless spent the time formulating thoughtful responses, hoping that at least some of what I offered would avoid the cutting room floor.