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Antwaan Randle El is the NFL's worst fear. Actually, he's just one of the NFL's worst fears. A growing number of them are rolling into a formidable cumulative. And there's one remaining fear that could spell football's doom. And she's edging in that direction.

Randle El is a walking billboard for good reason not to play the game. The former All-Pro wide receiver, the only wide receiver to ever throw a touchdown pass in the Super Bowl, this week told the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette that he wishes he had never played football.

"If I could go back, I wouldn't," he said. "I would play baseball. I got drafted by the Cubs in the 14th round, but I didn't play baseball because of my parents. They made me go to school. Don't get me wrong, I love the game of football. But right now, I could still be playing baseball."

More damning was something else Randle El said. He predicted that due to the growing awareness of the dangers of playing football, he "wouldn't be surprised if football isn't around in 20, 25 years."

Think about that for a moment.

What if the most popular spectator sport in America was gone — or greatly reduced — by the year 2036 because nobody wanted to play it? It's hard to imagine. But … what if? Boxing used to be one of the most popular sports, too. Then, a bunch of people decided it wasn't such a great idea to get behind a sweet science in which participants' main goal was to bruise the brain of the other guy.

What if, indeed.

Randle El was a star quarterback at Indiana before playing for the Steelers, a team that has had its share of players who have seen difficult times after their playing days were over. Randle El said he is not dying, but that he lives with pain in his knees, ankles and feet, all remnants of his time on the field, a toll that is exacted every day of his life.

Already, as some parents are either guiding their children away from the game or outright preventing them from playing it, on account of head trauma, the NFL is trying via advertising campaigns to entice youngsters — and their parents — back toward playing — toward allowing them to play — football.

Then, along comes the movie Concussion.

Along comes compelling medical data.

Along comes Randle El, who said he, too, suffers the effects of mental impairment: "I ask my wife things over and over again, and she's like, 'I just told you that.' I'll ask her three times the night before and get up in the morning and forget. Stuff like that. I try to chalk it up as I'm busy, I'm doing a lot, but I have to be on my knees praying about it, asking God to allow me to not have these issues and live a long life. I want to see my kids raised up. I want to see my grandkids."

His is far from a solitary voice. There are many.

I'll never forget some 13 years ago listening to former BYU fullback Dustin Johnson, who played for the Jets and Seahawks, talk about his disabilities after suffering multiple concussions in the NFL. He said he'd put a box of cereal in the refrigerator and a carton of milk in the cupboard. He said he brushed his teeth with hand soap. He said he forgot where he put his wedding ring. He forgot books he had just read and movies he had just watched. He once backed into a car parked at the end of his driveway that he had seen and admired just minutes before.

"I have to write down a to-do list every night for the next day and keep reviewing it," he said back then. "I have trouble following directions, especially when there's more than one thing going on at a time. I get overwhelmed. My mind gets flustered. I get confused. I also get migraines where I can't eat or sleep. Eighty percent of the time, I'm OK. But the other 20 percent, the pain in my head really zaps me."

Over one stretch of his playing days in 1999, Johnson said he was knocked unconscious in three straight games. He played on — until an emergency trip to the hospital revealed that his brain was hemorrhaging.

Protocols have changed since then, but the brutal nature of football is almost impossible to eliminate. Penalties for head-to-head contact are present and coaches are attempting to teach rugby-style tackling, in which defenders wrap a ball carrier and roll to bring him down.

But short of settling for pulling flags in some version of flag football, the game will always be physical. Head trauma will always be a risk. At least, it will be until many mothers in America say no, no more, not my sons. If that happens, even a league as prosperous and powerful as the NFL, a game as popular as football, will be shaken.

It might not happen in 20 or 25 years, but it could happen in your lifetime.

Football will last, then, as long as the moms of America say it will last. Nobody knows the exact economic impact of such a movement, the number of billions of dollars at stake and the time it would take to blow those dollars up. But if they designate the game as too dangerous, too damaging, if those mothers listen to Antwaan Randle El and others like him, economics won't matter. Neither will how many or how much American sports fans currently love the game.

If and when moms turn their backs, and walk their kids away, football will be more than shaken, it will be a memory.

GORDON MONSON hosts "The Big Show" with Spence Checketts weekdays from 3-7 p.m. on 97.5 FM and 1280 AM The Zone. Twitter: @GordonMonson.