I am Isaac Seumalo’s mother, and I am writing not just as a parent, but as someone who has watched her child risk his health every single week for this team, for this sport, for a game that should never put human life in jeopardy.

Isaac is a Guard. His role is clear, crucial, yet unglamorous. He protects the interior line. He keeps his teammates safe. He does not carry the ball. He does not have the ability to protect himself against a defender charging full speed. And yet, someone made a conscious decision to target him in a moment when he was completely vulnerable. This was not reflex. This was not part of the game. This was a choice. A dangerous, reckless, career-threatening choice.

Watching it happen, feeling my heart stop, and knowing the risk he took just to do his job—it broke something inside me. It is one thing to accept the risks of football. It is another to see a player deliberately endangered because of sheer recklessness. The physical courage my son shows every game should never be exploited or disrespected in this way.

What made it even more horrifying was the reaction immediately afterward. The applause. The smirks. The celebrations. As if injuring a Guard—an unassuming, selfless player who sacrifices week after week—is a badge of honor. That reaction speaks volumes about how seriously the league takes player safety. Not seriously enough. Not nearly enough.

Do not look at the scoreboard. We won 28–15. That number does not reflect the fear, the anxiety, the sheer helplessness I felt as a mother sitting in the stands. Look at the silence in our section. Look at the chaos, the cheering, the glee on the opposing side. That is where the truth is. That is where you see the cruelty. The human cost.

The NFL claims to prioritize player protection, to advocate for safety, to create rules that prevent unnecessary harm. Yet week after week, dangerous hits are dismissed as “football toughness” depending on which jersey the target is wearing. If this is the standard, then a line that should never, ever be crossed has been erased. There is no boundary anymore. There is no protection for those who give their all on the field.

Isaac gave everything to keep the team from losing. He followed his assignments, did his job, blocked, protected, sacrificed. And he paid the price with his own body. His health was at risk. His career could have been ended in a single, reckless hit. And what did the league do? Nothing meaningful. Flags thrown too late. Warnings ignored. Hazardous plays “handled” rather than punished. The message is clear: some players’ safety is negotiable. Some are expendable.

I will not stay silent. I will not allow my son’s well-being to be diminished or treated as collateral damage. The league, the referees, the fans—they all saw what happened. Everyone who watched can understand exactly what occurred in that moment. And if this continues, if standards continue to bend for convenience, if dangerous hits continue to be tolerated under the guise of “football,” then this will not be the last time I raise my voice, the last time I demand accountability, the last time I fight for Isaac and for every player who puts their body on the line.

Football is a game. But it is not worth a life. It is not worth a career destroyed. It is not worth a child leaving the field in pain while the crowd cheers. I will speak. I will fight. I will make sure that people understand the risks, the recklessness, the consequences. Because this is not just about a score. This is about respect, safety, and humanity. And the NFL cannot continue to hide behind slogans while players’ lives hang in the balance.

Isaac Seumalo deserves better. Every Guard deserves better. Every player deserves better. And as his mother, I will ensure that the truth is heard.