College athletics is big business. While athletes are not paid for their efforts (well, some are), they can reap substantial benefits while pursuing glory on the playing fields of their Alma Maters. But athletes, like workers, are prone to injuries. And once injured, they may find themselves liable for the cost of medical treatment. There is no workers comp for injured athletes, but perhaps there ought to be.
Kristina Peterson writes in the New York Times that athletes are often stuck with the medical bills for sport injuries. Students may have coverage through their parents’s insurance policies, but these often exclude varsity sports, limit out-of-state treatment or do not cover much of the bill. Schools may offer supplemental plans, but these vary greatly. Athletes who play for major Division I schools often benefit from robust coverage. Big Ten athletes rarely have to pay for medical treatment. The NCAA offers catastrophic insurance for all athletes, but coverage begins at $90,000. An athlete would run through an awful lot of treatment to reach that level of medical billing.
Even in the Big Ten, where insurance coverage is robust, stuff happens. Jason Whitehead played football at The Ohio State University. He was badly injured during a practice and was airlifted to a hospital.
“The next day, when I woke up, the doctor came in and informed me that surgery went well, but this was a career-ending injury…It took a while to sink in.”
Whitehead lost his scholorship one year after the injury. He also ended up with $1,800 in medical bills not covered by his father’s insurance or by the school’s. The school valued Jason as an athlete; as an ordinary student, well, he ended up pretty much on his own.
Rowing to Oblivion
As in workers comp, medical coverage for student athletes is complicated by factors that may or may not be directly related to the injury. Erin Knauer went out for the crew team as a freshman walk-on at Colgate University. She had a cold when she took a five kilometer workout test on rowing machines. On pace for the fastest time, she suddenly felt a shooting pain beginning in her back and reaching her toes.
She eventually was diagnosed with postviral myositis, a muscular inflammation that causes weakness and pain. Colgate officials determined that this was an illness, not an injury, so financial responsibility fell to Knauer. She tapped out her student health policy at $25,000, leaving her $55,000 in debt. She is currently working two jobs and paying down the bills at the rate of $250 a month.
There is little doubt that Knauer’s illness was exacerbated, if not caused, by the strenuous workout. If this had been a work-related situation, comp would likely have picked up the entire tab (plus indemnity). But as a student athlete, Knauer has no guarantee of coverage. She wanted to row for the glory of Colgate. She ended up in serious pain and serious debt. Glorious it was not.
College athletics often involve a fundamental trade off: in return for playing sports, athletes benefit from a low-cost or virtually free education. That might be a pretty good deal, except when the sport results in a life-changing injury. As David Dranove, a professor at Northwestern’s Kellogg School of Management, puts it: “It makes no more sense to tell the athletes, “You go buy your own health insurance,” than it does to say, “You go buy your own plane tickets and uniform.'”
The rationale for mandatory insurance for athletes is similar to the rationale for workers comp. The schools benefit from the labors of their athletes. The least they can do is pay for any and all medical treatment required to make these athletes whole.
Posts Tagged ‘althletes’
Injured Jocks and Medical Costs
Monday, July 20th, 2009Genetic Testing, Part Two: The Heart of an Athlete
Wednesday, October 12th, 2005Yesterday’s blog concerning genetic testing has prompted some thoughtful responses from our readers. It has also led to further research into the current and rather compelling story of Eddie Curry, a highly touted young center for the Chicago Bulls. Curry missed the last 13 games of the season and the playoffs due to a heart problem. The Bulls wanted him to submit to a genetic test, to determine whether he’s susceptible to cardiomyopathy, the ailment that killed former Boston Celtics guard Reggie Lewis and Loyola Marymount star Hank Gathers. Curry, citing his right to privacy, refused. He was subsequently traded to the New York Knicks, who say they have no intention of requiring the genetic test “because of New York’s privacy and employment laws.” Instead, the Knicks will rely on their team doctors.
John Hollinger at ESPN Insider was at the Knick’s press conference: “Isiah Thomas, [the Knicks general manager] must have said ‘I have tremendous confidence in our medical team’ about 12 times in a 20-minute [period].”
Wow. This is a loaded and truly fascinating situation. Were the Bulls being prudent in requiring the DNA test, or were they violating the ADA? Were they concerned for Curry’s well being or the team’s bottom line? Are the Knicks and their team doctors opening themselves to lawsuits (from Curry’s family, no less) for allowing him to play without knowing the details of his condition? Is the life of a 22 year old worth the risk, if he can pull down the boards and put up some points?
Hollinger has a rather scathing analysis of the risks the Knicks are taking: not the health risks per se, but the impact on the team’s future performance. He’s not impressed with their risk management skills.
The Death of Reggie Lewis
This situation brings to mind the saga of Reggie Lewis, the former Boston Celtics captain whose death from a heart ailment in 1993 is still wending its way through the courts. (A thorough and lucid summary of the story can be found here.) Lewis passed out briefly during a playoff game. He was sent to New England Baptist hospital where he underwent a number of tests supervised by a team of 12 of the most respected cardiologists in the Boston area. This team was called “The Dream Team” based on a similar phrase to describe the superior talent of the gold medal winning USA basketball of 1992. After thorough testing, the Dream Team diagnosed Lewis to be suffering from ventricular tachycardia, the most dangerous form of arrhythmia. The cause of this was believed to be focal cardiomyopathy, a disease of heart muscle. Of the various forms of arrhythmia, some are harmless and others are potentially life-threatening, such as this diagnosed one. Dr. Stanley Lewis, director of clinical cardiology at New England Deaconess Hospital and member of the Dream Team, said, “When you talk about arrhythmia’s that result in loss of consciousness’ you’re dealing with a deadly arrhythmia.”
Lewis found the dream team’s diagnosis — and its resulting immediate end of his basketball career — to be a nightmare, so he sought a second opinion. He consulted with Gilbert Mudge, a well known cardiologist who ran his own tests and declared that Lewis was not suffering from any sort of cardiomyopathy but merely from a curable neurocardiogenic fainting disorder.
Approximately two months after receiving Mudge’s favorable diagnosis, Reggie Lewis collapsed and died shooting baskets at a Boston gym. An autopsy revealed that his heart was abnormal, enlarged and extensively scarred. The state medical examiner was vague about the description of the scarring and the how it was likely caused.
Hidden Truth
Overarching this entire sad saga is the distinct possibility that Lewis abused cocaine. If this is true (his widow denies it vehemently), his failure to disclose the drug use directly impacted Mudge’s findings and those of the dream team as well. The author of this study finds plenty of blame to distribute among the blazing egos of the dream team docs, Gilbert Mudge and Reggie Lewis himself.
It is a cautionary tale, but the lessons are probably beyond the reach of the ambitious New York Knicks and their new center. In the best of worlds, people would look at all the available information and make informed judgments concerning Eddie Curry’s future. The world of professional sport is far from ideal — there is simply too much at stake. So here’s wishing Mr. Curry the best of luck as he throws up his jump shots and fights for his rebounds. Every time he loses his balance and falls to the floor, we’ll all just hold our collective breaths — to see if he is able to get up off the floor and go on with the game.
