Former NFL player Roger Craig, left, places his bust in the Pro Football Hall of Fame with help from his Rogdrick Craig, in Canton, Ohio, on Saturday, Aug. 8, 2026.
Former NFL player Roger Craig, left, places his bust in the Pro Football Hall of Fame with help from his Rogdrick Craig, in Canton, Ohio, on Saturday, Aug. 8, 2026.
Roger Craig didn’t have to tell that part of his story.
The former San Francisco 49ers great could have made his Hall of Fame induction weekend all about the glory of football, the highlight reels and the shiny trophies.
But Craig chose his crowning moment to also share the other side of football. The dark side. The one that the NFL would prefer to keep in the shadows.
And that was a very brave decision.
Toward the end of his prerecorded Hall of Fame speech, Craig said there was “another chapter I want to share.” And then he revealed his diagnosis of vascular dementia, “that my doctors believe may be related, at least in part, to the concussions I experienced during my career.”
Craig went on to describe gradual changes that were at first attributed to normal aging but that became more pronounced, causing his family to notice and become concerned, and prompting Craig to seek further medical answers.
“I hope sharing my story encourages people to pay attention to their health and seek help when something doesn’t feel right,” Craig said. “If sharing my story helps even one family or one former player then it’s worth it.”
Professional athletes are proud people. Men like Craig spent their careers projecting strength and infallibility.
Craig played 11 seasons and only missed 10 games in that span. He ranked among the top 10 in touches for five straight seasons. He rarely took a play or a practice off; his work ethic was legendary. Not the biggest player, Craig — high stepping, eyes wide — hit the hole with speed. He caught passes over the middle. He pass blocked. He took a pounding week in and week out, without complaining or begging for time off.
So it takes a different mindset and a willingness to be vulnerable in order to share such a difficult diagnosis with the world. But Craig felt it was critical. That he owed it to his football brothers.
Craig’s son Rogdrick told USA Today that it was “super important” to be public about the diagnosis.
“There are a lot of players that deal with this and they don’t say anything,” Rogdrick said to USA Today after the ceremony. “By the time they get older, it’s already too late. We’re big proponents of getting on offense early and making sure you’re talking to your doctor.
“He just wants to help as many people as possible. He’s the bravest person I know. My hero. I’m so proud of him.”
The Pro Football Hall of Fame ceremony is always a sobering event. The players who inspired us, those supermen, bastions of strength, are there in their gold jackets. But the toll that their game has taken on them shows. Many have aged beyond their years. Many struggle to get around, hobbling due to past injuries. And then there are the invisible injuries, the ones that we don’t see. The traumatic brain injuries that the medical world is still just learning about.
For decades the NFL has been “the league of denial” — to borrow the title of the groundbreaking 2013 book written by local journalists Steve Fainaru and Mark Fainaru-Wada — about the toll of concussions and brain trauma. Though there are supposedly strict protocols in place, the league still suffers from a concussion problem. Incidents of reported concussions dipped in recent years, but they increased last season due to the change in kickoff rules. Of the brains of deceased players donated to science, 99% show signs of CTE. And there continue to be tragic stories of players taking their own lives, such as Cowboys defensive end Marshawn Kneeland who died by suicide last year, and who posthumously was diagnosed with CTE.
The league likes to tout its improved safety protocols. But it is still a league of denial when it comes to player safety. This summer, league owners ripped out grass surfaces that had been installed for the World Cup, reinstalling artificial turf, a move decried by players who fully believe playing on grass is safer and better for their bodies.
Though the NFL has no official role in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, the Canton, Ohio institution is the league’s historic shrine. Every summer, the greats gather to induct new classmates and immortalize the game. You can be sure the NFL would rather the induction ceremonies celebrate only the good times and glory rather than confront the toll the game takes on players’ health.
So it had to be jarring for the league powers to hear Craig reveal his diagnosis at this climatic moment of his career. Craig, 66, waited 28 years to be enshrined, finally elected by the Seniors Committee. He was, by far, the oldest of the incoming class, which also included Adam Vinatieri, 53, Drew Brees, 47, Larry Fitzgerald, 42, and Luke Kuechly, 35.
Craig was thrilled to finally be elected. But that election also came when he’s at an age when he has to confront his own mortality and the toll the game has taken on him. He’s seen his former teammates, men like Dwight Clark, suffer and die. He felt a responsibility.
“Two things can be true,” Craig said in his speech. “Football gave me opportunities beyond anything I can imagine. It helped shape the man I became. At the same time we know more about brain health than when I played.”
He closed by saying, “I’m grateful for this game and for the people it brought into my life and grateful I can stand before you today and call this journey a blessing.”
Football gives. Football takes. Craig reminded us of both sides of the game. And that took courage.
Born in San Francisco and raised in Marin County, Ann Killion has covered Bay Area sports for more than a quarter of a century. An award-winning columnist and a veteran of 13 Olympics, several World Cups and the Tour de France, Ann joined The Chronicle in 2012. Ann has worked for the San Jose Mercury News, the Los Angeles Times and Sports Illustrated. She is a New York Times best-selling author, having co-written "Solo: A Memoir of Hope" with soccer star Hope Solo,"Throw Like A Girl" with softball player Jennie Finch and two middle-grade books on soccer, “Champions of Women’s Soccer” and “Champions of Men’s Soccer.” She was named California Sportswriter of the Year in 2014, 2017 and 2018. She has two children and lives in Mill Valley.
Jesse Rosemoore passes “Cancel Piedmont” stickers out to people around Lake Merritt in Oakland. Rosemore is the creator of the Cancel Piedmont movement.