Sadly: The Fight for Medical Autonomy in College Sports has susequently developed an .
In the high-stakes world of college athletics, the well-being of student-athletes often takes a backseat to financial and competitive pressures. A recent lawsuit involving Penn State’s football program has shed light on the troubling reality many team doctors and trainers face: the pressure to prioritize winning over player safety. Dr. Scott Lynch, the former head team doctor at Penn State, took a stand against what he saw as interference in medical decisions. His resistance led to his dismissal, but a jury later awarded him $5.25 million in damages for wrongful termination. His case highlights a broader issue in college sports—one where coaches and administrators wield significant influence over medical decisions, often at the expense of athlete safety.
Lynch’s lawsuit, covering incidents between 2015 and 2019, exposed instances where medical professionals were pressured to clear injured athletes for play before they were fully recovered. One particularly alarming revelation was that Penn State’s head coach, James Franklin, allegedly urged Lynch to approve players’ return to the field despite their injuries. Similar concerns persist beyond Penn State. In 2022, Penn State football players unsuccessfully requested a third-party representative to oversee medical decisions. Elsewhere, an LSU player sued his school after he was allegedly pressured to play despite experiencing severe headaches—later diagnosed as a brain tumor. At Bucknell, the family of a player who died during a workout accused the school of withholding details about the incident. These cases reflect a troubling pattern in college sports, where winning often seems to take precedence over athlete welfare.
A 2019 survey by the National Athletic Trainers’ Association underscored the extent of the issue. Nearly a quarter of respondents reported lacking medical autonomy, while over a third acknowledged that coaches influenced medical staff hiring and firing. Even more concerning, nearly one in five trainers admitted witnessing a coach allowing an athlete to play despite not being medically cleared. Moira Novak, the former director of athletic medicine at the University of Minnesota, faced similar challenges. She lost her position after voicing concerns about unethical practices, reinforcing the idea that medical professionals who prioritize player safety can be seen as obstacles to a program’s success.
Despite the NCAA’s efforts to implement policies protecting medical staff from outside influence, enforcement remains weak. In 2017, the NCAA mandated that team doctors and trainers have “unchallengeable autonomous authority” over player health decisions. However, no reporting mechanism or enforcement measures exist to hold programs accountable. Experts argue that without consequences, these policies remain ineffective. Lynch’s case is a stark reminder of the stakes involved. His lawsuit survived multiple dismissal attempts, and while Penn State denied wrongdoing, the jury found otherwise. The judge overseeing the case even criticized Penn State’s handling of the situation, emphasizing that protecting the football program appeared to take precedence over player health.
As college athletics increasingly resemble professional sports—with new policies potentially allowing schools to pay players—the lack of medical protections remains a glaring issue. Unlike professionals, who have unions to advocate for their health and rights, college athletes have little recourse when their well-being is compromised. For now, the onus remains on athletes to advocate for themselves, but cases like Lynch’s raise urgent questions: Who is truly protecting these young athletes, and when will meaningful change come?
