Just five yards out of Matt Ryan’s hands, the pass itself was a routine one. And what followed was anything but. Nyheim Hines was alert and standing one minute, and then he was clearly shaken, his legs wobbly, his eyes averted, his body betraying instinct.
The hardest hit of the evening wasn’t this one. Many actually failed to make the contact in real time. However, the aftermath—those few confusing moments of Hines attempting to regain his balance—told a more compelling tale than any replay could.
| Name | Nyheim Hines |
|---|---|
| Born | November 12, 1996 (Age 29) |
| Position | Running Back / Return Specialist |
| Teams | Colts, Bills, Browns, Chargers |
| Notable Incident | Concussion on October 6, 2022 vs. Denver Broncos |
| Reference | ESPN: “Colts’ Nyheim Hines Suffers Concussion” |
It was obvious that something was amiss by the time teammates arrived and whistles blew. The terrifying scenes involving Tua Tagovailoa only a week prior were remarkably similar to watching Hines stumble. Although it wasn’t yet common, “gross motor instability” would soon be.
Witnessing a player lose control of his body due to confusion rather than pain is particularly startling. It is the body’s silent warning. And everything around it, including game clocks, stadium noise, and sideline chatter, disappears when it rings.
Medical personnel raced to Hines. Cameras cut away. However, those observing closely witnessed his knees shaking as he attempted to walk, only to be gently led off the field.
Within minutes, he was declared out of the game. In this instance, the decision felt prompt and responsible, but it shouldn’t have felt remarkable.
Hines’ injury served as yet another reminder that health is more than just clearance, particularly in light of the increased scrutiny surrounding the league’s handling of concussions in recent days, particularly following Tagovailoa’s contentious return-to-play incident.
No stretcher was wheeled out, and there was no dramatic collapse. Just a slight unraveling—proof that brain damage doesn’t always manifest itself overtly.
In a career that was based on quickness and agility, it was just another stop sign for Hines. He was once a track athlete and is known for his lightning-fast cuts, abrupt bursts, and remarkable ability to change momentum at any time. It must have felt like watching your shadow separate to lose that for even a brief period of time.
The phrase “concussion protocol” would later be used incessantly. It was discussed by analysts. It was explained by doctors. However, Hines’ expression—one of misalignment rather than pain—was what really counted at that moment. such as improper connections between the wires.
I recall seeing Quenton Nelson walk beside him at one point, simply being there in silence. Statistics don’t last as long as that kind of moment.
The NFL and the players’ union started changing their strategy, particularly with regard to assessing motor control, by utilizing new regulations. The plan was to emphasize the obvious indicators that fans had just seen in Hines.
It was an especially creative change, based on urgency. However, public outcry preceded it, not the other way around.
Headlines changed as Hines started to heal. Other games, other injuries. However, he found it difficult to move on. Shortly after, he was thrust into a second battle with his body after another incident—a jet ski accident that tore his ACL.
We all gained some insight into patience and seclusion during the pandemic. For Hines, those attributes took center stage. There was no glamour in rehab. He characterized the initial months as harsh, with advancement measured in inches rather than yards and occasionally in steps.
He maintained his optimism. Months later, he said on a podcast that he no longer took walking for granted. You only believe comments like that when you’ve had to relearn something fundamental.
He was still not feeling like himself three months after the surgery. However, the change was evident by the fifth month. Running came back. Balance did the same. Perhaps more significantly, confidence also increased.
He created a comeback strategy that allowed him to focus on his strengths—explosive motion combined with acute awareness—by forming strategic alliances with trainers and therapists.
He wasn’t pleading for help when he signed with the Chargers. He had something to offer. A compliment. A man who returns. a third-down choice. A teammate who had viewed the game from perspectives that most players don’t consider.
It’s simple to view concussions as short-term setbacks in the context of professional sports. However, for athletes like Hines, they are pivots rather than merely bruises. moments that define a person’s life and career and are rarely guaranteed.
Hines is still running, though. Through that night in Denver, not away from it. He took the lessons, the memories, and the obstinate conviction that a stumble need not turn into a complete stop with him.
And it’s difficult not to cheer for the guy who got up slowly only to discover a different way to get up if you watched that game, even for a short while.