By Dianne Marie Normand Hartley
In August 2024, former LSU defensive back Greg Brooks Jr. filed a lawsuit against Louisiana State University (LSU), its Board of Supervisors, and Our Lady of the Lake Regional Medical Center, alleging gross negligence in the handling of his medical condition during the 2023 football season. Brooks, who transferred to LSU from the University of Arkansas in 2022, began experiencing symptoms such as dizziness, vomiting, and balance issues during an August practice. Despite these warning signs, he alleges that LSU staff pressured him to continue practicing and playing, threatening his starting position if he did not comply.
The lawsuit contends that LSU team trainers misdiagnosed his symptoms as vertigo, delaying a referral to a specialist for weeks. By the time an MRI was conducted on September 14, 2023, it revealed a cancerous brain tumor requiring immediate surgery. Performed the following day by Dr. Brandon Graynor—who is a defendant in the lawsuit—the procedure at Our Lady of the Lake Regional Medical Center resulted in multiple strokes, leaving Brooks permanently disabled.
Also named in the lawsuit are LSU head coach Brian Kelly, former defensive coordinator Matt House, former safeties coach Kerry Cooks, head athletic trainer Owen Stanley, and team doctors Stephen Etheredge and Vincent Shaw. The lawsuit argues that these individuals failed to act on clear neurological symptoms, neglected concussion protocols, and delayed necessary care, compounding Brooks’ injuries.
Lifting the Veil on Collegiate Athlete Brain Health
Brooks’ case is more than a personal tragedy; it is an indictment of systemic failures in player health management in collegiate sports. His symptoms—dizziness, confusion, and balance issues—are hallmark signs of neurological distress that should have placed him immediately into concussion protocol. Such protocols mandate removal from activity, medical evaluation, and ongoing monitoring to protect athletes from further trauma.
Had Brooks been properly evaluated, the lawsuit suggests, not only could he have been protected from additional head impacts, but his condition might have been diagnosed earlier. While brain cancer is exceedingly rare and unlikely to have been prevented, the delay in recognizing his symptoms compounded his suffering, including possible additional head trauma, brain swelling, and neuroinflammation, which may have exacerbated his long-term injuries, experts say.
C-3 Logix and the Limits of Technology
The case also underscores the limitations of concussion assessment tools like C-3 Logix, often relied upon to evaluate symptoms like Brooks’. While these tools measure balance, reaction time, and cognitive function, they cannot replace clinical judgment. Over-reliance on such tools, coupled with pressure to keep players on the field, creates a dangerous environment where critical symptoms are dismissed or misdiagnosed.
The Broader Context of Athlete Safety
Brooks’ case highlights disparities between collegiate and professional sports. The NFL mandates the presence of independent neurologists at every game, alongside three concussion spotters, to ensure impartial evaluation and care. In contrast, LSU had three team doctors—none of whom were neurologists—raising questions about the adequacy of care provided to collegiate athletes.
Adding to the concerns is the culture of collegiate football, where athletes are often expected to "push through" injuries. Brooks’ lawsuit suggests that this culture not only delayed his diagnosis but actively endangered his health.
Lack of Concussion Transparency in High School Sports Highlights the Need for Legislative Reform
While the negligence alleged in Greg Brooks Jr.’s case has prompted questions about the care provided to LSU players, the veil of secrecy surrounding high school football in Louisiana is even more troubling. Attempts by Healthcare Journal of Baton Rouge and Healthcare Journal of New Orleans to obtain concussion data through public records requests have been repeatedly denied, with schools citing privacy laws like HIPAA and FERPA. However, these laws do not preclude the release of aggregate, anonymized data, so the cat-and-mouse game continues. A Louisiana Department of Education spokesperson shared that they do not have concussion stats on student-athletes and do not “sanction” football, recommending inquiries be directed to the Louisiana High School Athletic Association (LHSAA). LHSAA’s lawyers claim they are a private institution and are therefore not obligated to provide concussion data—and won’t.
The refusal to provide concussion statistics or explain safety protocols for young athletes raises serious concerns about accountability. It’s impossible for parents or the public to know how widespread brain injuries are—or whether schools are doing anything to mitigate them.
The Louisiana Department of Health does not yet track high school and college concussions in the state, as is required in Michigan. One Louisiana lawmaker remarked, “That sounds like easy, low-hanging fruit.” Let’s see if lawmakers will require schools to report concussions and the number of school days missed in 2025. It’s a can of worms schools do not want to open because of the conclusions the public may draw and the public relations nightmare of defending a game—though profitable—known to endanger students’ brain health. It would be quite the confession.
One might argue that the fact most high schools in the state do not even employ athletic trainers reveals a staggering gap in oversight for this violent game. But, as the Brooks lawsuit shows, even LSU—with its athletic trainers and three team doctors—lacked neurological expertise or the backbone to pull a starting player. This case shows what really happens on the sidelines.
A Call for Transparency and Reform
Greg Brooks Jr.’s lawsuit exposes critical gaps in concussion protocols and neurological care at the highest levels of collegiate sports, but it also shines a light on the systemic failures plaguing Louisiana high school athletics. The lack of transparency—evident in both public records denials and a failure to track and disclose concussion statistics—makes it impossible to hold programs accountable or ensure athlete safety.
But this case also raises a fundamental question: should schools field teams for games that inherently involve repeated head collisions without the resources to ensure proper care? Repeated hits to the head are antithetical to learning, with research increasingly linking concussions and sub-concussive impacts to short- and long-term cognitive impairment, emotional dysregulation, and neurodegenerative diseases like chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE), ALS, and Parkinson’s. Schools, as institutions of education, have a responsibility to protect the physical and cognitive well-being of their students. The majority of tackle football hits occur at practice, especially if schools do not adhere to the once-a-week helmeted practice regulation. If a school’s team cannot field a neurologist and three concussion spotters at every practice and game, perhaps it should not be playing tackle football. Flag football, a non-contact alternative and now Olympic sport, would provide students the opportunity to enjoy the game without the inherent risks of repeated blows to the head.
Boxing, once a staple of public school athletics, was removed from schools a generation ago because of the risks associated with repeated blows to the head. Yet tackle football, which carries similar risks, remains embedded in Louisiana’s culture and beyond. While cultural attachment to the game is strong, the neurological consequences for student-athletes demand a reevaluation of its place in schools and universities. If not, these systems will be left holding the smoking gun as more former players step forward, humbly realizing what was allowed to happen to them in the name of school spirit.
To read the lawsuit, click here.