When the workers find real power, management can’t take it.
Under the NFL’s Collective Bargaining Agreement, the workers have found real power. In one very specific way.
The 2020 CBA made it much more difficult for players to hold out. Enter the hold-in.
In many cases, the team allows a player who wants a new contract to not practice while talks continue. The player is in the building (once a player reports it’s difficult under the CBA to leave), he’s working out, he’s attending meetings. It’s just a matter of time before a deal is done.
Unless a deal isn’t done. And if the player is willing to cite an injury, embellished or flat-out fabricated, to refuse to provide services until the player gets what he wants, the team is stuck.
Last year, the Cowboys cried “uncle” after they realized that their apparent plan to kick the can on the Micah Parsons contract through the 2025 season wasn’t going to work, because Parsons wasn’t going to play, due to a back injury. This year, former Steelers cornerback Joey Porter Jr. cited a back injury (which has suddenly healed, to no surprise) to sit out all of training camp, all of the preseason, and the first three games of the regular season. On Wednesday, the Steelers threw in the towel and traded Porter to, coincidentally, the Cowboys.
The powers-that-be won’t like this trend, because the players have found a way to crack the code on the CBA. After years of playing football, any player could point to one or more body parts that create chronic pain and/or present a risk of more significant injury.
If a player is committed to the approach, what can the team do? Tell him they don’t believe him? Fine him? Suspend him?
It would spark a legal mess under the CBA, a P.R. debacle for the team, and a potential morale issue in the locker room.
Enter the looming talks on a new labor deal. Surely, the Management Council is already brainstorming strategies to end the hold-in.
One fairly simple possibility would entail arranging for a neutral, third-party doctor to examine the player and to determine whether he has an injury and, if so, whether he shouldn’t be practicing or playing because of it. If the doctor says the player is fine, and if the player persists in refusing to practice or play, the player becomes susceptible to an immediate fine, or a suspension.
Still, that’s far easier said than done. Most competent doctors will tell patients that they know their bodies better than anyone. Most competent doctors aren’t in the habit of telling patients they’re faking a condition.
Really, who wants to be potentially responsible for informing a player he doesn’t have a real injury and essentially forcing him to play when he doesn’t want to?
The better approach could be to financially incentivize the player to practice and play. Over the past 20 years or so, offseason workout bonuses and per-game active roster bonuses have become an effective tool to tie pay to actual performance. A significant training-camp (and/or regular-season) practice participation bonus would raise the stakes for players who can’t (or won’t) suit up. Per-game active roster bonuses, which currently aren’t part of the standard rookie deals, could be added to the formula for paying draft picks.
Obviously, this would punish players who are legitimately injured, and it would tempt some players to risk further injury in the name of earning their pay. But the teams already employ that approach with active-roster bonuses in veteran contracts. For young players, it becomes an important device to avoid a hold-in after their third seasons, when they become eligible for second contracts.
The problem is that the goalposts will potentially move. A player who wants a new contract and who previously would have cited an injury to avoid playing could just half-ass it through practices or games. But it’s one thing to refuse to play; it’s another to put on the uniform, step into the arena, and constantly make business decisions. That would open the player up to fair criticism from media and fans, and to resentment from his teammates.
Still, management has to be miffed that players have found a way to stage what is essentially a one-man wildcat strike until he gets what he wants. And it would be foolish to think the league isn’t already trying to come up with a way to end it.
That said, some owners may not mind it. In 2025, the Cowboys’ loss was Green Bay’s gain, after the Packers traded for Parsons. In 2026, the Cowboys benefited from the tactic that was used against them last year, with the trade that brought Porter to Dallas.
Given that all owners could have their contractual rights to a player short-circuited by a conscious refusal to practice or play based on a non-existent injury, the overall balance likely tips in favor of trying to find a way to claw back the power the players have created by claiming, in an industry rife with injuries, that they aren’t healthy enough to work — even if they are.