One by one they roll onto the football field, accompanied by a hush, and carry the wounded away.

In Week 8 alone, a Toro Workman in Pittsburgh, a Club Car in Arlington, Tex., and Cushman carts in St. Louis and New Orleans scooped up injured N.F.L. players and whisked them out of sight so that the games could resume.

Injury carts are the overlooked workhorses of the underbelly of football. Already this season, they have shuttled dozens of lame players away, including three Green Bay Packers hauled by a Taylor-Dunn cart in a single half. A line judge with a broken collarbone was carried away by a John Deere in Denver. A Jets player, after regaining consciousness, was strapped to the bed of a Cushman in New Jersey.

It happens often enough, usually several times a weekend, that “carted off” is football jargon, familiar enough even to fans to need no further explanation.

When an injury is serious enough to warrant a cart, fans sometimes stand and players often kneel. Tempered applause follows a loaded cart as it starts downfield. Acknowledgment from injured players, even the slightest wave or a pointed finger from someone cinched to a backboard, brings relief and cheers.