Dr. Ann McKee, chief neuropathologist at Boston University who testified before a House Judiciary committee on football brain injuries in 2009, explains in the film that “because a young athlete’s brain is still developing, the effects of a concussion, or even many smaller hits over a season, can be far more detrimental, compared to the head injury in an older player.” (Often accused of trying to kill football, Dr. McKee is a devoted Packers fan. “I’m a cheesehead!” she proclaims proudly.)

One of the film’s most jarring moments comes when Hall of Fame wide receiver Cris Carter declares, “Our best coaches are coaching our best players, and that’s in professional football. Our worst coaches are coaching the most critical position, and that is the 9-, 10-, 11-year-old people.”

When I talked to Pamphilon last week, he explained, “At this level, you have no idea what a coach’s qualifications are as an instructor or his maturity as a man.”

Many organizations, including Pop Warner, simply require coaches to complete an online course every three years.

On the Pop Warner league’s website, you can read that there is “an absence of catastrophic head and neck injuries and disruptive joint injuries found at higher levels”—but the attribution for this information isn’t offered. Pamphilon, on the other hand, cites a study at Virginia Tech in which two third-graders collided with an impact that would be considered high for college players.

Pop Warner officials did make some rule changes last year: Contact was prohibited during two-thirds of practice time, and drills that involved full speed head-on blocking and tackling were eliminated.

Still, Pamphilon is skeptical of encouraging any young boy to play tackle football. “I’m not in favor of letting anyone play football unless they understand the consequences,” he said. “I don’t think anyone should play without being informed—whatever age he is. A lot of parents pressure their kids to play, and I absolutely think that is wrong.”

Pamphilon first became concerned about football injuries when his own son, Alex, acquired a love of the game almost as soon as he could walk. The film includes home-video footage of father and young son tossing a football around; when Alex gets hit, he rolls over onto his father and laughs, “Don’t crush my skull.”

“I won’t,” his father assures him with a hug. To his parents’ great relief, Alex, now 14, eventually decided football was not going to be his thing.

But if there’s one person who functions as the “face” of The United States of Football, it’s eight-year NFL veteran-turned-country-rock singer Kyle Turley, who made headlines back in 2001 while playing for the Saints when he grabbed the hands of New York Jets’ defender Damien Robinson and pried them off the face mask of Saints quarterback Aaron Brooks, then pulled Robinson’s helmet off and threw it across the field. (He later defended his actions by saying he thought Robinson was going to break Brooks’s neck.) Turley has become an outspoken critic of both the NFL and the Players Association for lack of action to assist players suffering from the effects of CTE.