Chicago Bears cornerback Charles Tillman Associated Press

I loathe this sports topic, because it's so tedious and predictable, and is very likely a phony debate—i.e., something that gets goosed and rattled around in the media, but isn't really an argument to the public, which actually views the "debate" as a one-sided, common-sense no-brainer obvious to anyone who doesn't host a sports radio talk show. But it still gets stirred up at least a couple times a year, and it drives me a wee crazy, to the point I want to walk into the street in my bathrobe and yell at the neighborhood pigeons. So here's the deal:

Charles Tillman, a star cornerback for the Chicago Bears, said in an interview the other day that it was possible he would miss Sunday's big game with the Houston Texas if his pregnant wife went into labor. This delivery was not certain, just possible, but Tillman wanted to make his intention clear. Tillman loves his football team, but said his family was his top priority, and he wanted to be there with his spouse, Jackie, if it happened. So he was letting Chicago know.

Sounds reasonable, no? It wasn't even necessary to add some significant context: Tillman's second child, daughter Tiana, was born with a serious heart condition and required a transplant at six months of age. The Chicago Bears —his employer—respected Tillman's choice. "It's family first," Chicago head coach Lovie Smith said. "If there's something you feel like you need to do for your family, always do that."

That should have been that. But it's never that, because the topic is relatable (the birth of a child) and the universe has gone utterly bonkers about football. There were the usual croaky claims that Tillman needed prioritize football, since football pays the bills, the Houston game is a big game, and the regular season is only 16 commitments a year. A football reporter for NBC Sports—the network that will host Sunday night's Bears versus Texans contest—went to far as to suggest that NFL players attempt to avoid such conflicts by planning pregnancies that result in off-season childbirths.

I don't really know what to do with that opinion, other than walk to the nearest garage door and slowly hit my forehead against it.

On Thursday, the story moved again. Tillman announced via Twitter that the baby is coming Monday, and he's playing Sunday. It's not certain how Tillman knows for sure the baby is coming Monday. Maybe they're inducing labor. I'm not sure. Do I look like Dr. Oz? But either way, best wishes to the Tillman family. Again, their choice.

And that really should be that. Look: We are all getting little wacky over the stakes and significance of football, what it means to our lives and should mean to the fortunate people who can play it. The mania of the country's biggest sport has hopped the rail, to the point where rational human reactions get overpowered by a froth of rage. Remember the crazy national meltdown about those replacement refs in September? Those officials were definitely crummy, but to have a freakout reach the point where the President weighed in? It all feels a little embarrassing now. It was football! Sorry if you had the Packers over the Seahawks.

But there's something else, something more insidious: The pressuring of an athlete to choose football over family sounds like a clumsy, outdated cousin to the macho pressure that surrounded the game for too long around the topic of injuries. There is flat-out crisis unfolding in football around the topic of head injuries and their long-term implications—for too long, these injuries were regarded as a rite of passage, a ritual that hard guys were expected to pick themselves up from. That mentality threatens to unravel the entire sport—even NFL players have said they might hesitate to let their own children to play football. A mighty game is more fragile enterprise than it seems, and the He-Man rah-rah days need to stop. A new sensitivity is not a bad thing.

Football players—even if they are paid spectacular millions—need to be assured it's OK not to play football when real life intrudes. Of course, if healthy, they can choose to play. The point is, it's a choice. We all have football choices in our lives! You may chose to spend 10 hours this Sunday attached to the TV with bag of sour cream and onion potato chips strapped to your neck. You may think the Jaguars will make the playoffs. I salute your wacky free will.

So let's fly the spaceship down to planet Earth and get our priorities correct. There's supposed to be a corny part here where I say that no person who's lucky enough to be a parent will look back at his or her life and remember a November NFL game, but the truth is, not many people sit back on a Tuesday and remember a November NFL game. Seriously: Do you remember who the Bears beat last Sunday? (Answer: The Poughkeepsie Thunderducks. No: the Titans.) Much of it is meaningless as it happens! On Monday, the 1-7 Kansas City Chiefs are on national TV—there should be a mandatory $300 fine and 30 hours of community service for watching that.

It is the cliché of clichés, but there are bigger things than football. Charles Tillman should do whatever works for his family. Play or don't play, it's his call. Good for his family. Good for the Bears. This isn't really a debate.

Write to Jason Gay at