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Duerson's fear, that so many years of taking blows to the head on the football field were catching up on him, was confirmed under the microscope. He did indeed have CTE at an advanced stage.
McKee stresses that Duerson's donation of his brain in a suicide note was not something that they would wish repeated in any way. It was a tremendous tragedy. "Our first and foremost concern is that in no way do we want this to happen to any other individual. There's actually great hope for people who are concerned about themselves – this is a very slow-progressing disease and our understanding of CTE is growing every day."
But the diagnosis helps understand why Duerson ended his life the way he did. Of the 50 cases that have so far been diagnosed as having CTE at the brain bank, no fewer than 10 of them killed themselves, while others died in strange and violent ways such as wild car chases, gun accidents or drug overdoses.
For Alicia Duerson, her former husband's diagnosis has given her some comfort. "I'm really glad for our kids, it's brought closure. Their father killed himself and they really didn't understand why. Now they know he was sick, they know why."
Looking back on all the years on the football field, she's angry that nothing was ever said about the dangers. The NFL has in recent years begun to take CTE seriously, amending its rules and bequeathing the Bedford VA brain bank $1m to fund its research. "We were never educated about brain injuries," Alicia says.
In Duerson's heyday, she recalls, if a player took a knock, the coach would hold up two fingers and say "how many can you count?", the player would say "three" and the coach would send them back on to the field.
"They treated it like a joke," Alicia says. "But that wasn't a joke."