Jemele Hill, Howard Bryant and Manish Mehta discuss the policy that will prevent Junior Seau's daughter Sydney from speaking at her father's Hall of Fame induction ceremony. (2:07) 
 
 A Pro Football Hall of Fame policy will prevent members of Junior Seau's family from speaking at the deceased linebacker's induction ceremony in August. 
 
 Seau's daughter, Sydney, was listed as a presenter on her father's behalf in a Hall of Fame news release sent July 15. However, she will be commenting only on a video when her late father enters the Hall of Fame on Aug. 8. 
 
 The Hall of Fame said in a statement that is consistent with its policy concerning the induction of deceased players. 
 
 The daughter of Junior Seau is upset that she won't be able to speak on her father's behalf in Canton. AP Photo/Denis Poroy 
 
 "The policy of the Pro Football Hall of Fame since 2010 regarding individuals enshrined posthumously provides for an expanded presenting video (longer than the videos of living inductees) followed by the traditional unveiling of the bronzed bust and no additional comments made from the podium," the statement said. 
 
 "This policy is not precedent setting and was implemented for the first time in 2011 when former Los Angeles Rams great Les Richter was inducted posthumously." 
 
 In the case of the Seaus, the policy fosters heightened sensitivity because of Seau's suicide in 2012 at age 43. After his death, he was diagnosed with chronic traumatic encephalopathy, or CTE, a neurodegenerative disease that has been found in the brains of dozens of deceased NFL players due to repeated head trauma. 
 
 "It's frustrating because the induction is for my father and for the other players, but then to not be able to speak, it's painful," Sydney Seau told The New York Times, which earlier reported the story Friday. "I just want to give the speech he would have given. It wasn't going to be about this mess. My speech was solely about him." 
 
 The video presentation will last about five minutes, longer than the usual videos by about two minutes, the Hall said. And Sydney Seau will make remarks in that video. 
 
 Seau's family filed a wrongful death lawsuit against the NFL in 2013 alleging that the league concealed the dangers of football-related head trauma over a period of several years. 
 
 Joe Horrigan, spokesperson for the Pro Football Hall of Fame, told the Times that in the past, for deceased inductees, what presenters said repeated what was in the video, and so a few years ago the Hall eliminated speeches in these cases. 
 
 "There was an acceptance speech for deceased players but it got redundant," Horrigan told the Times. "The honor is supposed to be for the individual." 
 
 Besides Seau, the 2015 Hall of Fame class consists of running back Jerome Bettis, guard Will Shields, wide receiver Tim Brown, defensive end Charles Haley, center Mick Tingelhoff, and former general managers Bill Polian and Ron Wolf. 
 
 Seau played 20 seasons for three teams, was voted to the Pro Bowl 12 times and was named first-team All-Pro eight times. Seau played in 268 games, the second-most of any linebacker in NFL history. He finished with 1,522 tackles, 56.5 sacks and 18 interceptions. 
 
 Seau played in two Super Bowls, including the Chargers' only Super Bowl appearance in franchise history. He was named to the 1990s All-Decade team by the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Seau was inducted into the Chargers Hall of Fame in 2011. 
 
 "We're not the NFL, but the Pro Football Hall of Fame," David Baker, the executive director of the Hall of Fame, told the Times. "Our mission is to honor the heroes of the game, and Junior is a hero of the game. We're going to celebrate his life, not the death and other issues." 
 
 Information from The Associated Press was used in this report. ||||| Don’t pick up the phone when the Pro Football Hall of Fame calls, Rodney Harrison. They will want you to speak for Junior Seau at the induction ceremony, and you don’t want to do it. 
 
 Ditto for you, Bobby Ross. Let them leave a message; you’ll get back to them in September. Make yourselves indisposed, Spanos family. Bill Belichick: You haven’t a stitch to wear. 
 
 The Pro Football Hall of Fame will be burning the phone lines because it has chosen to not let Seau’s daughter speak at the induction ceremony August 8, as Ken Belson of the New York Times reported. Sydney Seau is still technically her father’s presenter, but ceremony organizers will replace the customary presenter’s speech with a five-minute highlight montage and prerecorded comments by Sydney that do not mention concussions, CTEs, suicide or anything uncomfortable or real about her father’s legacy. 
 
 Hall of Fame spokesman Joe Horrigan said family presentations tended to get “redundant" following the highlight montages, and heaven forbid anyone repeats themselves at a ceremony when old guys congratulate each other about how much tougher they were than today’s whippersnappers. Executive director David Baker veered off message, however: “We’re going to celebrate his life,” Baker said, “not the death and other issues.” 
 
 So Sydney Seau is the valedictorian reduced to holding a flag at graduation, lest she embarrass the principal by exercising a little freedom of thought. It’s cowardly, even by football’s lofty standards, to allow all the legends to chest-bump and bro-hug and tell the old by the light of the jukebox yarns but refuse a 21-year-old woman the chance to say, on her own terms, just what her father’s sacrifice really means to her. This is the Pro Football Hall of Fame’s call, not the NFL’s, but that makes it worse. There’s no reason for league higher-ups to whitewash the shield when independent operators are so eager to do it for them. 
 
 Denis Poroy/Associated Press 
 
 So Sydney will remain silent. But what happens after the highlight montage? The Hall of Fame induction ceremony is not the Academy Awards. The orchestra won’t swell. Billy Crystal won’t tell a gentle joke. No disembodied voice will announce “Ladies and Gentlemen: Mick Tingelhoff” while stage lights dim and backgrounds change. There’s a presenter’s speech, and then there’s an acceptance speech. Bronze busts cannot talk, and they cannot walk off the stage under their own power. Someone has to say a few words to put Seau’s career and his life into perspective, then stand beside the bust and smile. Organizers have foregone the acceptance speech before, for legends of bygone eras, but never for someone so fresh in our memories as Junior Seau. 
 
 It won’t be you, Leslie O’Neal. You are on vacation. Jason Taylor and Tedy Bruschi? Fishing trip together. Old ink-stained scribes of the San Diego Union-Tribune and other papers that covered Seau? You are just too darned busy with training camp coverage. 
 
 The Pro Football Hall of Fame has never been a sugarcoated fantasyland. It’s not a dumbed-down Gridiron Greats Coloring Book. The enshrinement ceremony has always featured battered, bent men hobbling to the podium, looking older than their years. It has always been about men left broken, or flat broke, when their playing days ended. The busts have always told stories about war, race, segregation and social change in addition to championships and touchdowns. The Pro Football Hall of Fame has always been about death and other issues, because it is part of the celebration of life. 
 
 Denis Poroy/Associated Press 
 
 The Pro Football Hall of Fame tells the story of Reggie White, dead at 43, enshrined posthumously, his son introducing him, his widow giving the acceptance speech, both of them, well, speaking. 
 
 The Pro Football Hall of Fame tells the story of Mike Webster, dead at 50, homeless, penniless and racked with physical and mental illnesses for most of his post-football life. It tells the stories of others who suffered a hundred different ways from the ravages of a sport that both gave generously and took away mercilessly. 
 
 The Pro Football Hall of Fame requires us to approach with the wide-eyed wonder of children, but with the wisdom of adults. The first story it ever told was of Jim Thorpe and the Carlisle Indian Industrial School: one of America’s greatest athletes, his career made possible by cultural eradication. The latest story it tells is of a player who did not know the risks he took each time he launched his body at another human, and the price he and his family paid. These are important, grown-up stories. 
 
 But the Pro Football Hall of Fame wants to shield our eyes like children. Or, more appropriately, shield its own eyes. 
 
 If silence is what the Pro Football Hall of Fame wants, then silence it should get. If you are asked to give Seau’s acceptance speech, turn the honor down. Tell them you have laryngitis. Tell them you have stage fright. Or tell them the truth that we are all thinking: that you believe Sydney Seau should be the one who gives the speech. 
 
 That goes for all of you: all the old Chargers, the Patriots and Dolphins, the USC teammates and high school coaches from Oceanside. All of the people who loved Seau most of all can show their love with silence. Make the Pro Football Hall of Fame toss one of its own low-level functionaries on the stage to mumble off a Wikipedia entry while the audience shuffles and coughs. Or let’s turn a moment of silence into 15 minutes of silence we each keep in our own way: by remembering Seau’s greatness, lamenting his loss or remembering how evils of all kinds go unchecked when powerful people choose to ignore them. 
 
 Winslow Townson/Associated Press 
 
 And then, when the silence and discomfort ends, Tim Brown can take the stage. Brown, Seau’s friend until the very end, can tell America that he wants to hear Sydney Seau speak. 
 
 Then Jerome Bettis can say he wants Seau’s daughter to speak. Then Will Shields. One by one, each player who has felt the pain, who has felt the fear, who wakes up dizzy or creaky or has spoken to an old teammate who is no longer the same or has grown old too young can demand to hear the voice of a young woman who lost her father to an illness he did not understand. 
 
 Chances are, that young woman will have a lot more to say about the father than the illness. 
 
 Let’s fight the Pro Football Hall of Fame’s conspiracy of silence with our own silence. Respectful silence, but also awkward silence and shameful silence for those who fear the speaking of the truth. Turn the Hall of Fame down. Put a megaphone in front of the Seau family’s absent voice. 
 
 Of course, if the Hall asks me to give Seau’s acceptance speech, I will jump at the chance. But trust me, right now it would be much better off with Sydney Seau.
– The Pro Football Hall of Fame will posthumously induct Junior Seau next month, but don't expect to hear speeches from his family—who won't be allowed to utter a word. The Hall plans to show a 5-minute video that honors the star linebacker without mentioning Seau's diagnosis of traumatic brain injury, his suicide in 2012, or his family's lawsuit against the NFL, the New York Times reports. "It’s frustrating because the induction is for my father and for the other players, but then to not be able to speak, it’s painful," says Seau's daughter, Sydney. "I just want to give the speech he would have given. It wasn’t going to be about this mess." The Hall says it's no snub, because inductions for deceased inductees in recent years haven't included speeches (which were banned for being redundant and lengthy). "We’re going to celebrate his life, not the death and other issues," says the Hall's executive director, David Baker. But not everyone agrees: "So Sydney Seau is the valedictorian reduced to holding a flag at graduation, lest she embarrass the principal by exercising a little freedom of thought," writes Mike Tanier at Bleacher Report. At issue is the Seau family's 2013 lawsuit, which accused the NFL of hiding players' risk of head trauma for years, ESPN reports. The suit became part of a class-action lawsuit by thousands of retired players, but the Seaus pulled out when a settlement said nothing about their claims. Now comes the induction ceremony of a man who killed himself at age 43: "It’s been like planning a wedding party without the groom," says Junior's ex-wife, Gina.