Tensions Mount Over LA28 Flag Football: Goodell, NFL Stars Champion Olympic Push While Owners Hesitate

As the countdown to the 2028 Los Angeles Olympic Games gains momentum, a unique debate is emerging at the heart of America’s most dominant sports league. Flag football, a fast-paced, non-contact variation of the traditional game, has officially been added to the Olympic program for LA28. While the move has been widely celebrated across youth organizations, international federations, and especially among NFL players eager to represent their country, it has created a rare fracture at the top of the professional football hierarchy.

NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell, alongside many of the league’s most high-profile athletes, has thrown his support behind flag football’s Olympic debut. The league has even partnered with the International Federation of American Football (IFAF) to promote the sport globally. But behind closed doors, some team owners are voicing deep concerns. They’re not sold on the idea of lending their players—who are valuable investments—to what they see as a risky and largely symbolic international competition.

What started as a feel-good story of the NFL supporting the global growth of football is now evolving into a tense standoff. And the stakes aren’t just about a sport. They’re about power, image, control—and who ultimately gets to shape football’s future.

On paper, the NFL’s alignment with flag football at LA28 looks like a win for everyone. The sport is safer, accessible, and already growing rapidly in youth and international communities. Flag football is being played by millions of kids, men, and women across the world. It has exploded in popularity, especially in countries where the contact-heavy, gear-laden version of American football remains impractical to implement at scale.

The inclusion of flag football in the Olympics represents a watershed moment—a chance to showcase a more inclusive, dynamic, and global version of the sport. And the NFL, hungry to internationalize its brand, sees it as a golden opportunity. So do the players.

Stars like Tyreek Hill, Micah Parsons, George Kittle, and Saquon Barkley have publicly expressed excitement about the chance to don Team USA uniforms. For them, the Olympics represent a unique and rare goal: to compete not just for individual success, but national pride. The chance to be called an Olympian is something few football players ever imagined possible.

Roger Goodell has embraced this groundswell. Under his leadership, the NFL has actively invested in flag football development worldwide. The league co-hosts international tournaments, funds youth outreach in Africa, Europe, and Asia, and has even floated the idea of NFL-backed “Dream Teams” to compete in the Olympics—drawing comparisons to the 1992 USA Basketball Dream Team that helped globalize the NBA.

But some NFL owners are pumping the brakes.

Their concerns are rooted in risk management. The average NFL player is worth tens of millions in contracts, bonuses, and future team projections. Even if flag football is a low-contact sport, it still carries the potential for injury. And worse, it falls outside the tight control of the NFL calendar. Owners are wary of players training for, and competing in, an international tournament during what should be the offseason—the one time of year when they’re supposed to recover and prepare for the grueling regular season.

One anonymous AFC team executive recently said, “It’s admirable that the league wants to be part of the Olympics, but we don’t run a charity. If my starting wideout tears an ACL playing in the Olympics in July, how does that help us win in January?”

This sentiment is not isolated. Several owners have reportedly expressed concerns during recent league meetings. Some have floated the idea of barring players under contract from participating in the Olympics entirely, citing clauses in standard NFL contracts that prohibit “high-risk non-football activities.” Whether flag football qualifies under that language remains a matter of interpretation—and likely, future negotiation.

Goodell, sensing the backlash, has tried to thread the needle. He’s emphasized that no player will be forced to participate. He’s also suggested that the Olympic flag football squads could feature a mix of retired NFL stars, emerging free agents, and players from alternative leagues like the UFL or CFL, rather than current franchise cornerstones.

But that idea has gained little traction among players, many of whom see the Olympics as an opportunity to elevate the game on their own terms—not as a sideshow or marketing stunt, but as a real competition worthy of their best. The players union, which has been relatively quiet so far, is expected to become more vocal as LA28 draws nearer.

There’s also the cultural factor. For decades, football has remained one of the few major American sports not represented in the Olympic Games. Baseball, basketball, soccer, even skateboarding and breakdancing—all have found their way into the Olympic spotlight. For many players, especially younger ones, this is about more than football. It’s about legitimacy, pride, and being part of something bigger.

Take, for example, Odell Beckham Jr.’s recent comments during a podcast appearance. “Man, if I had the chance to put that Team USA jersey on and go win gold in front of the world, you think I’m saying no? That’s legacy stuff. That’s history. It ain’t about contracts. It’s about greatness.”

From a strategic standpoint, it’s easy to see why Goodell is doubling down on Olympic flag football. The NFL has long sought to expand its global reach. Games in London, Germany, and soon Brazil are part of that vision. Partnering with the Olympics—perhaps the most global sporting platform on Earth—is an obvious extension. It could bring American football to millions of new fans, open up merchandising and broadcast opportunities, and reinforce the NFL’s role as a global leader in sports innovation.

But this push also risks creating a public rift at the highest level of the league. If owners begin issuing ultimatums or pressuring players not to participate, it could spark a confrontation that reverberates beyond the Olympics. Players are increasingly empowered, vocal, and brand-conscious. They understand their value, and many are prepared to push back against restrictive measures.

The standoff over Olympic flag football also reflects a deeper philosophical divide: should the NFL operate as a risk-averse business entity prioritizing asset protection, or as a cultural institution that encourages its athletes to become global ambassadors?

That question will only intensify as LA28 approaches. The first Olympic flag football tryouts and rosters are expected to be announced in 2026. By then, the NFL will have to decide what kind of role it wants to play—and whether it’s willing to let its players write a new chapter in football’s global story.

In the meantime, expect the lobbying to continue. Goodell is meeting with IOC officials and international sports federations to align efforts. Players are already teasing Olympic flag football on social media, rallying fans behind the vision. And quietly, in back rooms and boardrooms, owners are asking their legal teams to comb through contracts, searching for ways to retain control.

Flag football’s inclusion in the LA28 Olympics was supposed to be a celebration—a chance to bring America’s most beloved sport to the world stage in a new, exciting way. Instead, it has exposed the tension between vision and caution, between growth and protection, between players and the people who sign their checks.

Whether unity can be found—or whether this issue becomes a wedge between NFL stakeholders—remains to be seen. But one thing is certain: in the battle for the flag, the game is just getting started.