That said, even this sort of optimism may seem a little premature, given the relative infancy of the research. Gregory Carter, chief medical officer of Providence St. Luke’s Rehabilitation Medical Center in Spokane, Washington, has extensively reviewed the available literature on psychedelics and brain injury. He, too, believes there is promise, if only in theory right now. “Most of this is still a hypothetical situation,” Carter says. “I do not think the current database in humans is anywhere near adequate to support the use in human subjects with brain injury.”
Carter also cautions against the inherent risks of athletes—or anyone—taking part in self-guided psychedelic regimens. “Speaking as a physician, I think self-medicating always poses a higher risk,” he says. “I do think psychedelics do hold tremendous therapeutic value for many conditions, including brain injury. However they need to be used in a monitored, controlled situation. There is still much we do not know about all psychedelic drugs, including dosing paradigms and interactions with other drugs.”
Brandon Weiss, an assistant professor at Johns Hopkins University’s Center for Psychedelic and Consciousness Research, says that psychedelics pose no known harms “that are unique to brains with tissue damage or cognitive symptoms.” He also echoes Carter’s sentiments about more research being needed that directly studies how these compounds can treat traumatic brain injury and other neurological disorders. (The Hopkins Center is currently conducting a study of the potential of psilocybin in treating Alzheimer’s disease.) “We have not yet found actual structural, neuroimaging evidence of these sorts of repairs, post-psychedelic intervention,” he notes. “There really isn’t clear evidence that the reparative neuroplasticity that we’ve found in animals has translated to humans.”
Weiss, though, is working towards testing the premise. He’s part of a research team currently recruiting military veterans to evaluate the effectiveness and safety of a number of interventions—including the psychedelic compounds ibogaine and 5-MeO-DMT—in the treatment of cognitive functioning symptoms associated with traumatic brain injury. If indeed such treatments prove effective in treating the military’s so-called “wounded warriors,” then it stands to reason they’d be similarly beneficial to the banged, bruised, and even brain-injured gladiators of professional contact sports.
The NFL and NFLPA (the labor union representing NFL players) do not currently list ayahuasca, or other classical psychedelics like psilocybin, in any of their policies prohibiting performance-enhancing drugs or substances of abuse. (The joint drug policy does screen for MDMA, better known as ecstasy, another psychedelic-like drug being investigated as a mental health treatment.) NFLPA representatives confirm that they are aware of players experimenting with compounds like ayahuasca or magic mushrooms. The union aims to serve as a resource for its player members to help inform their usage of substances as it relates to the drug policy.
Nevertheless, Jordan Poyer maintains that league officials monitor players’ social media accounts. He says that every time he has returned from an ayahuasca retreat in Costa Rica or the Amazon jungle, he has been subjected to a drug test.
Beyond the potential in treating traumatic brain injury, Poyer’s own psychedelic excursions have proved much more, as they say, “holistic.” It improved his relationships with his wife and young daughter. He no longer abuses alcohol. And crucially, it disentangled his identity from that of his on-field role—something he found especially valuable as he entered NFL Free Agency, no longer rostered on a professional squad.
When we met in June, Poyer was holding out hope that he’d be re-signed with the Bills, if only to retire with the team that made him a superstar. “I don’t need to go out there and play 17 games. I can go out there and be on the practice squad, to be around the guys. Teach them about breathwork. Teach them about plant medicine. Teach them about the world,” he told me.
Days before the NFL season kicked off, Poyer got his wish. He’s returned to Buffalo, earning a spot on the practice squad for the 2025 season. It’s a chance to train up the team’s younger safeties: in reading offenses, ball-tracking, tackling, and, it would seem, in other, higher concerns, as a new breed of hyper-versatile, two-way NFL player—part All-Pro, part healer.
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