NFL Gets Discipline Wrong Again With Greg Hardy's Reduced Suspension

— -- "However, 10 games is simply too much..."

-- Arbiter Harold Henderson

Never underestimate the NFL's Friday news dump. This week, it included word that Dallas defensive end Greg Hardy's suspension would be reduced from 10 games to four and the subsequent dismissal of a case in which Hardy was alleged to have beaten and threatened to kill his then-girlfriend.

Nearly a year after video of Ray Rice punching his then-fiancé, and the NFL is exactly two games tougher on domestic violence thanks to an arbiter's decision.

Henderson doesn't find that the NFL abused discretion in investigating the disturbing details of the case -- including filing legal papers in North Carolina to see photographs of Hardy's alleged victim after the beating. Other details include that the case was only dropped after prosecutors said they were unable to gain the cooperation of the alleged victim for the second trial on account of an out-of-court settlement with Hardy.

At least in this case, the NFL recognized the severity of Hardy's actions in light of the evidence of issuing the initial 10 games.

Yet with these facts on the table, the arbiter didn't insinuate that Hardy had been mistreated, railroaded or maligned. The decision -- 10 games is simply too much -- takes place within the skewed universe of NFL discipline. In that context, one that looks at domestic abuse as an off-the-field distraction, Henderson can ostensibly think an employer like the NFL overreached when it adjusted a two-game suspension to an indefinite one for Rice, or in issuing 10 games to Hardy.

It's a universe that allows Cowboys owner Jerry Jones to issue a victory statement welcoming Hardy back to the team because that's six more games the Cowboys will have an excellent player made cheap through his alleged abuse of a woman. Jones didn't even bother with the meaningless platitudes about how seriously the team takes domestic violence or how they will get Hardy the help he may or may not allegedly need.

And here is the problem with expecting justice in NFL discipline: You won't find it, and it might make you sick to your stomach in the process. Trying to draw some straight moral line between Tom Brady and deflated balls and throwing a woman on a pile of assault rifles according to the alleged victim, is a losing game.

In the chaos of last fall, when sponsors openly questioned the moral character of the league, the NFL approached discipline like an emergency room doctor trying to stabilize a patient. A new code of conduct policy was crafted and put in place, and the NFL Players Association balked when the league tried to apply earlier infractions to the new policy.

Then comes the fallout. Two of the three penalties issued against the marquee abusers during the crisis have now been overturned -- and Henderson denied Vikings running back Adrian Peterson's appeal of his suspension.

In Peterson's case, Henderson said the commissioner's exempt list didn't count as discipline, so the arbiter really must think the actions of Hardy merited a total of four games.

Hardy was arguably the worst offender, though any actual debates about this might again make you reach for the Maalox. And yet, those details weren't so damaging that Henderson couldn't weigh them against 10 games and feel some sense of injustice -- for Hardy, not his alleged victim.

Ten games isn't simply too much, nor would be eight or six. Four games is a failed drug test -- but again, these comparisons feel trite in the face of actual violence perpetrated against real people.

It's the NFLPA's job to advocate for players like Hardy, Aaron Hernandez and any of the other small percentage of bad actors employed by the league. And here that advocacy means the NFL is exactly two games tougher than it was when it issued the initial two-game punishment to Rice -- a punishment that was almost universally panned as weak and tone-deaf.

The NFL and NFLPA should be working together to agree on a fair policy that treats abusers seriously and lets the many good men in the league do their jobs without having to decide whether they feel good being a locker away from a pass-rusher whose ex-girlfriend testified at trial that she told Hardy she was ready to die that night.

But hey, 10 games is simply too much.

The reason NFL justice matters is because abusers so often don't face penalties in the criminal justice system. Honestly, it's an unfair spot for the league, which has come to recognize domestic violence as a crime and installed training to help players identify and prevent sexual violence.

The NFL is not the only company that suspends employees after legal charges -- look no farther than Subway's decision to suspend its relationship with spokesperson Jared Fogle after his home was raided. The new code of conduct policy is an appropriate way to address these situations.

But the NFL isn't the only entity that should be taking domestic violence more seriously. Part of the reason the Rice, Peterson and Hardy cases are so frustrating is the way the legal penalties didn't match the public or photographic evidence. We watched as Janay Rice was punched, and how a prosecutor's office with access to the video well before the public still declined to file charges and placed Rice in a diversionary program.

So here we are, a year later and two games tougher. The league and the players association have got to work together to make this process work better.