Andrew Luck helped me understand giving up football

Growing up, I wanted to be Andrew Luck.

As a 12-year-old watching Luck dominate at Stanford and immediately switch to the NFL as a rookie in Indianapolis, I told my parents that was the kind of person I wanted to be. Shoot, I even said I wanted to go to Stanford and major in architecture, just like him.

After reading ESPN about his life away from football Seth WickershamI realized that Lucks’ process and series of self-discovery outside of football sounded a lot like my own.

Getting out of football is a long road filled with ups and downs that would put any raging ocean to shame. When you commit to any sport and make it everything you put your mind to, make it every fiber of your being, you have to master every aspect of it to make it what you always thought it would be.

All my life I have played football and thought about playing football. When playing football stopped being a thing in my life, it made me question who I really was. There were nights when I hated quitting; I hated myself for giving up the job I dreamed of as a five-year-old.

The story of Andrew Lucks, the true prince who was promised, the prospect who would take the torch from Peyton Manning and lead the Colts into a new era, resonates so strongly because of the idea of ​​perfection. The pressure of perfection takes its toll on someone. Luck battled through countless injuries, breaking down his body almost to the point of no return because football had made him perfect. The moments when you tell family and friends that you’re fine even though you’re walking around with injuries that should only be from a car accident. Still, the paper is due on Monday and the exercises are from 15:30 to 19:00, so there is no time to stop. I felt like I had to be perfect in everything because if I slipped even the slightest, everything would fall apart.

You had to make yourself feel invincible just to keep everything under control. I played defensive lineman; I can’t imagine what Andrew Luck had to do to stay in control. But the question is, what can be done after the game you gave your all is over?

What Luck told Wickersham about life after football and wanting to get back into the game without playing really resonated with me in many ways. When I wasn’t playing football, I was desperately looking for something to tie me back into the game if I couldn’t continue playing. For me it was writing. Talking about the game with others and helping people learn what was going on formed my connection to the sport that I left. For Luck, it could be coaching.

I think where I’m going with this is simple: Lucks’ retirement was bravery, not cowardice. If you force yourself to play a game like soccer that requires 100% commitment, the result can be not only physical but also mental deterioration. Onni decided to protect her body and mind, and it has been better.

In some ways, it makes me want to be more like him now than I did as a kid.