They're Not Your Cleats to Hang Up
As soon as Tom Brady's Buccaneers got bounced from the NFL playoffs, the speculation immediately began on his future. Where would the 45-year old future Hall of Famer play next year, if at all?
Plenty speculate that he's played his last game. Several years ago, Brady stated that his goal was to play to age 45, which many rolled their eyes at at the time (joke's on them). Others are hinting that he'll reunite with close friend and former Patriots offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels in Las Vegas, where McDaniels is now the head coach of the Raiders. Both of these groups share one thing in common: they have absolutely no say in the matter.
This is Tom Brady's career. It's Tom Brady's life. He gets to make that decision, whether you like it or not. Whether he plays for "your" team or not. Whether you care or not.
Some say he's earned the right to go out on his own terms because of the incredible success he's had in his career. But it's simpler than that. Provided one team offers him an opportunity to play (aka there's a market for him), he's earned the opportunity to decide what to do because he's an adult and a professional. Simple as that. Fans love to think that athletes owe them something. That they should stay loyal to their original organization, or consider their legacy and hang 'em up before they tarnish it with declining performance. But it's not their career. It's not their family. It's not their life.
Imagine this happening in your world.
"Hey, Bob. I really think it's time to retire. Your fingers don't move like they used to and your accounting production has really fallen off. Don't get me wrong, you're still a really productive member of this firm; but you used to be elite. I think it's time to think about your legacy and hang up the calculator."
Professional athletes are privileged to be able to make a ton of money playing a kids game. And, yes, ultimately, they make that big money because we as fans are willing to pay for their product. But it's not a privilege they've been given. They've earned it. Through years of hard work and immense talent. They are the best in the world at what they do, and they have a very small window in which to do two things: make money and do something they love. Some hang on a little longer because they're living a lifestyle that requires the former. Others are driven by the intrinsic joy of the latter. Either way, it's none of your business (sorry).
People lament Willie Mays stumbling in centerfield for the Mets, or Joe Namath playing his last season with the LA Rams. Michael Jordan in a Wizards jersey? Never looked right.
Fans will say that these legends should think about their fans, or their legacy, or be loyal to the organization that drafted them. Please. First off, professional sports is just that: professional. It's a business. And, yes, it may be a business that weaves itself into the fabric of our society, that stirs emotions, and that unites millions of passionate fans, but it is, at the end of the day, still a business. Furthermore, these are the best in the world at what they do. They got where they are through their own work ethic, talent, and unwavering self-confidence. Now, they're suddenly supposed to quit just because you doubt they can still do it? Doesn't work like that. They've bet on themselves their entire lives.
Secondly, put yourself in their shoes. You have a limited window to maximize your career earnings. Anything you do after your playing career will pale in comparison to your salary as an athlete. When your body inevitably declines and you can no longer perform at the required level--poof, it's over. For some, that time might come at 45. Others, 25. But it comes for all of them. Then the question becomes: what's next? Some need to ask the question because they didn't make enough during their playing days to live off forever. Others will have to ask it because they have half a life to live and need to figure out how to spend their time, having dedicating so much of the first half of it to the sport that they love.
Which brings me to a third point. Some athletes simply love what they do. They appreciate how fortunate they are. Not just for the money they make, but for how they make it. They're playing a game that they loved as a child, and are making a living doing it. I never played professional sports, but I have so many wonderful memories and friends from my time as an athlete. I was crushed when that part of my life was over, which for me came after college. I still miss the camaraderie, the competition, and even the literal blood, sweat, and tears that went into trying to be the best I could be. And I'm no Tom Brady.
As fans, we're often so passionate and dedicated to "our" team that we feel a part of it. That's the magical thing about sports. Sometimes it can become more than just a sport. It provides a sense of belonging to something bigger than ourself. At the end of the day, we don't know what makes these athletes tick; what is going on in their head, their heart, or their house.
Everyone is entitled to their opinion. I'm sure your colleagues have opinions about you. Doesn't mean you're going to listen to them, does it? You know what is right for you, not them. It's your pillow you need to lay your head on at the end of the day, not theirs. Same goes for professional athletes. We all get one trip around this merry-go-round. Who am I to tell someone else when to get off?