Uninvited Guest

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I think I’m done.

 It feels weird to actually say that, but I’ve been flirting with the idea for a while. Despite the fact that I haven’t worn a helmet since 2021, the “want” to come back and play has never left. I’d be lying if I said it was completely gone now. I think a part of me always will, but that part has gotten smaller and smaller everyday. This obsession was the only thing that consumed me, and now I notice days and weeks where I haven’t thought about it at all. A part of that is physical. Knowing that my body doesn’t respond the same way that it used to, and that I’m still dealing with this ankle that was supposed to take eight weeks which slowly rolled into about two years now. Most of it is mental. Just having space from this thing I’ve done for so long and thinking about new opportunities that excite me and what the future will bring. Usually I wouldn’t have a lament over something like this, but we’ve spent so much time together it’s only fair that we can have one last talk.

When I first played football, I hated it. I had zero desire to play. My mom forced me to play and ironically enough my pops was against it, despite him playing professionally for many years. I was an athletic kid.I had fun being outside and playing. I was competitive, but I wasn’t into sports. Even now, although I am a champion of sports and their importance, I wouldn’t consider myself as “being into sports”. At eight years old, my mom said I had to play a sport, so I picked football. I wanted to play running back but the coach’s son played running back, so I had to play defensive tackle. I don’t have many memories of playing at this time, but whenever I bring up my second grade playing days, Jerrol, my older brother, always reminds me of a time of me getting trucked as a child during a game he was watching and someone asking him, “Isn’t that your brother?”, and him reluctantly confirming.

The next time I played football was in 8th grade. Before this, I skateboarded pretty much everyday with my friends and with aspirations to be a professional skater, but at this age I started to notice two things. One was that Jerrol was the coolest person I knew, and I wanted to be just like him. The other was that my pops was giving him a lot of attention because he played football and needless to say, I wanted that as well. So skating wasn’t cool to me anymore and football was. I wasn’t any good and I didn’t realize how great my brother was until people saw my last name when I got to high school. My name changed from Jamell to Jerrol’s little brother and I was in his shadow. And both of us were in our father’s shadow who played at Purdue and played for seven years in the NFL. But the immediate effects of being Jerrol’s little brother were much worse. He was a senior and I was a freshman. He won defensive MVP in the state of Nevada and went off to the University of Hawaii to play there on scholarship, and left me with big shoes to fill. Here are the cliff notes on my high school career: played JV my sophomore year, grew way too fast and broke my leg my junior year, and had an okay season my senior year with no offers. I knew I still wanted to play and I knew I had the potential to be a good player so decided to go to the only school that was extending an opportunity in Victor Valley College. I spent a year there and then transferred to Eastern Arizona College, another juco, for another year. They both sucked and had their own problems, but they gave me an opportunity to keep playing. Fast forward after my second year, back home in Vegas patiently waiting for a scholarship until I got a phone call from a coach telling me about The University of Alabama at Birmingham. I had never heard of it, but the only thing I gathered from our talk was that they wanted to give me a full ride and they would play Florida the upcoming season, so I got on a plane and didn’t look back.

During my last seasons at UAB I finally started to think, “I might be able to play in the NFL” It never really crossed my mind because the only thing I cared about was getting my degree. As we kept winning more games and I kept playing well, the more that idea became concrete. I signed with the 49ers as an undrafted free agent in 2019. The time I spent there was good but I had imposter syndrome. I felt like I did not belong there at all and my personal life was affecting my play. I didn’t make the team and decided to play in the XFL, hoping to bounce back into the NFL after one season. Then of course I got hurt, placed on IR, and then the pandemic happened. A year later I got signed to the Cardinals and stayed with my brother, who was already living in Phoenix. I was doing well in training camp, but got hurt again, hurting my ankle which would eventually need surgery. Even after going under the knife and a year of PT, my ankle still hasn’t healed enough for me to compete at that level again, but I had to make a decision. So here we are now.

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The beautiful thing about football, and sports in general, is that it is a meritocracy. You can go from nobody to someone very quickly. It felt good to be good at something. Like really good. And it felt better being recognized for that talent. I remember walking into the facility feeling invisible my entire first year in Birmingham and how it seemed like everyone knew my name now after the first game of my senior year. I remember that feeling, being pissed off that everyone could finally see I was a good player but secretly relishing that recognition. And football gave me that. And took it away. It felt good to be wanted. So I did anything to keep it, knowing that it wouldn’t last forever.

I never would describe myself as having a football temperament. I would say I am a pretty calm and reserved type of person, often keeping to myself. I can remember having a meeting with my defensive coordinator and my new position coach after my first season at UAB and one thing he said stuck with me. In a thick southern accent with a hammer packed in his lip, he started, “ Jamell is a good player. He comes in, does what he’s asked to do, takes care of business off the field and in the classroom. He’s a nice guy. But we don’t want any linebackers or D lineman that are nice guys. We need them to be pricks. So son, I need you to be a prick. Can you do that for me?”  I said, “Yes sir,” and walked out of his office. I listened to him but I couldn’t turn it on and off. It wasn’t my nature to be that type of person, but when I started becoming this version of myself, I began to see things change in my favor. I started getting some attention, and more opportunities. They won’t admit it, but coaches like that. That dominance. The shit talking and embarrassing someone on the field. It’s an attitude that exudes extreme confidence. It’s stepping on the field no matter if it’s a game, practice, or walk through, and saying “I’m the best player on this field”, and believing it. It’s what allowed me to have a lot of success in this game playing defense and it’s what made me fearless. But slowly that confidence turned into arrogance.

The only way I can describe my relationship to the game was beneficially toxic. Through this game I was given almost everything I have, from the places I got to see, the people I’ve met along the way, and the experiences and lessons I’ve gained. I owe much of the person I am today to football and I wouldn’t be here without it. I am forever grateful for what football has done for me and my development as a man. But I would be surely mistaken to not touch on the fact that things were never perfect. As far as what this game can do to you mentally and physically, I don’t have to look too far to see what can happen. My pops has had over 11 surgeries ( and will probably need more) and my brother has had five on one knee alone. All of us have our own complicated relationship to the sport today. To make it out with some arthritis, a few broken bones, and a janky ankle, I would say I’m lucky. This game has brought me to the lowest points of my life. It made me devoted, only caring to be a good player and not noticing when I wasn’t a good friend, teammate, brother, son, or partner. I wasn’t always the easiest person to be around and I know I was hard to love at times. I would sacrifice anything to get where I wanted. And if I thought you were getting in the way of my goals, I was merciless. No quarter. The only thing that mattered was winning at all cost. In this environment where being violent, dominant, and unforgiving is celebrated, it’s hard to connect with others that don’t do what you do. Much of my own identity and self worth were connected to this game, and when it was taken from me, I felt lost. I’m sure many of my teammates who have ended their journey as well can agree with that statement. In football there is no you, only we. Being myself was never celebrated, being told often to put the books down. Bring that dawg out. Personality doesn’t get you on the field, making plays do. So I did my best to be that guy. But when you’re left alone after being this version of yourself for so long, you forget who you ever were. And you can’t go back to being who you were, only something new. Something for the better.

Throughout this journey that life has put me on through football, I can only remember two years when I genuinely had fun playing football. This isn’t to say that football isn’t fun or that I don’t love it, but for me, I wasn’t a natural and never felt like I belonged. I felt like an outsider. Like someone would know that I wasn’t supposed to be there. Those two seasons were 2012, my sophomore year of high school on JV, and 2018, my senior year at UAB. Those were the only two years I felt like maybe this is for me. The thing that connects me to both of those seasons were how much I cared for my teammates and how close we were. That sophomore year, we had a bunch of really talented players and some that could have played varsity, but no one did. Everyone played JV together and we ended up going undefeated that year. As we went on to our junior and senior years, things changed. People got hurt or just quit playing altogether, things became clique-y, and all anyone cared about was trying to get offers. I know I did. But things had changed and those kids in oversized JV jerseys were gone. In 2018, I was heading into the season with an idea that this might be my last time playing football. So I treated it like such. I was unapologetically me, while also training the hardest I ever had. I stopped worrying about the pressure of what the coaches wanted and only cared about earning the respect of my teammates. Everyone had their own story in that locker room, but we were all connected and got to share that one chapter with each other.  

When someone would ask me if I loved football I would always say I loved playing, but I didn’t love it. Now I know that I do love it, but I don’t care for it like I once did. It feels like going through a breakup except everyone wants to always talk to you about it. Then you stalk your ex on everything and see that she’s doing fine; actually better without you. With someone that’s way more talented and better looking than you ever were. Now you tell someone your sob story and they need to know everything about it because it is exciting to know some that played professionally. Unfortunately my experience was not very glamorous. I played on two NFL teams. I never made a 53 man roster and never played in a regular season game. I made a decent amount of money but nothing to write home about. Most of my days were spent training twice a day for six days a week waiting for a phone call. Not being able to take a break, or go on a trip, because I had to be ready. I’m not trying to paint a picture to garner your sympathy. This was the path I decided to walk down. I chose to put every other aspect of my life on the back burner to try and make this thing happen. And I’m fine with that. I say that to say, my experience wasn’t all that. But when it was good, it was good. I can’t begin to think about what my life would look like without football, so I am thankful for all the lessons and hardships I’ve endured in my life as an athlete. The thing I’ll miss the most about football is surprisingly practice. I never was never nervous playing in games but practice was everything to me. I loved putting in the work and slowly getting better. Practicing a move in 1-on-1’s & not landing it, but throwing it in the game and coming up with a sack. My favorite though is the stuff you never see, especially the moments between the whistles. It’s cutting up with your teammates when you’re supposed to be locked into whatever is going on. It’s the collective groan when the head coach restarts the entire practice after you’ve been on the field for 45 minutes. Or when it is your 12th time reloading the play because someone keeps fucking up. It’s getting chewed out and looking over at your teammates dying laughing and trying to keep a straight face. It’s sucking your teeth when your coach tells you to “Get ‘em choppin”, and you start jogging in place waiting for that whistle. I could go on, but it’s the good with the bad. It’s embracing the suck with your teammates not knowing those days are numbered.

It can be scary to leave something you’ve known for so long. I was recently offered a job to coach by one of my former coaches and someone I respect greatly. I initially said yes but ended up turning it down. It felt too easy to say yes and get back into the swing of that life again but from a new perspective. Does this mean I’m completely done with the game? Who knows. What I do know is how terrifying it sounds trying to make a career out of writing, but that is exactly why I need to try. I found a new passion that I’m ready to attack with the same enthusiasm as I did with my first love. It’s exciting and daunting to be at the bottom of the mountain again, but I can’t look up yet. I’m just taking it one step at a time.

Thank you for reading.