By Scott Fujita
The New York Times
During my career, it seemed as if every retired player who visited one of my teams said some variation of the same thing:
“Never take it for granted. What I wouldn’t give to suit up and hear the crowd roar just one more time.”
For some reason, I never thought I would be that guy.
I just assumed that when I walked away, that would be it. No turning back. On to bigger and better things. I had a brash sort of arrogance about it.
I retired after last season, but this preseason the mere glimpse of training camp images on television caused my back and knees to begin aching. Why would I want to go through that again?
Still, any time I made a flippant comment to a former coach or player about not missing playing football, the reply would be something like: “Wait until that first Sunday of the regular season when you’re just watching. And trust me, you will be watching.”
Sunday was that day.
And I hate to say it, but they were right.
I was in New Orleans to watch the Saints take on the Atlanta Falcons. Many in New Orleans were calling this the most anticipated home opener since the Saints returned to the Superdome for “Monday Night Football” in 2006, after the devastation of Hurricane Katrina.
Sunday was also essentially the first time in 25 years that I would not be on a football team for the opening game of the season.
I woke up unsure of what emotions might come over me during the day, but open to whatever the experience might bring. And there were a lot of things that I just didn’t expect.
This was my first time entering a football stadium as a fan with a ticket, and I felt lost, in more ways than one. This is a place I once considered home, and I couldn’t even figure out which door to enter or how to get to where I needed to go. For years, I knew exactly where to find my parking space, how to get to my locker and where the field was. Now, that comfort level was gone.
I finally asked security if they could point me in the direction of the home team’s locker room. I thought that once I found a familiar place, I could figure out the rest.
But when I made my way to the locker room, I actually felt more out of place.
Lost and found at the same time, I guess.
Read the full article here.