By Dr. Boyce Watkins
One of the saddest experiences in the world can be that of a professional football player. Sucked into the game by the stories of big name athletes signing multi-million dollar contracts, most of the players find that the riches don’t glitter as brightly as they might have hoped. They also find that what they thought would be a long, prosperous career is actually a short one, and that a few years of glory might be easily weighed down by a lifetime of back pain, bankruptcies, and serious brain damage.
Of course this isn’t the story of every professional football player, but it happens too many times to count. We’ve all heard the sad tale about the young man who traded in all of his academic opportunities in exchange for a hoop dream that never comes to fruition. There is nothing more hurtful to observe than a washed-up, unsuccessful athlete who’s been convinced that he’s not good at anything else. As I mentioned to Min. Louis Farrakhan during our forum in Chicago three weeks ago, “It’s sad that someone has told many of these young men that as long as you can throw a football, you never have to learn how to read.”
But the doom and gloom stories aren’t the only ones to be told, and they certainly aren’t the ones worthy of incessant media coverage. My favorite NFL story of all-time is that of Myron Rolle, the one you won’t likely see on ESPN.
Myron Rolle isn’t your typical athlete. He’s an extraordinary athlete. He was an All-American at Florida State University and was drafted in the 2010 NFL draft. He was punished by a lot of teams for being too smart to be the kind of mindless athletic mule that many teams hope for, having the audacity to go study at Oxford on a Rhodes Scholarship instead of immediately entering the NFL draft. Rolle had his own vision of the future, and it didn’t involve popping bottles at the club, smoking blunts on the weekends, or trying to carry a ball until he was 40 years old.
Like many other NFL athletes, Rolle finds himself considering retirement in his mid-twenties. Sure, he could keep playing if he wanted to, Lord knows he’s good enough. But instead, Rolle is retiring in order to go to medical school.
“I still received interest from a few teams, and it didn’t have to be over,” Rolle said to Lost Letterman. “Then I said to myself, ‘I can knock my head against the wall for 8-9 years or move on to medicine.’ I was leaving the game with no concussions and dexterity in both my hands, where I could be a neurosurgeon one day.”
If I had a son, I’d want him to be like Myron. When my daughters get married, I’d love for them to bring a man like this to the house. Myron understands a few things that most of us can only see once we are able to elevate our minds outside the psychological matrix that traps millions of black boys into believing that their brilliance only exists when they have a ball in their hands. Myron figured out that real money and career longevity are more likely to be obtained off the field, than on it. Even within the field of professional sports, the guys making the most money for the longest periods of time are the nerdy short guys who went to Harvard, not the big bulky dudes bashing their brains in for a dollar.
The other thing Myron understands is that sports can be a great way to prepare for life. When I went to college and found that I wasn’t fast enough to get a track scholarship, I turned that energy toward my academics (I’d never made good grades in my life). I found that being an athlete taught me the power of determination, work ethic, consistency and courage that served me well during the difficult challenges I faced on my way to earning a PhD. In fact, it was remaining focused during difficult times and in the face of serious racism which allowed me to become the only African American in the country to get a PhD in Finance during the year 2002…..I became the man that I am today from playing sports.
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