Institutional Responsibility & Identity Foreclosure
What We Owe Athletes Beyond the Game
***Trigger Warning: This post contains sensitive material relating to self-harm. If you are someone who is struggling, please call the Crisis hotline at 988***
There is no easy way to start this week’s newsletter. If you have been aware of sporting news, you have most likely heard the news that NFL wide receiver Rondale Moore died from a self-inflicted wound.
This hurts for so many reasons. Before anything, Moore was made in the image of God. This inherently gives him dignity, value, and worth. When an image bearer passes away, we should take solemn note and not be so quick to move on to the next moment. Next, Moore was a son, a brother, a friend, and a teammate. Others around him saw him and recognized his value and purpose in their own lives. Lastly, Moore struggled with injuries, having missed the last two seasons due to significant injuries. One could suspect that these ultimately lead to his decisions in the end.
I have spent the greater part of the last decade researching, writing, and speaking about athletic identity. It is my academic passion. I love learning how athletes think of themselves, what impacts that thinking, and how those thoughts came into fruition. However, there is a negative side to studying athletic identity. It is the unfortunate truth that researchers learn more every year. The truth is that athlete suicides have more than doubled in the last 20 years. While we don’t have all of the answers yet, we have clues that give us indications as to why self-harm has become more prevalent in today’s world.
In the past, I have written a few articles about athletic identity foreclosure, but if you are new or need a refresher, athletic identity foreclosure is the loss of a sense of self. It is when the athlete does not know who they are outside of their sport. We see this happen most often in three stages of life: retirement, burnout, or injury. If one of those three occurs and the athlete’s identity is engulfed in their sport and not more well-rounded, the risk of foreclosure heightens.
In this most recent case, Rondale Moore suffered severe injuries. Injuries can be a dangerous space for an athlete. For one, recovery from injury often requires extensive time away from the team. The entire community that was built is no longer there, and the reminder of your body being debilitated is ever-present.
This is something that I wrestle with in trying to find solutions in this area- how do we include those who might not be able to participate in the culture and mission of the team? When I was in college, one of my teammates suffered a career-ending injury. As a 20-something-year-old, you can guess how devastating that might feel to hear that you will never play competitively again. Interestingly enough, my coach made an effort to include that player in everything we did. In turn, he became like a coach to us and struggled in our down times and was with us in jubilation as well. Although he could not participate on the court with us, it felt like he never missed a beat.
Unfortunately, these stories of inclusion are all too rare. On the contrary, athletes are more often treated as soldiers to be disregarded when their duty can no longer be fulfilled. Cogs in a machine. What happens when players buy into the model that they are part of a machine and that their sole purpose for wearing the jersey is to win games? The simple answer: the purpose is gone.
We must, as a community, find ways to support athletes going through mental struggles. I think we are too reactive to these issues, especially knowing that it is a major problem.
I know this issue all too well. This newsletter will come out on the birthday of one of my college roommates. My teammate. We fought together. Went through battles. Had a lot of laughs and deep conversations. Genuinely one of the best men I have ever had the opportunity to be around. While we should be celebrating, I, nor his family or friends, won’t get that opportunity. The struggle after sports also affected him. It’s a large part of why I decided to be more vocal about this issue of athletic identity and life after sports. I want to see athletes use their skills learned in sports to flourish, not diminish.
His name was Jeff. And on his birthday, I want his memory to mean something beyond grief. I want it to mean action.
The truth is, we know enough. We know that isolation during injury is dangerous. We know that athletes who build their entire identity around their sport are at greater risk when that sport is taken away. We know that inclusion (real, intentional inclusion) can change the trajectory of someone’s life. My coach knew that. I watched it work. The knowledge is there. What is often missing is the willingness to act on it before a tragedy forces us to.
So here is my challenge to anyone reading this who is connected to an athlete- whether you are a coach, a teammate, a parent, a friend, or an administrator. Do not wait. Check in on the player who has been sidelined. Ask the retiring athlete how they are doing with the transition, and mean it when you ask. Help the young athlete in your life understand that their sport is something they do, not something they are. Invest in the whole person, not just the performer.
Rondale Moore was more than a wide receiver. My roommate was more than a basketball player. Every athlete in your life is more than their jersey number. They are image bearers. They are worth fighting for- not just on the field, but in the quiet, difficult moments when the sport is gone, and they are left wondering who they are without it.
We can do better. We have to.