My son came out of high school coming off an injury. He knew going in there were two opportunities; 1) Get his degree in three years and sign or 2) Stay five to play four and get a BA and MBA. The latter eventually became the plan.
He played the end of his redshirt junior year with a broken bone in his foot. He had surgery after the season. His foot didn’t heal properly. I was there with him sitting in the doctor’s office again at the beginning of February discussing could he play or need surgery.
The doctor told him he could play and have surgery later. He also told him he could be risking walking and running properly the rest of his life. My son told the doctor he had to give the situation some thought.
I must have had fire shooting out of my eyes leaving the office. I was ready to give him, “Are you out of your effing mind? You have the rest of your life to live!”
Once out of the office my son muttered, “I’m done.” He didn’t want to say it in the office in case he started crying. I hugged him and told him he had a great run from ten (when travel started) to twenty-two. That I enjoyed it every step of the way.
He could have applied for a medical red shirt. He didn’t see the need. He had two degrees by the end of the year. He had done an internship at Deloitte. They told him to call for an interview after graduation. He worked there five years.
Red shirt senior year my son rarely went to practice. He sat in the dugout keeping score at home games. He said being a normal student wasn’t so bad.
There was one regret for both of us. He wished he knew when he was playing his last game so he could have taken in the moment. I told him the same about watching him play.