going pro

The course of our life is shaped by the choices we make. It’s easy to wonder how differently our lives might have unfolded had we made different choices at pivotal moments. Some choices, I believe, are directed by God—a destined path we are guided along. Other times, our place in life feels set from the beginning, sealed by fate.

Dreams

My dream as a kid was to play college football, a dream I realized at St. Thomas, where I played outside linebacker from 2013-2016. I started three out of those four seasons, and it wasn’t just a blast—it was an honor. Freshman year, though, was tough. I began to resent the school and the football program. Meanwhile, my high school buddies and cousins enrolled at big state schools, flooding me with Snapchats and posting stories from tailgates, parties, and packed stadiums—all while I was on the corner of Cretin and Summit, grinding through class, practice, workouts, and games, plotting a way out.

When J-Term rolled around my freshman year, I started filling out transfer applications to the schools I had considered before committing to play football at St. Thomas. I had a few reasons to leave, but the biggest was that college football felt more like a job than a sport. I wanted to experience student life without the rigidity of an athletic schedule. J-Term gave me time to slow down and reflect on what I wanted. I knew I was talented enough to start the following season. Things will get better once I’m a starter, I thought. I had also made lifelong friends that fall, and it wouldn’t be easy to leave them. I decided to stay at St. Thomas, a choice that changed the trajectory of my life.

Each season, each school year, things got better. I ended my football career at St. Thomas as a two-time All-American, two-time All-Region, two-time All-Conference, team MVP, and national runner-up. Some may scoff when I highlight these accomplishments, but I don’t share them to boast. I share them because they weren’t supposed to happen. When I moved to Minnesota, a doctor once told me there was a good chance I wouldn’t be able to compete in sports. I started competing in sports in fifth grade and never missed a game. When I was being recruited to play college football, my high school coaches didn’t recommend me to St. Thomas. Even without the endorsement of my own coaches, St. Thomas still took a chance on me. My college football career was inevitable, and it surpassed expectations.

St. Thomas @ UW-Eau Claire, September 3, 2016.

What If

I can’t help but think about the “what if” every time the NFL Draft comes around. A way was made for me to enjoy great athletic success in college—why not try to compete professionally? After my senior season at St. Thomas, a few teammates and coaches started gently asking if I was considering training for a pro day. A pro day is like a job interview for college football players—except instead of wearing a suit and tie, players sprint, shuffle, and jump through a series of drills in front of NFL scouts. It’s a high-stakes audition where every movement is timed and every rep is observed. A good pro day can get a player noticed and open the door to the NFL; a bad one will have players updating their LinkedIn profiles faster than their 40 time.

Job security in the League is rare. The NFL, like most professional sports leagues, is a business. Teams exist to make a profit, and if coaches and scouts don’t believe a player can add value, they won’t sign him. If he’s already on the roster, they’ll cut him—essentially firing him. I understood the harsh realities of the NFL, but the prospect still intrigued me. Even a spot on an NFL practice squad could earn a player up to a quarter million dollars annually—not bad for a college graduate.

As the playoffs began in my senior season, I was invited to compete in an all-star bowl game in Florida. I had no interest—my sole focus was leading the team back to the national championship. But sometimes, I can’t help but wonder: what if? What if I’d formed new friendships at the bowl game? What if I’d met a coach or mentor who could’ve connected me to the right contacts? What if I’d impressed the right scout at the right time?

Let Go

Sometime after our season ended, I scheduled a meeting with our head coach, Coach Caruso. I convinced myself that if he encouraged me to pursue the League, I’d reach out to our former strength and conditioning coach to set up a personalized nutrition and training program for a pro day with the Gophers. After class, I headed to the Athletics Complex, took the elevator up to the Athletics Department, checked in at the front desk, and was invited to Coach Caruso’s office a minute later. I sat in one of the black chairs across from his desk, scanning the photos and memorabilia that filled his office—something I’d always done since I was a naïve freshman. We exchanged pleasantries, but Coach Caruso and I, both East Coast natives with busy schedules, didn’t waste time getting down to business.

“Jess, how can I help?” Coach Caruso asked, sitting up in his chair and taking a sip of his afternoon coffee. I told him how the guys had been asking about my NFL prospects.

“I know a few former players were invited to NFL training camps and wore the helmet, but ultimately it didn’t work out. Do you think I should try?” I asked, eyes slightly squinted, waiting for his thoughts. Coach Caruso pursed his lips and tapped his chin.

“You know, Jess, I want you to be happy. I’ll use every resource at my disposal to help you get to the next level, if that’s what you want. Just know it’s a long road.”

I stared at him for a moment, as if waiting for more insight, but that’s all he had to say. Coach Caruso’s response was honest, and honesty was what I needed to hear. I left his office with my decision made. I chose to enjoy the rest of my senior year and began studying for the LSAT before joining Deloitte in the fall. I was at peace with letting go.

Move Forward

For some of the kids drafted this past weekend, football is their only shot. Many come from low-income households, where an NFL contract offers an escape from financial struggles. For others, the pressure to go pro comes from family expectations or from the fact that their identity is so tied to being a football player, they feel they have no choice but to go pro.

As long as I’ve played football, every coach I’ve had has echoed the same sentiment: one day, football will end. Whether that end comes by choice, injury, health issues, or some other circumstance beyond our control, retiring from the sport is a luxury. The average NFL career lasts about three years, meaning most NFL players will spend the majority of their lives doing something other than playing professional football. I was fortunate not only to play eleven healthy seasons of football, but also to have skills and abilities I could carry into different areas of my life.

Looking back, I realize the path I’ve walked—both on and off the field—was shaped by a combination of choice and destiny. I’ve learned that sometimes we don’t choose what’s best for us, yet success finds us anyway, and accepting the end of things we love is part of life. My time as a football player may have ended, but I’m grateful I had the power to close that chapter on my own terms. I’ve always been more than a football player, and as my story continues to unfold, I trust that each choice, each moment, has led me to where I’m meant to be.