Tom Brady Should Definitely Maybe Not Retire
On the difficulty of determining when an athlete has stuck around for too long
You are reading The Mandate — Hot takes on topics that men don’t like to talk about. Written by LA-Based Writer, Cultural Strategist, and Olympic Medalist Jason Rogers.
My favorite article about Tom Brady — the famed quarterback and winner of seven Super Bowl rings — was published in the New Yorker humor column “Shouts and Murmurs” earlier this year. It’s a fictitious, first-person diary detailing his first week with his family after retiring from football. His tone is emotionally detached, as if he were from another planet and later teleported into a new role as a dad on earth.
The children woke me early. It’s unclear how they got the access code to my sleeping chamber. Initially, they were confused by the total darkness, the pumped-in oxygen, and the low recorded sound of Tibetan monks chanting, “Wonderful Tom.”
Of course, I am writing this in the wake of the ancient news that Brady returned to the NFL after only 40 days of retirement and the more recent announcement that he and his supermodel wife, Gisele Bündchen, have decided to split. The most publically cited reason for their divorce is that Brady's refusal quit football stood in direct contrast with Giselle’s wishes that he spend more time at home.
We will have to wait for the best-selling tell-all book to learn the “truth” about that particular situation. But let’s put that aside for a minute and focus on trying to understand Brady’s decision to return to the league. He’s clearly suffered some personal consequences as a result. Why would he do that when he’s already achieved so much?
Any longtime athlete will have challenging feelings when nearing the end of a career. But what complicates Brady’s situation is not just that he’s considered the best football player in history. He’s also, according to some, among the greatest athletes of all time. That status is now effectively his brand. Like many ultra-marketable celebrities, he’s made a fortune becoming a hologram of a human. His manicured hair, toothpaste smile, and “GOAT” status are ubiquitous in national ad campaigns. Further, he built TB12 — his strength training and mobility methodology — on the idea that he is 45 and still on the field.
Retiring wouldn’t stop those commercial endeavors, but it would slow them down. However, for someone so wealthy, these are merely superficial reasons. The real scary question for Brady is what comes next. One reason why the New Yorker piece is so good is that it lampoons Brady as an unemotional robot who has mechanically programmed himself to do nothing but win. Some version of this mindset is standard in successful athletes, and it isn’t easy to undo.
I remember feeling that way during my fencing career. I taught myself how to subvert my natural instincts and sacrifice my daily desires for a place at the top. So, when I realized that I wanted to stop competing, I was terrified. I’d spent so many years receiving praise for being an athlete that I was afraid that I would never receive the same level of respect doing anything else. In the years since I’ve had to recalibrate my whole system of being. I still struggle not to put all of my self-worth in what I’ve done and instead try to value who I am. But we live in a world where achievement is easily measured and compared. Peace of mind and quality of intention are not.
Expecting Tom Brady to retire from football without having a total identity crisis is like asking a dog to turn suddenly into a fish.
On an existential level, Brady’s issue is ten times what mine was. His athletic legacy is unassailable, and he could spend the rest of his time on this planet receiving lifetime achievement awards and telling stories from the good old days. But that’s not the same thing as the spotlight. This is why expecting Brady to retire from football without having a total identity crisis is like asking a dog to turn suddenly into a fish.
But his resistance to hanging up his spurs it’s not all based on fear, of course. To succeed at Brady’s level, you have to have a kind of unshakable self-confidence that borders on delusion. There is no doubt that he thinks he can repeat the performances of years past. And that may be so. But he’s edging into the territory where his body may no longer agree. We see that often with GOATs in many sports. Michael Jordan made two unremarkable returns to the NBA. Some would argue that Roger Federer held on too long chasing tennis records. Kelly Slater, who is unequivocally the best surfer of all time, is still competing at age 50.
Slater, however, is an interesting example because I was one of the people who thought he had hung around the pro-tour for too long. Then, late last year, he won the most prestigious event in competitive surfing just before his 50th birthday. Many people cited it as a triumph of human potential and a testament to the resilience of our bodies and the power of our minds. The surfer called it the “best win of his life.” But the question is, why was it the “best?” Was it because he proved to himself that he could still do it? Or that he got to experience the thrill of victory that had eluded him for so long? Or was it because he achieved just one more thing that made his competitive record near impossible to beat?
I think Brady might be in a similar physical and psychological place. Although his second act with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers has thus far been unremarkable, he can still perform at a high level. He also continues to notch records. Just over a week ago, he became the first quarterback to surpass 100K passing yards. But I wonder how much of his choice to return to the NFL was the need to further enshrine himself in history. Brady recently changed his Twitter profile photo to a statue of himself. It’s moments like these when he looks like a greedy king in a castle desperate to build the biggest possible moat.
.
This resonates (as a 40-year-old athlete who continues to ask himself every year whether to cleat up again..). I'm reminded of that scene from Ted lasso where Roy Kent equates his identity with being a footballer, and frames the transition to retirement as about locating a new identity.
Another important point here is that CTE looms large over many of these players. I recently wrote a Men's Health piece about a group of NFL players, one of whom is in his 60s and dealing with early-onset dementia as a result. Quarterbacks are somewhat insulated from the every-play micro-traumas that scientists think contribute significantly to CTE. However, this I imagine was a real consideration in his decision to return (or Giselle's frustration with his choice). Frustratingly, an industry-influenced group of doctors, trainers and sports leagues recently met to discuss this topic and did not acknowledge the explicit link between impact sports and CTE (citing the need to for research that takes other health issues into account). However, the whole thing reads like another industry-influenced board trying to obstruct the science so that the League can continue to operate with impunity.
Men's Health Piece: https://www.menshealth.com/health/a38749701/nfl-mental-health/
NYT Piece about the CTE Board Meeting: https://www.nytimes.com/2022/11/08/sports/football/cte-brain-trauma-concussions.html