By DAVE BOLING
August 29, 2006
The frequency of failure startled Ken Ruettgers.
Some former colleagues struggled desperately with finances or their marriages, some dealt with addictions and depression. One troubled friend escaped from a psychiatric hospital and was gunned down in a police standoff.
Like Ruettgers, they were NFL alumni.
Ruettgers saw that this is what can happen when players spend most of their lives preparing for games on Sundays, and almost none of it for what happens when the games are over.
Finding very little in the way of structured assistance for athletes, Ruettgers started GamesOver.org, a nonprofit organization based in Sisters, Ore. It offers counseling and support to post-competition athletes.
NFL roster cuts often bring a rude introduction to a vastly different world. Ruettgers will be busy.
The statistics he offers are stunning.
"Seventy-eight percent of NFL players are bankrupt, divorced or unemployed in two years (after retirement)," Ruettgers said.
He said he recently conducted a small conference with former athletes of various professional sports in which the players reported problems with "infidelity, addiction, gambling, bankruptcy, drinking, unemployment and domestic abuse," he said. "And that was in a conference with just 12 guys."
Getting players to even address the issues is a major challenge, Ruettgers said, because it runs counter to the programming they've faced for decades.
"They've been trained their whole lives to never show a weakness," he said. "They've been trained not to get help when they need it."
Ruettgers was a first-round draft pick out of Southern California, and played 12 years on the offensive line for the Green Bay Packers. He had a bachelor's degree and an MBA, and a position waiting at a publishing firm when he retired.
Yet the transition was still difficult for him.
"It's such a big change, and if you don't start making changes yourself when your career ends, you're going to fail your marriage, your finances, that sort of thing," he said.
Of the players who get divorced after their careers, 50 percent do so in the first year, Ruettgers said.
"Such a dramatic change also changes your relationship; it's an identity change even for the wife," he said. "It can be as hard for them as it is for the player. It's an identity issue, and a lot of it is a matter of expectations not being met.
"In some cases, football has been an excuse for guys not growing up and the wife says, 'OK, football is over, now you're going to grow up.' But he doesn't, and the wife says, 'I'm not going to put up with this little-boy stuff anymore.'"
With larger contracts accompanying the advent of free agency, bankruptcy is not as prevalent as it once was, but players still are vulnerable to the misperception that all are set up for life.
"The perception is that everybody is a Brett Favre or a Trent Dilfer or a Matt Hasselbeck," Ruettgers said. "They think they're going to play 12 to 15 years and have millions in the bank. The reality is that only 50 percent of NFL players play more than three years. Those guys are averaging about $450,000 a year. That is a lot of money, but with Uncle Sam and an agent, you're losing half of it right off the top."
The physical toll of a career in the NFL is obvious, as anyone can witness at an alumni event or gathering of "old-timers." Ruettgers sees the damage extending well beyond the collection of bad knees and mangled fingers.
"You go to a retired players event or NFL alumni golf tournaments, and a lot of the guys in their 50s and 60s are still angry about the way they left the game," he said. "Some of them are bitter, angry old men. They are still upset over things that they think didn't go their way. That's a problem with not taking responsibility for yourself and your future."
And with it sometimes comes depression.
"Sports psychologists have said it's a type of social death when a player leaves professional athletics; there's a lot of denial, and then anger and depression," he said.
Ruettgers doesn't expect fans to feel sorry for players who had big-money and high-profile careers. Likewise, he has to work to not allow former athletes to feel as if they're victims. As he points out, this is not the case of single mothers holding down multiple jobs to feed their children.
"They may want to feel like they're victims of having been cut, or of not getting a fair shot," he said. "We try to help them see what it means to be a man of responsibility. Most of these guys grow up in the sports culture from as early as elementary school, where they aren't forced to be responsible.
"There's always somebody there to pick up their towel, to pick up their jock, and to tell them to sign on the dotted line."
After 20 or 30 years of such pampered treatment, to be suddenly cut loose can be wickedly disorienting.
"People will say, 'Quit your crying, you were a pro athlete and you have the whole world going for you,'" Ruettgers said. "But it sure doesn't feel like that. It comes back to self-worth and value and identity. We're trying to get them to understand this and to navigate the transition so they can move on in life and do even greater things than they did as athletes."
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)
August 29, 2006
The frequency of failure startled Ken Ruettgers.
Some former colleagues struggled desperately with finances or their marriages, some dealt with addictions and depression. One troubled friend escaped from a psychiatric hospital and was gunned down in a police standoff.
Like Ruettgers, they were NFL alumni.
Ruettgers saw that this is what can happen when players spend most of their lives preparing for games on Sundays, and almost none of it for what happens when the games are over.
Finding very little in the way of structured assistance for athletes, Ruettgers started GamesOver.org, a nonprofit organization based in Sisters, Ore. It offers counseling and support to post-competition athletes.
NFL roster cuts often bring a rude introduction to a vastly different world. Ruettgers will be busy.
The statistics he offers are stunning.
"Seventy-eight percent of NFL players are bankrupt, divorced or unemployed in two years (after retirement)," Ruettgers said.
He said he recently conducted a small conference with former athletes of various professional sports in which the players reported problems with "infidelity, addiction, gambling, bankruptcy, drinking, unemployment and domestic abuse," he said. "And that was in a conference with just 12 guys."
Getting players to even address the issues is a major challenge, Ruettgers said, because it runs counter to the programming they've faced for decades.
"They've been trained their whole lives to never show a weakness," he said. "They've been trained not to get help when they need it."
Ruettgers was a first-round draft pick out of Southern California, and played 12 years on the offensive line for the Green Bay Packers. He had a bachelor's degree and an MBA, and a position waiting at a publishing firm when he retired.
Yet the transition was still difficult for him.
"It's such a big change, and if you don't start making changes yourself when your career ends, you're going to fail your marriage, your finances, that sort of thing," he said.
Of the players who get divorced after their careers, 50 percent do so in the first year, Ruettgers said.
"Such a dramatic change also changes your relationship; it's an identity change even for the wife," he said. "It can be as hard for them as it is for the player. It's an identity issue, and a lot of it is a matter of expectations not being met.
"In some cases, football has been an excuse for guys not growing up and the wife says, 'OK, football is over, now you're going to grow up.' But he doesn't, and the wife says, 'I'm not going to put up with this little-boy stuff anymore.'"
With larger contracts accompanying the advent of free agency, bankruptcy is not as prevalent as it once was, but players still are vulnerable to the misperception that all are set up for life.
"The perception is that everybody is a Brett Favre or a Trent Dilfer or a Matt Hasselbeck," Ruettgers said. "They think they're going to play 12 to 15 years and have millions in the bank. The reality is that only 50 percent of NFL players play more than three years. Those guys are averaging about $450,000 a year. That is a lot of money, but with Uncle Sam and an agent, you're losing half of it right off the top."
The physical toll of a career in the NFL is obvious, as anyone can witness at an alumni event or gathering of "old-timers." Ruettgers sees the damage extending well beyond the collection of bad knees and mangled fingers.
"You go to a retired players event or NFL alumni golf tournaments, and a lot of the guys in their 50s and 60s are still angry about the way they left the game," he said. "Some of them are bitter, angry old men. They are still upset over things that they think didn't go their way. That's a problem with not taking responsibility for yourself and your future."
And with it sometimes comes depression.
"Sports psychologists have said it's a type of social death when a player leaves professional athletics; there's a lot of denial, and then anger and depression," he said.
Ruettgers doesn't expect fans to feel sorry for players who had big-money and high-profile careers. Likewise, he has to work to not allow former athletes to feel as if they're victims. As he points out, this is not the case of single mothers holding down multiple jobs to feed their children.
"They may want to feel like they're victims of having been cut, or of not getting a fair shot," he said. "We try to help them see what it means to be a man of responsibility. Most of these guys grow up in the sports culture from as early as elementary school, where they aren't forced to be responsible.
"There's always somebody there to pick up their towel, to pick up their jock, and to tell them to sign on the dotted line."
After 20 or 30 years of such pampered treatment, to be suddenly cut loose can be wickedly disorienting.
"People will say, 'Quit your crying, you were a pro athlete and you have the whole world going for you,'" Ruettgers said. "But it sure doesn't feel like that. It comes back to self-worth and value and identity. We're trying to get them to understand this and to navigate the transition so they can move on in life and do even greater things than they did as athletes."
(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)
