Life after sports: Athletes need to have a plan

Like a lot of sports fans, I’ve been thinking about Miami Dolphins quarterback Tua Tagovailoa who suffered his third NFL concussion in a recent game against the Buffalo Bills. Understandably, the question now is whether the 26-year-old should continue donning a helmet.

Dec 27, 2021; New Orleans, Louisiana, USA; Miami Dolphins quarterback Tua Tagovailoa (1) calls for the ball from center Michael Deiter (63) against New Orleans Saints during the first half at Caesars Superdome. Mandatory Credit: Stephen Lew-USA TODAY Sports

In recent years, the medical community has shined a light on the devastating effects concussions can have on a person’s quality of life. The links between Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy (CTE), Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS), Alzheimer’s, and dementia are frightening clear. Note that in the case of CTE, the degenerative brain disease has been confirmed through autopsies in 345 out of 376 former NFL players.

Logic would dictate that Tua—who has guaranteed compensation to the tune of $167 million dollars, though exactly how much he would retain is not yet clear—should retire, especially considering that he has a wife and two young children. And yet, Tua says he wants to play again.

Dr. Myron Rolle, an American neurosurgeon and Rhodes Scholar who is currently doing a Pediatric Neurosurgery Fellowship at John’s Hopkins, shared the following on Instagram. “I would hate to see him fall down this pathway of wanting to play this sport, wanting to be tough for your teammates, wanting to be on the field, wanting to not disappoint people…I hope we can get to him…to speak life into him and protect him from himself. For him, it’s time to step away. It’s time to rest and recover and to put away any ideas of retuning to play.”

Note that Rolle understands Tua’s world more than you might expect. The former safety played football at Florida State, then spent three seasons in the NFL with the Tennessee Titans and the Pittsburg Steelers, before he retired and turned to medicine. I heard him speak in a CNN interview recently where he admitted that he also had a difficult time hanging up his cleats, even though he had another career waiting for him.

It was that last part that caught my attention. That Rolle had a plan for the years after football. Which made me wonder how many young athletes have the foresight to see beyond the game to a time when their skills and bodies decline and they are no longer competitive, but when they have many more years to live.

Dr. Myron Rolle, a former NFL player turned neurosurgeon, understands Tua Tagovailoa’s desire to stay in the game, but is hoping the quarterback will retire.

As a former high school teacher, I can’t count the number of times teenage boys insisted that their only goal was to play professional football, basketball, or baseball. I would then gently point out that those few who make it to the pros rarely play more than four years. “What do you want to do after that?” I’d say. Blank stares were all I got in return.

I looked into Rolle’s background to see what made him different. I smiled when I read that on top of participating in high school football, basketball, and track, he sang in a school theater production, played saxophone in the band, and was the sports editor for the student newspaper.

Why is this important? It shows that Rolle had interests outside of playing sports, something I always recommended to my students. Participating in extracurricular activities can help young people move toward careers they might enjoy, an especially important idea for young athletes, since the vast majority of them will never play a team sport after high school.

Now consider college athletes who often spend up to 40 hours a week practicing, working out, playing, and traveling. When that commitment ends—as it will for 98% of them—what happens next? Are schools encouraging them to branch out and consider life after sports?

I will now share two personal examples, both of which took place when I was teaching sports reporting at Arizona State’s Walter Cronkite School of Journalism. I’d expected to see some football players in my class, or at least some walking around the department, but I did not. My boss eventually told me that the coach forbade his players from taking any of our courses for fear they would fail a class and lose their eligibility. Similarly, one of my students explained that her lacrosse coach recommended she forgo my class for the same reason, but she wanted to be a sports reporter, so she took it anyway. I doubt ASU is any different from most universities that seem to value the athlete more than the student.

One wonders if the NFL, which teaches rookies about player agents, finances, education, drugs and steroids, alcohol and HIV prevention, might also prepare them for life after football. Somehow, I doubt it. But wouldn’t it be nice if they did?

So perhaps it’s left up to high school teachers—and lets not forget parents—to encourage young athletes to diversify their interests, so that when the end of their sports lives eventually comes, they will be prepared to meet a fulfilling future.

Your Forgotten Sons

Inspired by a true story

Anne Montgomery

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

Release Date: June 6, 2024

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A PBS Tribute to Sergeant Joseph “Bud” Richardville

Five years ago, my dear friend Regina Liparoto and I began a journey, one dedicated to telling the story of her uncle, Sergeant Joseph “Bud” Richardville, a man who served in the Graves Registration Service during World War II. Bud’s job—no doubt one of the least appreciated and most harrowing in the military—required that he locate, identify, and bury the dead.

I learned Bud’s story through a packet of 75-year-old letters and family oral history, stories Regina collected throughout her life. The result was Your Forgotten Sons, a novel inspired by Bud and those with whom he served in the GRS that was released this past June 6th in honor of the 80th anniversary of D-Day.

Recently, I traveled to Indiana where I met with Regina and members of the Richardville family, descendants who gathered to remember the soldier they never knew, but one they wanted to welcome back home.

And here is where I’d like to thank the people at Vincennes PBS for being there as we honored Bud.  You can find that story here.

Your Forgotten Sons

Inspired by a true story

Anne Montgomery

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

Release Date: June 6, 2024

Universal Buy Link

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Apple Books

Barnes & Nobel

Google Books

Kobo

Bookstores, libraries, and other booksellers can order copies directly from the Ingram Catalog.

Anne Montgomery’s novels can be found wherever books are sold.

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Me and Calamity Jane

There’s something I haven’t mentioned.

But first…when I was just a toddler, my mother began calling me Calamity Jane. Why, you ask? Because I was her child most likely to come home with dark bruises, or a splinter the size of a two-by-four, or a broken bone, or shards of glass in my feet.

This Marquis de Sade-esque, Chinese finger-puzzle device was not as fun as it looks.

I was constantly charging through streams and woods and climbing trees. I started ice skating at five. Skiing at eight. So perhaps many of my injuries were easily explained. Still the Calamity Jane moniker carried with it more than a hint of clumsiness on my part, which I noted each time my mother rolled her eyes after I’d had some sort of misadventure.

And now I’ve done it again. This coming after the last few years where I’ve met more surgeons and physical therapists and chiropractors and massage therapists than I care to mention. Note that while most of my surgical adventures have been to shore up long-ago sports injuries that have disintegrated with age, this was not one of those times.

Simply put, I tripped in a pothole while out on my morning walk. And to make matters worse, I cried! Something I didn’t do when I fractured my spine while officiating a football game or breaking my leg while umpiring baseball. Nor did I weep after two rotator cuff surgeries or cervical spinal fusion. Yet, there I sat, butt on the ground, clutching my arm, screaming like a five-year old with her hair on fire.

In my defense, the injury was pretty gruesome. My wrist was going in a decidedly wrong direction. When it became apparent that I was in shock and couldn’t walk, my sweetie pie placed me off the road and charged up the hill like Superman to get the car. Then Ryan returned and whisked me off to the hospital.

After the emergency room folks took a good look, it was announced that I had broken three bones, and—because I never do anything halfway—I’d dislocated it as well. “We call that a skateboarder’s injury,” a nurse commented later, which was a much better story than taking a header while walking, but one I doubted anyone would believe.

After a quick examination, a pleasant doctor asked to have a specific device retrieved, then turned to me and said, “I think this will be more humane.” My doped-up brain hung onto that last word, but it wouldn’t be until later that I understood.

Considering that Calamity Jane was a crack shot and a trick rider, I’m guessing she wasn’t the least bit clumsy.

After suspending my arm in a Marquis de Sade-esque, Chinese finger-puzzle device for 30 minutes, she squinted at my hanging appendage. “I’d hoped that might straighten it out,” she said. Then the doctor placed one hand around my black-and-blue wrist, gently traced one finger down the inside of my arm, and yanked.

I screamed.

Unperturbed, she put her palm on the dislocated spot and pushed.

I screamed again.

I screamed so loud, the entire, bustling ER came to a halt. A nurse stuck her head in and enquired if everything was alright.

The doctor nodded, then turned to me. “I’m sorry,” she said.

I faded a bit after that. But later I awoke to a kindly man with a big smile staring down at me. “We’re going to have to fix your arm.”

The next day that nice surgeon pinned my broken parts back together. I guess he straightened my wrist out too. I didn’t ask how, since I don’t really want to think about it. I haven’t yet seen the results, as I’m still in a cast.

And here’s where I want an “Atta girl!”, since I’m still a bit embarrassed by all that crying and screaming. Three-and-a-half days after surgery, I boarded a plane—one of five on my schedule—so I could get to a book tour in Indiana. I got through five live events and several TV interviews, but only because Ryan did everything for me. I needed a wheelchair to traverse the airports. I couldn’t dress myself and was barely able to even brush my teeth. I can still see him lugging all our stuff around like a pack mule.

 So, yeah! I’m a trooper! And I want a T-shirt that says so.

And, of course, Ryan deserves one too.

As for Calamity Jane, the woman was a renowned trick rider and a crack shot, evidence that she was clearly no klutz. So, from here on out, I will proudly wear her name.

Your Forgotten Sons

Inspired by a true story

Anne Montgomery

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

Release Date: June 6, 2024

Universal Buy Link

Amazon

Apple Books

Barnes & Nobel

Google Books

Kobo

Bookstores, libraries, and other booksellers can order copies directly from the Ingram Catalog.

Anne Montgomery’s novels can be found wherever books are sold.

Goodreads

Amazon

.

A little smile can go a long way

I while back, I was ensconced in a neck brace, the result of a surgery that had me unable to drive. So, my sweetie pie dropped me off at the health club for a nice soak in the whirlpool, a dip in the cold plunge, and a steam. I was feeling pretty good, as I made my way to a round metal table topped with an umbrella, where I sat and waited for Ryan to retrieve me.

As the health club is in the middle of a swanky mall, people were coming and going on what was a lovely, blue-sky-puffy-white-clouds kind of day. However, despite the ambiance, no one appeared the least bit happy. I watched people from behind my sunglasses. Maybe 30 folks walked by, not one of whom even attempted to make eye contact.

Note that in my neck brace I probably appeared slightly feeble, and at my age I could have been a grandmother to any one of them, so I couldn’t have appeared the least bit threatening. And still, there was a reluctance to communicate.

A young man strutted past talking importantly to himself.

A women pushed a baby carriage trailed by two small children. One little boy stared at me, perhaps intrigued by my neck brace. I smiled, but his mother moved on.

A couple marched by, heads down, grimly absorbed in their phones.

A dozen more people went by without looking at me or anyone else, at which point I started to worry about humanity.

Then, a thirtyish woman stared at me briefly and almost smiled. But she seemed embarrassed by the gesture, pressed her lips into a tight line, and turned away.

In the Psychology Today article, “Smiling at Strangers” Dr. Alex Lickerman explains that often strangers don’t smile at one another because they are so busy thinking about other aspects of their lives, that they are everywhere expect where they actually are.

But smiling, even at strangers, is good for us. It can trigger positive feelings that release hormones that help decrease stress levels. And, as Lickerman says, smiling at a stranger can be a kindness.

“To smile at a stranger in a meaningful way, then, requires we muster some kind of real feeling for them—that we care about someone we don’t know, if only in a small way. Thus, for me, smiling at strangers is a small exercise in compassion.” 

I will admit here that I didn’t always smile at strangers. But when I became a teacher, a peer sat me down and explained that it would be benificial if I could perhaps be a bit nicer. Eventually I started saying hello to anyone who walked by when I was on campus.

Today, I continue the practice when Ryan and I are out on our morning walk with the dogs. We say “Good morning!” to everyone we pass, and often the change in that stranger’s demeanor is shocking, a bright smile replacing what had been a dour countenance.

As I waited for my ride, I had pretty much given hope, but then a young man gave me a nod and a small smile. At which point, a fortyish women in black stopped, graced me with a beautiful smile, and called out, “Feel better!”

And I did!

Your Forgotten Sons

Inspired by a true story

Anne Montgomery

Bud Richardville is inducted into the Army as the United States prepares for the invasion of Europe in 1943. A chance comment has Bud assigned to a Graves Registration Company, where his unit is tasked with locating, identifying, and burying the dead. Bud ships out, leaving behind his new wife, Lorraine, a mysterious woman who has stolen his heart but whose secretive nature and shadowy past leave many unanswered questions. When Bud and his men hit the beach at Normandy, they are immediately thrust into the horrors of what working in a graves unit entails. Bud is beaten down by the gruesome demands of his job and losses in his personal life, but then he meets Eva, an optimistic soul who despite the war can see a positive future. Will Eva’s love be enough to save him?

Release Date: June 6, 2024

Universal Buy Link

Amazon

Apple Books

Barnes & Nobel

Google Books

Kobo

Bookstores, libraries, and other booksellers can order copies directly from the Ingram Catalog.

Anne Montgomery’s novels can be found wherever books are sold.

Goodreads

Amazon