When the coronavirus outbreak completely shut down the world of sports this year, thousands of NCAA athletes saw their seasons come to an abrupt end — or never start at all.
Now, the NCAA Division I council has officially granted another year of eligibility to spring sport athletes, and rightly so, but the reality of the situation is that athletes will never get this year of competition back, and some won’t be in a position to use that extra year of eligibility next spring.
Cities across the nation are scrambling to contain the spread of the virus. Families mourn, and health care workers are putting their lives on the front lines. Sports, which now seem so trivial against that backdrop, were supposed to offer some from of respite from the nonstop news, making the end of spring sports devastating for thousands of fans.
Still, as difficult as it is for fans to grapple with reality without the distraction of March Madness, it’s that much more life-shattering for the athletes who wont get to realize their lifelong goals, to no fault of their own.
I know, because it could have been me.
About a year ago, I was wrapping up my own college career as a shot-putter for the Brigham Young University track and field team. As I walked away from my final competition at the NCAA regional championships, it started to sink in: My athletic career was over.
Not many people talk about what comes next for former college athletes. We train for hours on end during school, and our studies often suffer from the amount of time spent working out and the mental strain that comes with the added load. It’s worth it to us because we have our minds set on a very specific goal.
Then it comes to an end.
Suddenly, everything that we’ve worked for is gone, and there can be only one national champion. Everyone else is left with an empty feeling that leaves a void, and many, myself included, struggle as they grasp for a new identity and battle with depression.
Those feelings are so well documented they have their own quandary: the Goldman dilemma, which exhibits the disproportionate amount of value athletes place on success in their respective sports.
Throughout the 1980s, sports physician Robert Goldman asked Olympic-level athletes if they would be willing to take a pill that guaranteed an Olympic gold medal but which would kill them five years later. Shockingly, nearly half of questioned athletes said they would be willing to take the pill.
Although recent studies show today’s athletes agree to that scenario at a much lower rate, the fact that any would be willing to trade their life for a moment of glory says something about the skewed sense of importance that athletes place on performance.
I count myself lucky. I was able to mentally prepare for the end of my college career. I knew the end was coming and made sure to savor every last experience of my final season. I knew when my career would be done.
That fact, although still extremely difficult to accept, also came with a decent measure of closure. When the depression started to set in, I had the memories and experiences of my final season to lean on. I also had no regrets, and I knew that I had given my all.
An additional year of eligibility sounds nice, but for many it simply is not an option. I have several friends who are still on BYU sports teams but are unsure if they can put their lives on hold for another year. Many are married and have made plans for their families. Many are trying to get their careers started — an even more difficult task in this economic climate — and others will be attending graduate school.
For these athletes, their lives have been dedicated to something that has suddenly been taken away from them and which is unlikely to be returned.
I have no doubt that we, as a nation, will come together to defeat COVID-19. Researchers will develop a vaccine to assist in defeating the virus. The economy will recover. Still, much has already been lost.
For some NCAA athletes, that loss has been their life’s work.
What are they to do? As one who already has experienced the end, I suggest finding a new driving force as soon as they can. Set new goals, whether that be getting accepted to a graduate program, learning to play a new instrument or reading a certain number of books in a year. Athletes can be obsessive in nature, so they should find something new and healthy to obsess over.
If you come in contact with one of these former athletes, seek to understand what they are going through and consider introducing them to some of your favorite hobbies. These students now have a big void in their lives to fill, and your friendship can be there to fill it.
Jefferson Jarvis is a former Brigham Young University athlete and a Deseret News intern.