Andrew Luck started 86 games for the Indianapolis Colts, throwing 171 touchdowns and just 83 interceptions. He was sacked 174 times, and that doesn't include the hits taken after a throw or in passing.
Overall, Luck attempted 3,290 passes, dropping back and letting a pass rip across the field. He suffered countless injuries, including concussions, a lacerated kidney, torn cartilage in his throwing shoulder. He's also played with a team that even an outsider wouldn't call strong-but he carried them to the playoffs four times in six seasons.
I haven't done any of that. The only snaps I took in my life came from my brother in our backyard or at a nearby park in South City. I haven't taken a vicious hit or played through enormous pain, blood curdling in a place where it shouldn't gather. I don't know what Luck went through, what his days were like during rehab, or how he goes about it. All I can do is sit back and watch a highlight reel of hits that he suffered. And let me tell you ... sweet dreams are not made of these moments. So who am I to disappear into judgement?
Here's the thing. Luck has every right to call it quits. He did so on his own terms this past weekend, leaving a lot of money on the table and a future that seemed certain just a week ago. Luck started all 16 games last season, leading the Colts to a 10-6 record and into the playoffs. He completed passes at a career best rate of 67%, averaging seven yard per completion.
Somewhere along the line, though, he decided enough was enough. After the NFL, college, high school, middle school, and all the little kid leagues that came before it, snaps galore, Luck decided he was done taking hits and dreaming about Lombardi. For some reason, that is hard for certain people to understand. Apparently, all the facts about CTE and its long-term effects can't find their way into the brains of every radio host with a hot take button. That's alright. Some things take time.
Luck didn't come to this decision easily. I can assure you of that. He wrestled with it, losing sleep and probably isolating himself during the process of calling it a career. Here he was, hanging around his teammates for over three weeks, gearing up for another go-round, and suddenly he decided against it. Good for him.
Good for you, Andrew Luck. You decided when it was time, not the game. Instead of being carried out a few more times, your head here or there, it was you who walked off the field. That takes guts, determination, and extreme fortitude. Instead of shooting down Luck for burning up fantasy league numbers and Colt faithful dreams of a Super Bowl, we should celebrate the man for making the hard choice.
The easy choice would have been to just keep lining up behind center, kneeling down to check the defense making adjustments, confirming his receivers placement, and taking the snap. The easy choice would have been to count that money every February ... that is if he could still count by the end of the contract. That was the easy route.
Luck is only 29, so he's getting out earlier than expected, but still not soon enough. The NFL is a dangerous game and for those who play it, there's a secret about its impact that outsiders just won't understand. You can't understand the pain.
Here's a story before I go. I went out for high school football as a freshman. I knew playing time would be sparse, but in order to seem cool and get a good workout and rush, there I was for practice. One day, I took a vicious hit from behind. I swear, you could have told me the guy came all the way from the street to hit me, and I would have believed you. I was messed up, badly. Walking, breathing, and thinking were all complex practices.
I sat out the rest of practice, thinking about the potential pain I would take for a small amount of playing time. I didn't have a definite skill. My throws were duck-like. I could catch, but it wasn't a sure thing. I could tackle, but only as good as the next guy. So I didn't play another snap of football. I hung up the jersey and pads, choosing myself over a game. Instead of sacrificing my body for no reason, I chose other sports. I chose elsewhere.
Now, I am nowhere near as talented as Andrew Luck, but you get the point. He decided it was best to leave the game now. Perhaps he takes a year and comes back ready. Maybe he stays away all together. Sometimes, you just know. Luck knew, or else he'd be out there.
Cheers to that. The NFL doesn't care about Andrew Luck, so why should he give up his heart, mind, body, and soul to it?
I applaud every player who walks off the field instead of being lifted off. They know something many don't. They can hear the bell.
Before you criticize Luck for his actions, think about walking in his shoes first. It may just get your mind straight.
