When I first saw my college teammate Bishop update his LinkedIn profile showing he’d taken a job in finance, it didn’t really surprise me. In fact, it felt like a quiet confirmation of something many of us who’ve played football at competitive levels already sense but rarely discuss openly—that for all its glory and life lessons, football carries hidden costs that shape lives long after the cleats come off. I’ve been on the field since I was ten, played four years in college, and coached high school athletes for half a decade. Over those years, I’ve come to realize that the culture of toughness and resilience football instills often masks serious downsides that deserve more attention.
Let’s start with the physical toll, because that’s the most visible part. We all know football is a contact sport, but the sheer volume of hits adds up in ways that aren’t always obvious. During a typical NCAA season, a player might experience around 800 to 1,000 sub-concussive hits. That’s not even counting the more violent collisions. I remember weeks where I’d wake up with a dull headache that lingered until Friday—just in time for another game. And it’s not just concussions we’re talking about. Joint wear and tear, especially in knees and shoulders, is practically a given. One study I came across estimated that nearly 70% of former college players develop some form of arthritis by their mid-30s. I’m in my late twenties now, and I already feel it when it rains. My old teammate James—a linebacker who was practically indestructible in college—had his first knee replacement at 32. That’s younger than most of our parents.
But what’s less talked about, and honestly what pushed Bishop toward finance in my opinion, is the mental and emotional transition out of the sport. Football becomes your identity. You eat, sleep, and breathe the game. When that structure vanishes, it leaves a void that’s hard to fill. Bishop was a solid wide receiver—not NFL material, but dedicated and sharp. Yet once graduation hit, there’s no more playbook, no more roaring crowds, no more locker room camaraderie. Research from the NCAA suggests that nearly 30% of former college athletes experience moderate to severe depression in their first year after eligibility ends. I’ve seen it firsthand—guys who were leaders on the field suddenly feeling lost in the 9-to-5 world. The discipline football teaches is invaluable, but it doesn’t always prepare you for a life where success isn’t measured in yards or touchdowns.
Then there’s the academic trade-off. Look, I loved my time on the field, but balancing 20-plus hours of weekly training with a full course load was no joke. Some guys, like Bishop, manage to pivot those skills—the teamwork, the pressure handling—into corporate careers. But many don’t. I knew players who chose easier majors just to stay eligible, only to graduate with degrees that didn’t excite employers. The NCAA reports that while graduation rates for football players have improved, they still lag behind the general student population by about 10-15 percentage points at many schools. That gap matters. It means even with a degree, some guys are starting their post-sport lives a step behind.
And let’s not forget the long-term health risks. CTE has dominated headlines, but the cardiac issues are just as concerning. A 2018 study found that former NFL players aged 50 and above were nearly six times more likely to have atrial fibrillation compared to the general public. Even at the college level, the intense physical strain can set the stage for problems later. My own blood pressure crept up during my senior year—something my doctor linked directly to years of high-impact training and weight fluctuations. We’re talking about a sport that asks you to bulk up, then cut weight, then do it all over again. It takes a toll.
Now, I’m not saying football is all bad. Far from it. The friendships I made are lifelong. The discipline I learned translates into everything I do now, from running my business to raising my kids. But we need to be honest about the trade-offs. When I see Bishop in a suit on LinkedIn, I’m proud of him. But I also wonder if he, like me, still feels the echoes of those Saturday hits on rainy mornings. Or if he misses the roar of the crowd in a way that no boardroom applause can replace. Football gives you incredible tools—resilience, teamwork, grit—but it also takes something. Maybe that’s why so many of us end up in high-stakes fields like finance or entrepreneurship. We’re used to pressure; we just channel it differently once the pads are off.
In the end, football is a lot like life—full of sacrifices that aren’t always visible from the stands. If you’re considering the sport, or if you’re a parent weighing the pros and cons, my advice is to go in with eyes wide open. Enjoy the wins, learn from the losses, but always have a game plan for life after the final whistle. Because as Bishop’s career shift shows, the transition is part of the journey too—and it’s one we should prepare for as seriously as any fourth-quarter drive.