By Trevor Pryce
Published: April 21, 2012
During my 14 years in the N.F.L., my favorite day was Monday. As long as I wasn’t preparing for surgery or being released, Mondays were special. They signified that I had made it through another week and was ready for another opponent. Even the soreness was oh, so sweet.
How I miss those days.
Now my Mondays go something like this: Work on my tennis serve; take a conference call with a Hollywood executive; get my three children to school; browse my favorite Web sites, none of them involving football; check my Words With Friends; and take the dog to day care.
By then, it’s only 10:30 a.m.
Welcome to the life of the secure and utterly bored former professional athlete.
The last thing I need is anybody feeling sorry for me. I’m retired at 36. I’m still in shape, I still run fast and I’m injury free.
So how did I arrive at this place, where the days run together, where sleep is so abundant that I can’t remember the last time I felt tired?
The Steelers. That’s how.
A few hours after the heartbreaking loss to Pittsburgh in the A.F.C. championship game that I played with the Jets in January 2011, I was standing by the bus and saying to myself: “This is it. I’m done!”
Then Coach Rex Ryan walked up to me and asked what I was thinking about the next season. I told him that I was emotionally and physically spent and that the last thing I wanted to do was deal with football again.
I’m a man of my word. Fourteen years on the defensive line was long enough. I lasted about 13 more than I thought I would, so I was content. Was I sad? A little. Was I elated and relieved? A lot.
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