KNOWING WHEN TO RETIRE

?With my Dad. He has always been my calming reminder of truth.

By Angus Reid

I spent most of the month of January 2014 walking, alone.

The reason was two-fold.

1)    Walking was the best rehab I could do at that time for my recent double back surgery that had removed large portions from three of my bottom discs.

2)    Walking alone gave me time to think. I needed a clear head to ponder my next move. For the first time in 20 years I was no longer one hundred percent certain of my future. And that scared me.

I had walked alone like that before. Hours and hours at a time. From the years 1996-1999. I had moved home from university with severe stomach issues that had prevented me from not just playing football but living a normal life. I was in lots of pain and discomfort. Walking was about as much as I could do.

I was in total physical limbo. Mentally though, I was always 100 certain of what I was going to do. The thinking then wasn’t to ponder the what – It was merely to figure out the how.

Even through that long three-year stretch of complete removal from sports, never for a minute did I lose the vision of where I would end up. Becoming a pro football player was all my mind could see. It was a vision I had not only burnt deep into my own psyche, but also one I would share daily with anyone and everyone who cared to indulge my rambling. I was going to make it. There was no question of that. It may have been the only thing that really kept me going. I just had no idea how.

My parents for their part would periodically try to get me to come to grips with the very real possibility that pro football probably just wasn’t going to be in the cards. I hadn’t played college football for three years and didn’t look to even make it back to that. My father particularly would try to bring reason into my life. The loving parent in him had to try to bring me to reality somehow and find a way to get me moving forward with my life. My vision wouldn’t budge. Every time he tried, I fought back with a detailed description of exactly where I was going to get to.

The truth was I couldn’t get away from that vision even if I had wanted to. I had burned it in so clear that it haunted my every second. There was no goal written down, no wish list or dream board. There was just a picture in my head of where I would end up, right down to the shoes on my feet and the kind of cloves on my hands. My vision was the gas that kept the fire lit. It kept me moving forward, even though I didn’t know how I was going to get to where I wanted to go

Looking back now, I firmly believe the strength and clarity I had of my vision was my greatest asset towards making my dream a reality. It was what enabled me to eventually do everything I had to do at the levels I had to do them all it in order to make it. My vison kept me focused and fueled. It would not let me quit and drove me to do whatever it took. I can’t overestimate the power of crafting your vision. I firmly believe it’s the most important piece of any successful puzzle. That’s the one thing I did have. The rest I had to figure out, and with some luck along the way, that’s exactly what I ended up doing.

I did make it back. I was able to return to university and play ball again. I was fortunate enough to become the first-round draft pick of the Toronto Argonauts in 2001. Only to end up with the humiliation of being one of the very few, if not only, first round pick to get cut in training camp. My phone call home to inform my parents resulted in a conversation that ended up becoming my litmus test for the remainder of my career. My Dad asked me one question. Tell me your vision?

You see, he had learned over the previous years that it was the strength of belief in my vison that drove me to make it back. He wanted to question the strength of my belief in it still. It took no time to answer him. I described in great length the clear vison of where I was going to be. That was all I needed. Back to work I went at making that vison a reality.

That test from my father remained consistent throughout the rest of my career. At every cross road and obstacle I met, my dad would always ask me that same question – tell me your vision? Each and every time I was able to answer immediately which reminded me to stop wasting time pondering and get back to work making that picture a reality.

Every single time until that January of 2014.

I was two months into recovery from double back surgery. I had to get 3 discs removed from the bottom of my back. It was a debilitating injury that had sidelined me the entire previous season. The surgery offered some long-awaited relief from the constant sciatic pain shooting down my left leg.

I told myself I wouldn’t allow my career to end this way. I reminded myself that I had come back from far worse. I started selling myself and everyone close to me on yet another comeback. Then, as always, my father threw the real gauntlet down. He asked the only question that he knew really mattered, - “Angus, tell me your vison?” For the first time in twenty years, I couldn’t throw back an immediate answer. That sacred me.

The problem in January 2014 was that my vision wasn’t haunting me anymore. What was haunting me was that I now had to think about it. I had to try to see it clearly again. For the first time in over twenty years, the picture was fuzzy. My struggle wasn’t the decision to retire, my struggle was coming to grips with the reality of that decision, that it wasn’t what I truly wanted to do anymore. It was the void that really scared me. The absence of any clear vison left me reverted to holding on to one I knew instead of the risk of investing the time and energy required to build a knew unknown. When in doubt, we tend to cling to what we know. It’ the clinging that’s dangerous.

1)Your vison should push and pull you forward. You shouldn’t need to have to push and pull it. You should be hanging on from behind having it pull you, not hanging on to it from the front trying to drag it all with you.

2)Your vision should pull you, it shouldn’t need to be pulled. You hang on to a vison because its pulling you where you want to go. You should never be hanging on to a vison because it’s slipping away behind.

My vision had always been future based. It was what I could see myself doing and becoming. The difference this time was, the only vision I could come up with was memories of what I had already done. Memories of who I have already been. That was a red flag. I was now forcing it.

My Dad could see my struggle. He softly reminded me of a conversation I had with him after my third season of pro ball. That was the year I finally became a starter and could begin to really see my life long vison becoming reality. We chatted after that season about the pride I had in myself for making it. For overcoming all of my obstacles and doing what I had told myself (and everyone that would listen) that I would do. I was finally living my vision. What now? Time to refine and improve it. I saw myself becoming an even better player, becoming a leader and eventually a champion. These were all images to chase. Visons that drove me to get back to work at improving all I could to make that picture my eventual reality.

 What we also talked about was what I saw around me. The other players on my team. My teammates. What was I learning from them? We spoke about great friends I was making, the education and inspiration I was soaking up from so many. All the positives I was gaining beyond just playing the actual game. We also spoke of warning signs. What negatives was I seeing? What were things I was learning from my teammates that I clearly wanted to avoid? My Dad reminded me that for me, it came down to one, playing beyond my vison. Playing past the time of wanting to anymore. Playing because I didn’t know what else to do, or because I was too scared to move on into the unknown. Playing without any vison for it anymore. Playing for all the wrong reasons.

My Dad reminded me that I was adamite I never wanted to become that player. Playing to hold on to what I once was and wanted. It was sad for me to see guys like that. I promised my Dad and myself that I would never let that be me. But how do you know if your holding on too long? Ask the vison question. Or better yet, have someone who knows you better than yourself ask you. If it’s nostalgia that pops up – you’re holding on, time to let go. That’s where I was. Wanting to still be what I used to be. That is an impossible and dangerous ask. One that only leads to frustration and problems. Life is forwards, not backwards. Memories are to be enjoyed, not chased.

That was all it took. That simple conversation with a very direct question from my Dad made it crystal clear. I was fooling myself trying to hold on to my old vison. I was scared of the unknown and wanted to stay where it had worked well for me. I was thinking like a child, craving the comforts of yesterday. It was time to do what I had preached my whole life. I had to visually build a new tomorrow, and for the first time since I could remember, that tomorrow would no longer involve being a football player. That seemed scary until I realized the immense freedom and excitement with that truth. For the first time since I was a teenager I had a total blank slate. I wasn’t being pulled anymore which meant I had the time and space to create something completely new. It was time to let go.

Being a professional athlete was something I had wanted to become pretty much my whole life. It was a single focused mission that I had allowed to guide my every action. That discipline to my visual creation served me well. I went through a ton of hardships (as everyone does) to achieve what I wanted. I had succeeded. But every mission has a conclusion. The hardest part for some is seeing when that really is. The greatest tragedy of any great accomplishments is not knowing when to stop. It was hard for me to say goodbye to football, but it was the right time to do it. It took my Dad shining the mirror of my own words back at me to see that. We can easily fool ourselves, especially when there are high emotions involved. That’s why you need trusted people around you. People who know what you are all about. Who know what really matters to you. Who will be there to help you through all those struggles while chasing that vital vison. But who also love you enough to keep testing and challenging you on it. Not because they don’t love or care for you, but because they love and care about you that much.

Memories are easy to hold onto. Trouble is they live in the past. Building a strong vison is much harder. You have to put in the work to build it, because it hasn’t happened yet. Spend that time. Build it strong. Share it with those who care for you and will help you along that way. But also ask those same people to keep challenging you on it from time to time. To make sure you are still doing what you really want to be doing and not fooling yourself into believing you are still what you used to be.

I firmly believe a strong vison is the most powerful tool you can have in your journey through this life. Just make sure it’s helping you move forward and not dragging you backwards. If in doubt, just ask my Dad.

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