Cutting for the Chase
The parables of Jesus contain some of the most insightful and enduring words of wisdom recorded in history. Not all of the parables attributed to him, however, fall gently on our ears. Their rather blunt, some might even say, cruel punch lines seem out of character to the persona of the gentle, meek and mild Jesus of popular devotion. So we may only, and with some reluctance, find ourselves wanting to dwell on his story of an uninvited drop-in who shows up, improperly attired, to a wedding feast, only to be summarily dismissed and tossed out into the streets. What’s worse, the moral of the story runs counter to our current idolization of all things inclusive: “Many are called but few are chosen.” (Matthew 22:1-14)
Truer words were probably never spoken, especially as they relate to what is, for millions of Americans, this week’s most notable news event: the NFL’s final pre-season roster cuts. Yesterday’s roster purges were a bloodless but nonetheless painful exercise that has left everyone smarting a bit, from the GMs and coaches who invested so much of their hope and money in the development of players, to the players themselves, their investment of time, sweat and talent into pursuing this most coveted career path now dashed. The fact that it happens every August in America’s most lucrative professional sports enterprise doesn’t make it any easier for those now out of work.
How many people are we talking about? Only 722 players, representing 43% of the applicant pool that has been working hard these past six months to secure a place on one of 32 NFL teams this year. With salaries topping more than $512 million, this represents a major, albeit an expected, expense item that owners can erase from their payrolls in helping them stay under the $208 million salary cap for each team mandated by the league.
So when ‘the Turk’ -—a less-than-endearing term for each team’s messenger of bad news—delivered termination notices this week it meant two things. First, each team’s 53 players and 16 reserves who made the cut could breathe a sigh of relief. That is for a few days at least, since job security in this business always hangs by the thread of intact knee ligaments and non-concussed craniums. And second, the discarded athletes, some finding themselves at the end of the line due to age and injury, and others yet hungering for that one-in-a-million chance to make it in football, will now have a chance to pitch their skills to any team in need of their particular services. With the cuts having been made, the NFL and its hordes of worshipers can brace themselves for the chase to Super Bowl LVII set for February 12, 2023, beginning with an encore of last year’s nail biter between the Bills and the Rams.
What fascinates me, and perhaps draws so many millions of others to this sport, is that it may well be our last, or one of our last, enterprises in which merit determines who gets to wear a uniform and who doesn’t. Those who survived this week’s final cut and are now getting ready for their week one opponents have been preparing for this opportunity since they were little boys in outsized shoulder pads and helmets colliding with each other in pee-wee leagues. And their quest to ultimately enter the collision arenas with other gladiators has come at the end of a very long and costly winnowing process. Nothing less than a survival of the fittest-—and luckiest-—process carried them through high school, college and now into the pros. As the chart at the end of this essay portrays, the odds in favor of them making it were either slim or none, which evokes in many a tremendous amount of awe out of respect for both their talent and their perseverance. Say what you will about overpriced athletes in America, to think that spawning salmon have a 500% better chance of making it upstream, over fish ladders and past the gaping jaws of huge brown bears, than do football players making an NFL roster, those who survive the cut are a rare breed indeed.
Why is any of this such a noteworthy event to occupy so much space in one of my essays? Three reasons come to mind.
· It confirms the amazing, often delusional, power of dreams to motivate people to achieve something for which they obsessively redirect and prioritize their values, energies, and schedules. While there is no necessary or proven correlation between dreaming and accomplishing in life, one rarely attains the latter without harboring the former. However far-fetched the slogan, “if you can dream it, you can be it,” there seem to be enough young people who make it their mantra to fill the rosters of sports teams, theater and dance troupes in keeping these businesses alive. Let’s just not talk too much about the 99% of those who never live to see such dreams come true. For those kids and their parents I would only say, “make sure you have a realistic plan B in mind when you set off in pursuit of your dreams.” Many are called to dream big dreams, but only a few will ever see them come to fruition.
· The process by which professional athletes make a team and survive the cut is a jarring counterpoint to the chorus of inclusion and equity being proclaimed from so many broadcast studios, college lecture halls and political pulpits in America today. Since color barriers were breached in the big box-office sports over six decades ago, playing fields for athletes have been leveled to a degree rarely seen elsewhere in our country. The NFL, and most of the other big-time sports, illustrate meritocracy in its most obvious form in America. Given the billions of dollars invested by NFL owners in building teams that can compete at a Super Bowl level, it is understandable that they want the very best managers, coaches, and players that money can buy. And that means they are all-in when it comes to hiring those with the skill, the temperament, and the experience to merit their investment, irrespective of those racial, religious, ethnic and gender considerations that so many today have elevated above all other values. To be sure, diversity should be factored into the hiring of front office and coaching personnel, but is irrelevant in building teams that can compete at the highest levels on the gridirons, diamonds, rinks and courts in which talent and effort are the only determiners of success. Many are called to compete, but only a few have the right stuff to make it at the highest levels.
· The NFL player cuts underscore the often-painful realization that our value in life, at least to those who care to pay us for our work or celebrate our accomplishments, is always temporary. Bonus babies and those signed to mega-contracts have a brief window of time to enjoy their stardom. While a few of them may somehow manage to play this game for 10 or more years, the average length of career is much shorter, a mere 3.3 years, with kickers and quarterbacks having the best longevity. So when a Tom Brady, still playing at 45, or a George Blanda, who played until he was 48, find a way to compete into their third decade, it is a testament to their talent, their endurance, and their luck. For they represent a very small minority of professional athletes who survive long enough to retire, never having to face a visit from the Turk to send them packing. Many are called to pursue stardom, but few can grasp that star, or hold onto it, for long.
In one week the NFL will begin its 102nd season. I’m sure to be among those following some of the games, hoping that this year my Giants will find a way to be as competitive as they were when I first fell in love with them as a child. But aside from the anticipation of acrobatic plays and immovable goal line stands, I’ll be watching how this unusually gifted assemblage of athletes holds up over the course of a long, arduous season. They truly are survivors, each of them somehow overcoming a litany of injuries, good and bad coaches, fortuitous and game-changing referee calls, and the yearly ordeal of auditioning for the job of their dreams. It promises to be quite a spectacle to behold. But it will also be quite a living demonstration of the power and durability of the human spirit in testing itself in arenas in which, while many are called, only a few are chosen.
