Lost in Transition

I retired from professional basketball over a decade ago with a smile on my face and a clean slate. I had crunched the numbers and realized that I could potentially earn more in a 'normal' job than I could playing professional basketball. I had finished my last season making $5000 a month, a significant drop from my previous earnings. I needed stability. I needed peace. I needed to spend more than a few months with my wife whom I had married four years prior. I needed to spend more than a few months in the house I purchased four years prior. I didn’t realize at that moment that I was a ticking time bomb, and it was about to explode.

Initially, when I settled into my new life as a post-professional athlete, I found peace. No more hours spent daily at the gym. No more hours in the weight room. I could have a drink when I wanted to, rest my body when I wanted to and not have that voice in the back of my head telling me I needed to get my fat ass up and work. That voice was subdued and I could finally relax.

I took a few months away from the pressures I had endured during my entire adult life. I didn’t worry about money, or competition, or any other stressors. I began to appreciate my relationships and the small pleasures that ordinary people had enjoyed for years. As fall arrived, I could stroll through the Hallmarkesque downtown of Haddonfield, NJ, sipping coffee from the local coffee house and enjoying the perfect fall weather.

This was a far cry from my previous autumns, when I was either busting my ass during two-a-days, or stressing that I didn’t yet have a team willing to fly me across the world for my impressive ability to put a round ball in a basket.

It was heavenly…until it wasn’t. Around October, my wife had begun pushing me to figure out what career I had planned on pursuing, now that my physical attributes were negated. My response, “coaching” or, as I put it, “something in business”. I had watched enough of The Office to know that finding a job couldn’t be that hard.

I had a plan, I had an interesting backstory, but what I lacked was a general understanding of what the fuck I was doing. I started sending out my resume to college coaches and athletic directors waiting for the plethora of responses that I could sift through and decide what was the right fit. Days turned into weeks, but the responses never came.

Strike 1

Why was no one jumping on this opportunity to bring in a ten-year veteran of pro basketball? The answer was a blow to my ego. I had been gone for a decade. I was no longer relevant. I was competing against ten years of applicants who all were fresher in the minds of the decision makers.

It was time for my backup plan. I was going to be the next Bud Fox, whatever the fuck that meant. In my mind, it meant going into an office, shouting a bunch, then returning to my mansion. It was so simple, only…it wasn’t. I had applied to over a hundred financial institutions. I had an interview with two. These numbers were worse than my free throw percentage.

My first interview was at a financial management firm over an hour and a half away in a suburban business center. Not exactly Wall Street. I donned one of the two power suits I had purchased for this endeavor and got a fresh cut.I thought my height would set me apart, but the other applicants were all like me; tall, in shape, power-suited, but younger. They hadn’t had to run sprints at 7am over the past twenty years, or had the shit kicked out of them by smelly Lithuanian centers. They were eager and had the plucky spirit I once had, while fighting to make my first professional team. I was tired and worn down. I still believed however, that there was enough wisdom behind my eyes to set myself apart.

When my name was called, I entered an office where I was met by a large man with white hair who promptly informed me that he was a former college football player. Being tall, people often feel the need to share their own athletic backgrounds with me, either to relate or, in this case, to seemingly assert dominance.

We spent the next thirty minutes discussing my playing career, with no mention of job responsibilities or qualifications. When the conversation finally ran its course, he reached into his desk and produced a sheet of paper.”'Let's get down to business,” he said, handing me the paper. “I want you to write down the names of your former teammates and coaches. If we hire you, you'll use this list to build a client portfolio.” I nodded and scribbled down about twenty-five names before handing it back to him.”We'll let you know,” he said, and I was escorted out the door.

He later called asking me to provide him the numbers that correlated with those names. I asked him if I got the job, to which he again replied, “We’ll let you know.” I told him I needed to do some research and we can talk it over when we sit down again. We never did.

My second interview took place in Center City Philadelphia, just a 20-minute train ride from my home. This time I wore the “free” portion of the “Buy One Get One Free” suit sale at Men’s Warehouse.This establishment was far more sophisticated, situated on the 23rd floor of a towering skyscraper. There was a secretary, a fancy elevator, and my interviewer's office had floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the city. It felt like a good fit. Who knows, maybe I'd finally be able to buy suits at full price and not off the BOGO rack.

Like before, the interview began by asking about my backstory and my time playing basketball abroad. However, this time, it was brief and to the point. He then bombarded me with a series of interview questions that weren't in my 'Answering Tough Interview Questions for Dummies' book. These questions delve into my understanding of business, which at that moment was comparable to Eric's understanding of business ethics during the final debate with Billy Madison. I did my best, but looking back, I knew I had bombed.

A few days later, I received the classic 'It's not you, it's us' email, letting me know that I wouldn't be working there, and I'd have to continue buying more shitty suits (I added the last bit).

The questions during these interviews made me realize that who I was during my playing career no longer aligned with who I had become post-retirement. Everything seemed unchanged externally; I still looked the same, possessed the same charming personality and attributes, but my identity had drastically changed.

Strike 2

I stumbled into the only job I had a connection to, teaching. Both my parents were in education, and I had an 'in.' Additionally, despite the lack of interest from colleges in my coaching abilities, a local high school wanted me as a coach. It seemed like a natural progression. Only it wasn’t, it was fucking horrible. Despite numerous connections, I had to return to night school and spend a year and a half as a substitute teacher before securing a full-time position. I was mentally wrecked.My ego had been pulled down off the top shelf, thrown into a shredder then fed to a dog, who shit it out and buried it under 5,000 lbs of bricks.

To make matters worse, my struggles had taken a toll on my relationship with my wife. After six years of enduring mental and financial hardships, we ended up divorced. I became a single father, with no place to live and a job that paid me very little. I had hit rock bottom.

Strike 3

I remember sitting in my classroom one day when an email popped up. It was from someone who had read my old blog posts that I used to write for SLAM. They asked me why I hadn't written in a while. I contemplated responding with something like, 'Because I hate my life and everyone in it,' but I chose to thank them instead. I began revisiting my old blog posts and, as I read, I laughed and reminisced, amazed at how funny and important I once was. My complete lack of confidence in my current life had taken its toll.

Later that day, I spoke to my brother about these blog posts. He called me a 'lightning rod' for everything absurd that could happen to a player overseas and suggested that I compile these stories into a book. That was the turning point in my life.I had a goal again. I wasn’t just a robot going in and out of work everyday, now I had a purpose.

With my book Overseas Famous, I sought to shed light on the often unseen side of being a professional athlete abroad. I wanted to tell the story of the player who grinds it out in foreign leagues, battling not just opponents, but cultural differences, language barriers, and personal isolation. Through these stories, I aimed to give a voice to those whose journeys might go unnoticed, highlighting the sacrifices we make and the courage it takes to pursue a dream in an unfamiliar land.

Around the same time, I started a podcast where I interviewed athletes who had played overseas or had affiliations with overseas experiences. These conversations opened my eyes to many overseas issues I had not encountered before, despite having seen my share. What struck me most was how many of these athletes were just like me. They all thought that life post-career would be easy, a relief, a time to finally relax. However, the reality was far from it.

I began researching, uncovering the pitfalls that many athletes faced: the challenges of mentality, ego, lack of preparation, loss of identity, and the absence of a robust network. This exploration paved the way for my latest venture, FoKused Sports with the slogan 'Redefining the Student Athlete.'

Rooted in the concept of "kairos," a Greek term representing the opportune moment, we recognize that the transition from athletic glory is a pivotal time of immense potential. Our comprehensive coursework guides athletes through every step of their journey, from the personal to the professional. We ensure athletes have access to job placement, networking opportunities, education, and counseling. Through partnerships with experts in psychology and personal development, we provide support, addressing not just the practicalities of post-sports life, but also the emotional and psychological challenges.

My own path has taught me that life is a series of chapters, and each one offers an opportunity to reinvent oneself. As I reflect on my journey from professional basketball player to author and now founder of FoKused Sports, I'm filled with a deep sense of purpose. The chance to impact the lives of athletes, to guide them through uncharted territories, is a privilege I don't take lightly.

In the end, my story is a testament to the power of resilience, adaptation, and the belief that our experiences, no matter how diverse, can connect us in ways that inspire change. Through FoKused Sports, I'm dedicated to helping athletes rewrite their narratives, embracing the unknown with courage, and discovering that their journey is far from over once the final buzzer sounds.