Next

Many of my friends on Facebook have been sharing an article written by Arthur C. Brooks that appeared in the July 2019 issue of The Atlantic, entitled “You’re Professional Decline is Coming (Much) Sooner Than You Think.” The article describes Brooks’ “quest to figure out how to turn my eventual professional decline from a matter of dread into an opportunity for progress.”

While I’m not an athlete, I’ve followed athletics for most of my life, first as a coach’s daughter then as coach’s wife, as well as a spectator and fan. Therefore, I’m very aware that some elite athletes struggle with depression as they come to terms with their declining ability. But, I had never thought of professional decline beyond the realm of the athletic arena. I read Brook’s article with interest because these days I’m closer to retirement and the end of my professional career than I am to the beginning or even middle. I read the article looking for insight. Frankly, the article surprised me. It was a little hard to relate to because this is just not something I’ve worried about during the course of my life.

Perhaps this hasn’t been a concern for me because I don’t get joy out of recognition for current or past glories. While I consider myself pretty ambitious, as would most of my friends, I loathe public recognition for accomplishments. Maybe that’s because I have always worked in a team environment – not ever has the success of any project I’ve been involved with been the result of my singular contribution. When I have received awards, it’s embarrassing for me. As the leader, I’m the one who gets acknowledged, but it’s always the team in a collaborative effort that made any project successful.

I still get as excited when the creative juices start flowing and we begin to discuss new project ideas, but my excitement and joy is fueled from watching the team excel or witnessing individual staff members as they become more confident in their ideas.

I’m thrilled when former staff members rise to leadership positions. While I’m flattered when they ask for my advice, I mostly listen to them as they bounce ideas off of me. I pretty much just validate their ideas and thoughts. Already, these individuals are so much more advanced in their professional development than I was at the same stage of my career. This doesn’t make me sad; it makes me ecstatic and hopeful.

When Tony Dungy retired as coach of the Indianapolis Colts in 2009 at the age of 53, I listened to many sportscasters talk about his career as a player and coach. Not one of those sportscasters seemed “worried” about Dungy’s life after football. Coach Dungy, who lead the Colts to a Super Bowl title in 2007, was not the most successful NFL coach in terms of wins and championships. But, he may be having the most successful “retirement.” When his “glory days” of football were behind him, he “unplugged” from playing and coaching football, but he stayed “plugged in” to life. He is a best-selling author of the books, Quiet Strength: The Principles, Practices, and Priorities of a Winning Life and Uncommon: Finding Your Path to Significance. (I’ve read both and highly recommend them.) He’s involved in numerous charitable causes, including All Pro Dad and Basket of Hope. He’s also an analyst on NBC’s Football Night in America. And, one more thing – he writes a blog!

In an interview with NPR shortly after his retirement from coaching in 2009, Dungy said, “If you're just saying, hey, I'm doing this. I'm working to make money. I'm working to increase my status. If that's all there is, I think you will find out that it's meaningless.”

Coach Dungy said that while it was meaningful and fun to go to the Super Bowl and win it, those times were not as meaningful as helping young men who came into the NFL at 21 or 22 years of age and watching them grow as men and community leaders.

I don’t think I have to worry about “avoiding misery” as Brooks discusses in The Atlantic article. When my professional tenure ends, I don’t think I’ll be looking back wistfully, but I’ll be looking forward with excited anticipation. Because I understand, like Coach Dungy, that there is still joy, and possibly some “glory days” ahead.