LIFE AFTER SPORT

LIFE AFTER SPORT

Eric Savoie

There’s a moment every athlete dreads, though we all know it will eventually come. For some, it’s after the final whistle of a championship game. For others, it sneaks up quietly, with no big farewell, just the sudden realization that the chapter has closed. For me, it felt like stepping off a moving treadmill. The abrupt jolt from years of momentum leaving me standing still, unsure of what to do next.

Growing up, sports weren’t just a part of my life, they were my life. Practices, tournaments, road trips, team dinners, and those moments when everything hung on a single play, that was my world. Competing at a top level wasn’t just about the game, it was a way of being. It shaped how I saw myself, how I connected with others, and even how I felt purposeful. And then, one day, it was over. Just like that.

At first, there was relief, a strange kind of freedom from the grind. No more early alarms, no more ice baths, no more aching muscles, no more pressure. But that relief quickly gave way to something else, something heavier. Without the structure of sports, life felt like it was floating in space. The constant adrenaline, the shared goals, the laughs with teammates, all of it was gone. In its place was an emptiness I didn’t know how to fill.

I’d wake up and wonder, what now? For so long my days had been dictated by a schedule, my worth measured by my performance. The competitive fire that once drove me now flickered aimlessly. I walk into the gym, but without a team to train with or a goal to chase, it feels hollow. The friendships that had been forged in the moments of competition, so deeply rooted in shared victories and struggles, began to drift as we all went our separate ways.

Socially, it can be isolating. The bond of a team is something unique. It’s not just about shared interests but about trust, sacrifice, and a deep understanding of each other’s highs and lows. Without that, I felt like a part of me was missing. People outside of the sports try to empathize, but it is hard to explain the loss of something that had defined me for so long.

And then there was the question of my purpose. Competing had given me a clear direction, win the next game, beat my personal best, help the team succeed. Without that, I struggle. It isn’t just about filling time, it is about filling a void that had been central to my identity. Who am I  if not an athlete anymore? What am I working toward if not a victory? You do not realize how deep you are in it, until you are out.

It’s gradually taken time to start answering those questions. I’ve learned that the skills and values I learned in sports, discipline, resilience, and teamwork, are still a part of me. I’ve discovered new passions, new hobbies, built new friendships, and found ways to channel my competitive spirit into other pursuits. I have focused more on who I want to be now. the transition has not been easy, but the void doesn't fill overnight and is still ongoing. I have learned to embrace that challenge and enjoy the journey of it. 

To anyone else facing that same internal struggle. don't feel like you are supposed to have the answers right away. It’s okay to feel the loss and confusion of something that was such a big part of you. It’s okay to feel lost for a while. But the end of one chapter is also the beginning of another. The lessons you’ve learned, the connections you’ve made, and the strength you’ve built, those things don’t disappear when the games stop. They’re part of you, and they’ll help you find your way forward. Be grateful for all that has happened, but stay excited for all that is ahead.

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