Connor Ellinor

Goodbye Football. Well, damn. Crazy to say it’s been 2+ years since the last time I stepped on a football field. I spent that time first trying to function like a healthy human being again… then fighting my way back to playing the greatest sport at a high level. As I sit here writing this—with tears rolling down my face—I’m feeling it all. Tears of pain, sadness, the sting of not becoming the player I wanted to be. I wonder why. But who am I to question what God meant for me to be? I’ve come to understand there’s a timing for everything. I understand some chapters are supposed to have rough endings. Nevertheless, we flip the page—and the story still continues, and it only gets better. This isn’t a sorrow post, haha. Because honestly, what I’m feeling most is joy. Pure joy. Gratitude. This game has meant everything to me. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known for 20+ years. I gave this shit everything—AND then some—just like countless others do. And it shaped me into who I am today. I learned what it means to strive with others toward a goal, to stand for something far bigger than myself while the opposing side does everything it can to hold you back. I learned confidence, humility, love, brotherhood, and community. I learned how to overcome anything and everything that comes with adversity. I’ve made game-winning plays, and I’ve given up game-winning touchdowns. Those moments feel like opposite ends of the earth, but both of them built me. So even though it’s a”kids game”, to me it’s more—it simulates the journey of life. I’m beyond grateful for every step: to big-time high school ball, to playing at the GREATEST university of all, and then living the dream of playing in the NFL. Although, my goal was never just to “make it.” I wanted to take over. I wanted to have impact. But, even if it didn’t end the way I pictured, I’m truly blessed that God gave me the vision, the doors, the people, and the memories. To the people and homies who watched me grow, supported me, and held me to a standard on and off the field—thank you. To my brothers in the locker room who bled, worked, laughed, and suffered with me—thank you. To all the coaches and staff who poured into me, and to fans who showed love through the highs and lows—thank you. Y’all are part of my story forever. I hope I inspired some, helped some, and created memories that last a lifetime.. like the ones you all gave me. If I did that, I did something right. There were days the rehab hurt more than the hits. Days I questioned if I was chasing ghosts. Days I felt like the only one in the world who understood what my body and mind were going through. But day after day, I got up anyway. That discipline changed me. It taught me to keep showing up even when it seems the thing you love most is working against you, when there’s no crowd, when it’s just you, your thoughts, and your why. That’s a gift I’m carrying out of this game. I won’t pretend I don’t feel the what-ifs. I do. I won’t pretend I don’t feel some resentment toward the injuries or the timing. I do. But I also won’t pretend I don’t feel God’s hand all over this. Some prayers are answered in ways you don’t recognize at first. Sometimes the lesson is the answer. Sometimes the ending that doesn’t look “good” is exactly the one that sets up the next chapter. So to the game I’ll forever love and cherish—thank you for the euphoria, the highest of highs, the tough lessons that didn’t feel like lessons at the time, and the perspective I couldn’t have learned any other way. Thank you for the brotherhood. Thank you for the standard. Thank you for the purpose. So with that Goodbye… to the jersey. But not to the work. Not the standard. Not the love. As this new chapter starts, the target doesn’t change, just the scope. With much love, —Caden

New Wizards guard Tre Johnson explained at the draft combine in May how he essentially has zero off-court interests or hobbies. He’s all hoop.

SCOTTIE SCHEFFLER IS NOT HUMAN