Compared to the plight of many of his brethren, Trevor Pryce got off easy.
Still, forgive Pryce if he doesn't think he got off scot-free.
In Sunday's edition of The New York Times, Pryce penned an thoughtful essay on his post-NFL anxieties.
"Now my Mondays go something like this: Work on my tennis serve; take a conference call with a Hollywood executive; get my three children to school; browse my favorite Web sites, none of them involving football; check my Words With Friends; and take the dog to day care. By then, it's only 10:30 a,m.
"Welcome to the life of the secure and utterly bored former professional athlete."
I know, I know, the "bored" life Pryce describes is basically the perfect Monday morning for many of us. But Pryce is coming from a unique angle. The spotlight is gone, as are the fans, competition, and the "Goodfellas" treatment at the Copacabana.
Pryce planned for the end of his NFL career even before it began. He used his six-month offseasons to go down different life avenues. Still, the transition has been difficult.
"Nothing truly prepared me for retirement," he wrote. "It hit me across the face like a Deacon Jones head slap. Suddenly, I'm sitting around at 10:30 a.m. looking for something good on television -- which is impossible.
"Don't cry for me, though. I'm getting used to it slowly and will be content with my new life. That is, until Rex calls."
Again, a great read that's well worth checking out.