Back in June, Gregg Williams waxed poetically on a Zoom call.
The subject of the defensive coordinator’s admiration was C.J. Mosley. The middle linebacker only played in parts of two games in 2019, his first season with the Jets and Williams, but the coach was blown away by Mosley’s actions while recovering from a nagging groin injury.
“He may be the best I’ve ever been with in my life at the NFL level,” Williams said of Mosley, who delayed season-ending surgery in hopes of returning to the field. “He stayed active, energized and led this football team behind the scenes. He prepared like he was getting ready to play that week. C.J. showed tremendous leadership in doing that.”
With Williams’ praise in mind, there should be no doubt that Mosley is dedicated to his craft, that he was motivated to return to his Pro Bowl form in his second season with the Jets. And so, it stands to reason that his decision to opt-out of the 2020 campaign was not made lightly.
Mosley has yet to comment publicly on his choice, but ESPN’s Rich Cimini reported he was doing so due to family health concerns amid the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic. Regardless of what those health concerns are — and the details are hardly anyone’s business if Mosley doesn’t want them publicized — it should go without saying that there’s nothing wrong with a person putting their family before football.
And yet, the small ounce of consideration required to realize that seems lost on some after a quick scroll through social media.
“He’s soft,” one Facebook user commented on Jets Wire’s story about Mosley’s opt-out.
“No respect,” wrote another despite knowing nothing of Mosley’s family situation.
Those are just fragments from a few of the more mundane comments, but anyone who spends time on social media knows it didn’t take long for Mosley’s decision to be met with profanity, hostility and antipathy.
That’s been the case for most players who have chosen not to play their respective sport in 2020, no matter the reason or the detail in which the choice was explained. The expectation from far too many is that athletes are here to entertain the masses, their health and humanity be damned. The lack of compassion for them speaks to far greater problems in the world as the pandemic rages onto yet another calendar page roughly a month shy of the NFL season.
In the case of Mosley, maybe some are mad that the Jets lost their two best players in the span of a week after trading Jamal Adams, thus putting their love of football before common decency. Other fans may feel entitled to an explanation like the one Eagles WR Marquise Goodwin gave for his opt-out, but they’re not. Or perhaps Mosley’s fortunate position — and that of other athletes choosing to opt-out — has rubbed people the wrong way.
Mosley is one of the best at what he does and still has guaranteed money left on the five-year, $85 million contract he signed two offseasons ago — of which he’s already collected $29 million for two games — so his job likely won’t be in jeopardy when he returns to the Jets in 2021. Players who opt-out also get either a $350,000 stipend if considered medically high risk or a $150,000 salary advance, something that was agreed to by the NFL and NFLPA.
Obviously, not every person has that type of money or security to fall back on. Supermarket employees, healthcare workers, teachers and countless others have been going to work for far less money — and, in some cases, with far fewer safety protocols than sports leagues have in place — for months. Businesses across the country have been forced to shut down and millions of people have had to file for employment. Countless loved ones have been lost.
So far, 2020 has been unimaginably cruel to far too many. But that doesn’t mean we should lack empathy when someone like Mosley chooses to mitigate the risks facing his family.
Because the reality is that many of the people calling him soft would make the exact same decision if they were in his shoes. Doing so would be nothing but respectable.