Getting A Life . . . After Football: Ex-Coug Jack Thompson Finds A Way

We tend to think of big-name athletes as frozen in time, the same videos of their great plays running over and over, the same stories of their great college games or pro games being told and retold.

But college lasts four years, and the average career in the pros actually less, 3.2 years.

A few of these stars end up making a living as sports commentators, and so it's almost as if they never left the field. Now they're just wearing blue blazers that always look too small.

A different life

Then there are the many others who've had to figure out life after leaving that locker room for the last time.

Recently I saw a photo in this paper's business section, in a listing called "On the move," which tells of job promotions in local firms.

The smiling man in the picture looked familiar. The caption read, "Jack Thompson was promoted from special projects manager to director of sales for Da Vinci Fine Chocolates Ltd."

I called him up. It was the same Jack Thompson from the 15-year-old stories now on microfilm.

Oct. 15, 1978: "Once a frightened freshman who hurt his knee before the kickoff of his first game, Thompson has become the most widely acclaimed football player at Washington State University in nearly 50 years and is rated the best college passer in the country."

Joins Bengals

July 12, 1979: "Jack Thompson, Washington State passing wizard, has signed a long-term contract with the Cincinnati Bengals . . . (he) was the first quarterback taken and Cincinnati's No. 1 choice in the NFL draft."

It made for a great success story, about the Seattle kid whose parents came here from Samoa when he was 4, hence the nickname, the "Throwin' Samoan."

But the stories then become fewer and fewer. A long-term contract has a different meaning in pro football. Three years later, after a contractual lawsuit filed by Thompson against the Bengals, he found himself playing for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, a starter about half of the time. Three years after that he was cut and his pro career was over. Thompson wanted to keep playing, but there were no takers.

He is now 38, with graying hair, married, living on Queen Anne Hill, the father of two sons, ages 8 and 13.

His new job title means he oversees five salesmen at Da Vinci, which makes 44 kinds of flavoring syrups for coffee drinks. It's a booming business, and his metal desk is crammed into a warehouse alongside other desks.

Looking back

There are a few memories from his football days on display, such as a photo of himself with two other former WSU star quarterbacks, Drew Bledsoe and Mark Rypien.

They are overshadowed by the Plan-A-Month calendar, by the map of the U.S. with flags showing distributors for syrups.

"Whether you're playing pro football, or college football, you live pretty much in a sheltered environment. Like interviews. Everything's spoon-fed to you. You have the press conference, and then there is a P.R. guy saying, `OK, Jack, thank you very much,' and usher you out," Thompson remembered.

A 1987 study of former NFL players found a considerable portion saying they had experienced personal, financial and job problems after football. Thompson guessed that 60 percent of pro football players aren't prepared for life after the locker room.

"That notoriety isn't there, that association with the football team, where people look up to you and watch your every move. He's now an ex-jock. It's a roller-coaster ride for them," Thompson said. He was more ready than most, he said, with a college degree in business administration, and it still was an adjustment.

He still has friends from his playing days, and they commiserate about life after the locker room.

"I talked to Charlie Alexander, I don't know if you remember him," Thompson said.

Well, kind of.

"At LSU they called him, `Alexander the Great,' " Thompson said. "He used to have a sporting-goods store down in Baton Rouge. When I talked to him, he said, `Man, this working for a living is a bitch. You actually gotta get up at 6:30 or 7, and then go home at 6:30 or 7.' I said, `Ain't it, though.' "

Thompson earned a good living when he was in the pros, he says, but nothing like today's big salaries.

He learned some hard lessons about investing. Thompson sunk money into real estate in Portland, and the market crashed in the early '80s.

"You pick yourself up and dust yourself off," he says.

Since the end of the locker-room days, he's tried a number of jobs. He marketed a stress-reducing video tape featuring a psychiatrist. He was a manufacturer's rep for a building-supplies firm. He worked at a car dealership, in fleet sales. He did some sports commentary. He worked for a company that made labels, including the labels for Da Vinci, and got to know one of the owners.

These days, sometimes he gets asked about his football days. He doesn't mind. "It's a past I'm proud of," he says. "I worked my butt off to attain a certain level of success."

And often he's reminded that these days in the business world, when you're hustling your product worldwide, your locker-room days don't much matter.

"There is a guy in South Africa who I've been talking to. We want him to be our distributor. After weeks of talking to him on the phone, we happened to talk about professional sports. To him, someone having been a former professional football player has no significance at all."

I asked Thompson if, watching football on TV, he wishes he was still out there in the field.

"I enjoy watching college football, because it's more pure. But, no, I'm beyond that," he said. "You gotta deal with real life."

A few feet away, one of the salesmen was making some calls. Another phone phone was ringing. Thompson's desk was cluttered with paperwork.

That's life after the locker room. But you already knew that, didn't you?