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Life After NBA Doesn’t Have to Be an Identity Crisis for Retired Players
- Updated: November 21, 2016
The summer of 2015 was a summer of renaissance for Luke Ridnour.
Ordinarily, the veteran point guard’s offseason days would revolve around intense workouts designed to get ready for the next season. Early-morning sessions in the weight room; getting up shots in the afternoon; physical therapy appointments. As he got older, he stopped playing full-court pickup games in the summer, opting to do one-on-one drills with a sparring partner instead.
But after completing his 12th NBA season, where he averaged a career-low 4.0 points and 2.0 assists per game for the Orlando Magic, Ridnour decided to hang it up—a move he had been quietly planning for the past year.
True to his low-key nature, Ridnour didn’t officially announce his retirement that summer. So what should have been an offseason nightmare—he was traded four times in a six-day span—didn’t even cause Ridnour to bat an eye.
“Once that started happening that summer, it was just kind of comical because I knew I was going to retire,” said Ridnour, 35. “I kind of let it just play out (laughs).”
That kind of indifference and detachment felt refreshing to Ridnour. Like all offseasons, he spent it in his home in Seattle (he played his first five seasons with the Sonics). Only this time, he was predominantly hanging out with his wife, Kate, and their four young boys. For fun, he would play tennis, golf and ride his bike.
Athletes are creatures of habit. And that summer, for the first time in 25 years of playing organized basketball year-round, Ridnour broke his routine.
“I didn’t even pick up a ball.”
The NBA life can be somewhat of an illusion. The rock-star element of mansions, yachts and partying (see: J.R. Smith) certainly exists. But somewhere between those eight-figure contracts and the perceived HBO Ballers lifestyle is an asterisk. Like any grueling job in the corporate world, the NBA can also be a redundant cycle dominated by defined schedules, mundane tasks and self-imposed routines.
During the season, players navigate through the day-to-day schedule like clockwork. Whether it is a practice, shootaround, plane ride, pregame bus, strength and conditioning session, public appearance or mandatory media availability, there is always a team representative to tell them where to go and what time to be there.
Athletes also create their own routines based on comfort or superstition. Some players take naps before games, some eat the same pregame meals and some get massages. Roughly 90 minutes before tipoff, Stephen Curry does the same sideline dribbling drill as part of his personal pregame warm-up. And Dennis Rodman used to ride a stationary bike in the locker room after every game.
“My body was used to the NBA schedule,” said DeShawn Stevenson, 35, who played 13 seasons in the league. “I was doing it since I was 18, coming out of high school. But I took it further, going to practice early and staying late. I think that’s how I stayed in the NBA so long not being a superstar, was just grinding and sticking to my routine.”
In the offseason, a player determines his best way to stay in shape. Some play in local pro-ams, while others train at their team’s practice facility. For Chris Duhon, a defensive point guard who played for four teams (Bulls, Knicks, Magic, Lakers) in nine seasons, his summer routine for his last few seasons in the NBA consisted of private workouts in Santa Barbara, California.
“Your first couple of years in the league, you try to figure out what works for you,” said Duhon, 34. “After a while, you kind of do your own thing. I worked out on my own for six weeks until I reported to the team in September.”
After the 2012-13 season, the Lakers waived Duhon. At the time, he was unsure whether or not to retire. He spent that first summer at his home in Orlando with his wife, Andrea, preparing for the birth of his twins. Although he skipped Santa Barbara, he still stayed in shape, sticking to a regular workout routine.
“At the end of the day, we are still creatures of habit; that doesn’t change overnight,” said Duhon. “And obviously with a few new additions, you change accordingly to whatever is needed.”
Although family life kept him busy, Duhon said that retired players can struggle without that familiar structure—especially when the season rolls around.
“It’s a tough transition from having a routine to where you’re like, ‘Oh good, I can sleep ‘til noon, I don’t have anything to do,’” said Duhon. “But that gets old. Your body is used to being active and having something scheduled, and when all of a sudden you don’t have that, it can be difficult to handle.”
When the NBA no longer gave DeShawn Stevenson a schedule to follow, he decided to make one himself.
He wakes up each weekday at 5:30 a.m. After making breakfast and shuttling his kids off to school, he runs eight to 10 miles before heading off to work by 11 a.m. Nowadays, work is at Playoffs Barber Shop, his brand new business venture in Orlando that he opened in October.
His vision of opening a basketball-themed barbershop originated in his final year in the NBA, as a member of the Hawks during the 2012-13 season. Stevenson didn’t want to be a partner in somebody else’s business. If he was going to invest capital, he wanted to be hands-on. During the day, he vacuums, orders supplies, oversees the books and the part he enjoys the most, the marketing and branding.
Playoffs Barber Shop has hardwood floors that mirror an NBA court. The logo is clearly modeled after the NBA playoffs logo. Flat-screen TVs everywhere are locked on ESPN or NBA TV. There are several reminders of Stevenson’s past life in the space, including a photo of him guarding Michael Jordan when he was a member of the Jazz and a life-size cardboard cutout of him as a Wizard.
“My goal is to franchise, that’s why I did it,” said Stevenson, who the Jazz drafted out of Washington Union High School (Fresno, California) in 2000. “You can see from the logo, it has franchise all over it. Mine has my memorabilia. If another NBA player franchises it in their own cities, they can put in their memorabilia. I can …
