When athletes retire—whether by choice or not—many experience something they never

expected: identity loss. The same thing happens to those who reach the top of the mountain. You

achieve what you always dreamed of… and then feel empty. “Is this it?” you wonder.

Why? Because your identity has been built on performance. On how others see you. On

approval. On society’s scoreboard—likes, rankings, contracts, applause.

I’ve been there.

At the peak of my college career, I was the guy. SportsCenter. Scott Van Pelt. Packed

stadiums. 450 text messages after a USC win. Free meals. Everyone wanted something from me.

And then?

I got cut by the New York Jets after a rough outing against the Eagles. Ten people reached out. Minshew Mania was in full bloom, and I was quickly forgotten. That’s when the teeter totter I had been living on dropped—and hard. 

I wasn’t just dealing with rejection from the league. I was dealing with something deeper. Something that forced me to ask:

If I’m not the quarterback anymore, who am I?

This started my “quarter-life crisis.” Not just rediscovering who I was—but learning for the first time.

Because the truth I’d ignored for so long finally surfaced:

Your sport is what you do—not who you are. 

That doesn’t just apply to athletes. I know my dad went through the same identity crisis after he sold his company and he was no longer the CEO. He battled the same question. Who am I?

Whatever your title is—CEO, athlete, performer, musician—it’s not your identity. Who you are is deeper than any scoreboard, highlight reel or P&L.

Your worth is not earned—it’s given. Inherent. God-given. And no outcome can ever change it.

 That truth is easy to say—but hard to live. And I’ll admit I’ve wrestled with it deeply. I still do. But I’m getting better. And when I remember who I really am—not for what I achieve, but for who I was created to be—the anxiety fades. The pressure lifts. And peace sets in.

So, what roles or titles have you associated with your identity (e.g., “Athlete,” “CEO,” “Top Salesman,” “Captain,” “Entrepreneur”).

Lastly, ask yourself…
If it all got stripped away—
the title, the jersey, the role—
would you still recognize the person underneath?

And would they be enough?