As a player, there must be an attraction to spilling the dirt of the NFL’s ruthlessness out onto a social media platform and a dopamine rush in speaking your mind beyond its faux military industrial complex. In fact, anyone who has worked anywhere in their lives imagines the day they will expose the supposed wrongdoings of the corporation or business that cuts their paychecks and walk away from the gasoline-charged explosion twiddling their thumbs, pleasantly full on revenge (you would not believe the stories of injustice I endured as a youth caddying at the local country club, just wait for my book).
Of course, it never quite works that way, does it? This is especially true in the increasingly prevalent situations where NFL players turn away from outside counsel and toward a direct approach that they feel will conjure some combination of sympathy and power when it only does the opposite. Brandon Aiyuk is currently providing an absolute clinic in how to destroy a career, with each subsequent post illustrating an incredible lack of both self awareness and the awareness of what a prospective new team is looking for.
The argument as to whether a player should be represented by an agent or not—Aiyuk had talked about firing his in a previous installment of Instagram theater—is a nuanced one. Some players, by virtue of upbringing or past experiences, have very real and understandable issues in trusting another human being. In certain cases, the idea of parting with even a percentage of one’s earnings to a person who isn’t a blood relative seems incomprehensible. Lamar Jackson walked this fine line but his family code of silence is absolute. The contract he was able to negotiate for himself (or with the assistance of someone aiding the family) was excellent, helping Jackson overcome the optics of a story getting leaked about a family associate/personal trainer guru purporting to be his agent, which was blown out of proportion in order to make his negotiating position less steady.
And yet, what players eternally fail to understand is that the NFL is a business that operates on its own language and code. Aiyuk isn’t just speaking out of turn. He’s showing up at the country club gates with a bullhorn and a blowtorch, expecting table service. Anyone who is filming these clips for Aiyuk or even giving him a tangential thumbs up without snatching his phone and hurling it into the Pacific is contributing to the loss of millions of dollars, and perhaps the opportunity to continue doing something that he is uniquely skilled at. It’s sad, of course, that we cannot all be ourselves completely in the working world. But it’s sadder when we insist on throwing out the rules of engagement, costing us the chance to work in our desired field, period.
Mixed in Aiyuk’s comical insistence that he will never file for reinstatement with the 49ers, which is legitimately the only way to begin the process of playing for another team, before proceeding to discuss how excited he is to play for another organization, and saying all of this after brazenly trashing the quarterback of the only other organization that would appear sympathetic enough to give him a tryout, are probably some very understandable gripes.
I’m sure that if we were to sit across the table from Aiyuk and hear his side of the story we would understand. At the human level, we probably never transcend the idea that someone making $30 million per year cannot possibly have the same level of frustration with his corporation as we do with ours, but it would be a far more sympathetic stance than the one we have now: That Aiyuk looks like a person who needs help.
Aiyuk’s gripes, with the right people around him, could be appropriately summarized, leaked and waged in a legitimate contractual standoff; a war waged on the grounds of which we are all familiar. Most of the time, a player reaching an impasse for a team has a powerful enough figure in his corner to at least unearth some degree of sympathy. Most of the time, a player can at least get a team to move an inch toward their position if they have the right person in their corner.
Instead, Aiyuk has fallen beyond the realm of a player who is noncompliant but worthy of a second look because of outstanding talent and into the realm of Antonio Brown, where a situation becomes something far more toxic and less repairable (here we are talking more about his forced exits from the Steelers and Raiders, not the later exits from the Patriots and Buccaneers after he was known not only for his social media behavior but also credible sexual assault allegations). So, you can spare me the next round of BRANDON AIYUK LANDING SPOTS. I would assume that list is shorter than the ingredient list for Poland Spring.
One day he’ll realize that the choice was his own. And by doing it primarily by himself, he only has one person to blame.
More NFL From Sports Illustrated
Add us as a preferred source on GoogleFollowPublished | Modified 
CONOR ORR
Conor Orr is a Senior Writer for Sports Illustrated with more than 15 years of experience covering the NFL. His work has been cited in Best American Sportswriting and has won a PFWAA award. Prior to Sports Illustrated, he covered both the Giants and Jets for The Star-Ledger. Conor lives in New Jersey with his amazing wife and three children.
Share on FacebookShare on XHome/NFLOriginal Article
