Fears in a Baseball Marriage

In my ongoing search to make sure my marriage doesn't disintegrate into fine dust particles the moment I retire from baseball, I recently spoke with certified life coach Diana McNab last night. She's got some great experience in understanding pro sports marriages. 

Her first husband (yes, she's a divorcee) was Peter McNab, a former NHL star and currently TV guy for the New Jersey Devils. Her second husband is/was (yes, No. 2 hasn't worked out either) Larry Mahan, a former professional rodeo champion. And Diana herself was a member of the Canadian National Ski Team for eight years, so she's been on both sides: The athlete and the wife. 

Our interview will be made available by the first week of January for you to hear. 

There's an important point she brought up that I'd like to reflect upon, the issue being fear in today's pro sports marriage. As a civilian, you believe that millionaires have it made. "You earned $10 million last year. Don't complain." 

The thing is, the money, and the opportunity at this level to make it, can create more problems. The wife lives in fear. The husband, who in most cases is the pro athlete, lives in fear. Two people share a marriage, yet they're both scared to death.

His fears are that he could get hurt and never play again; never get the chance to be the No. 1 guy, like he's always been, or earn the money he always expected to make. 

His fear is that one day, all this will be gone. The career, the cheers, the excitement...  And then what?  What can take the place of the adrenaline rush of running onto the field on opening day to 55,000 screaming fans? What can take the place of the travel and the camaraderie? What will take the place of the salary? A $125,000 a year gig with ESPN?

Her fears are similar. What if he gets hurt? How's he going to treat me when he comes home after striking out three times and hearing the boos and the curses? What if he doesn't do well and his career ends right away? What will he do when his career is over? How will we adjust to living with each other every day, 365 days a year, something we've never, ever done? How can I take the place of what's eventually going to be taken away from him—his identity as a professional athlete?

I'm sure you're still thinking, "I wish I had those problems with a $10 million bank account." 

Hey, a $10 million bank account certainly helps. But do you seriously think that the money makes all of the fear go away? 

Remember when you were a kid and you couldn't wait to get your drivers license?  You thought, "When I get that, I'm going to be The Man. I'm going to be somebody. It's going to change my life forever." 

So you got it and it was really exciting. You didn't have to steal Mom & Dad's care any more when they were out and drive downtown illegally (instead of riding your bike) to get a haircut . You didn't have to have your older friend pick you up, or God forbid, one of you parents valet you to and from the mall.  It was awesome. Wasn't it? But what happened after a few months? You fell into a routine. 

You got used to it.

And you were changed forever. The drivers license was no longer such a big deal. It was something you eventually took for granted because it was there.

Same with the money in a big-time sports marriage. The couple can get used to it. They don't have to talk about it all the time or dream about it all the time because it's there. 

And if they're used to it, suddenly, they're just regular people. Maybe their house is bigger and they have a lot of nice cars and they don't have to worry about how to pay for their kids' college.

But they still have the problems of everyday people. Their kids get sick. They get sick.  They have arguments, disagreements. They don't get along with in-laws. He might get traded any day and they'll have to move. Where would she (she'd do the move, not him) settle the family in the new city?

How can she make sure the neighborhood and schools are good for the kids? What if the kids don't want to move?  What if they're sick of it? 

What if some groupie gets to my husband? A groupie who's 10 years younger than me and offers one night of no-strings-attached fun? What if I'm no fun anymore? 

And beyond today, what about the worries for the future. The couple's future together.  Because he's on the road 6 months of the year. And she runs the house. How can she replace that six months when he's home forever? She might not be able to.

Did you know some statistics (not actually verified) state 80 percent to 90 percent of professional sports marriages fail after the athlete retires? That's eight out of 10.  Imagine if, in your apartment building or on your block, eight out of 10 families broke up.  That's a lot of devastation. And a whole lot of fear.

How does a couple, a family, combat the fear?  That's where someone like Diana McNab comes in. She helps them. She has them fly up to her ranch in Aspen (yes, the money is good sometimes, I admit it) and work things out. Not in a room. Not on a couch. On a horse. On a hike. In the mountains. Away from life. Away from pressure.

Away from the fear.

Take a look at Diana's website. She helps professional athletes. She was instrumental, along with Gena Pitts, another wife of a former professional athlete—former NFL star Mike Pitts, in creating the Professional Sports Wives Association. Diana consults and writes for Professional Sports Wives Magazine. She's in this for the long haul. Just like most couples should be when they get married.  Because there's more to a baseball marriage than money. There's the fear it will one day go away.