Brandon Marshall is more than you know

Football is a game played by men.

Men with families, men with complex lives off of the field, men with emotions. Living, breathing human beings, whether or not you want to admit it. Yes, contrary to the convenient general opinion: the National Football League is not made up of really athletic robots.

Many players are examples of dynamic human beings who deserve our respect beyond their athletic ability, but nobody humanizes professional football players quite like New York Jets wide receiver Brandon Marshall.

Marshall, 32, is approaching his 11th season in the NFL. He has been an attention magnet since entering the league, both for his play and his loud personality. Yet the reasons for his popularity have evolved for the better as his time has gone on.

The pivot began on August 1, 2011, as Marshall held a press conference in Miami. Then a wide receiver for the Dolphins, Marshall announced he had officially been diagnosed with borderline personality disorder. The illness causes a person to experience extreme instability and pain. According to the National Institute of Mental Health, it is “a serious mental illness marked by unstable moods, behavior, and relationships.”

Borderline personality disorder brings an overwhelming chaos unto whoever it afflicts, regardless of who that person is outside of his or her disease. It’s been well-documented that Marshall got into trouble in the early years of his career. Marshall has taken full accountability for all of his past actions.

He has not been in trouble once since his medical diagnosis and three-month stay at McLean Hospital in Boston.

Exposing vulnerabilities is scary and risky for anyone, but especially so for someone like Marshall, whose livelihood hinges on the public spotlight. Professional football players, as has been said repeatedly, are expected to exude immortal strength and toughness at all times. But the truth, which Marshall understood then and lives by now, is that vulnerability is our only true currency. This does not make him any weaker a football player, but it does make him exponentially more important.

Marshall’s openness has invited his peers to join him. The Pennsylvania native’s accountability has become infectious to those who come into contact with him. And that standard for accountability in how we treat each other or carry ourselves should not end with the players but rather extend to the fans who so freely scream hurtful and hateful things.

Of course, it’s easy for people to support him and praise him if the Jets are winning. If he has another 1,000-plus receiving yards this season, if he wins his bet with Steelers wide receiver Antonio Brown, he will be adored.

But when he drops a pass or makes a human mistake, when people point to the fact that he has been on four different teams, fans turn quickly.

Fans forget what matters. And so, remember that when he takes that green No. 15 jersey off and re-enters society after the game, this is a man who has chosen to share his heart—his deepest, darkest secrets—with the world in an attempt to live fully and help people.

Marshall has said countless times, “Football is my platform, not my purpose.” He backs that up with his actions. Look no further than his mental health foundation, Project 375, which he co-founded with his wife, Michi. Project 375 bills itself as “passionately dedicated to eradicating the stigma surrounding mental health by raising awareness and improving care for those in need.” Through one of Project 375’s platforms, Real Chats, Marshall has gotten fellow NFL stars Arian Foster and Kyle Long to open up about their own mental and emotional turmoil.

On Monday, Complex’s Sean Sweeney posted a story about Marshall’s new Champs Sports and Under Armour commercial “The Moment” with rapper and friend T.I. Within the story, Marshall is quoted as saying, “It takes time to figure out who you are,” Marshall says. “It takes time to figure out your purpose and why you’re here. It’s never about that destination. It’s about that process. It’s about that journey.”

Within the commercial, T.I. voices over as Marshall’s inner-monologue and says, “I’m too loud. I’m too much of a disruption. The expectations are too much. Am I content? Will they accept me? Am I in control? Do they know the real me? There’s no more playing it safe. No more trying not to be me. Be yourself.”

He’s talking to you. He hears what you say about him. He knows what your preconceived notions are about him and people like him. The things angry fans shout at him from up in the stands or behind computer screens are not without weight. He is not immune. He, and no NFL player, is a robot created specifically and only for your enjoyment.

These words are more than just quotes he gave about and in his newest commercial. It’s a summation of his blueprint for life, and the way he has worked to live by example on and off the field since his diagnosis. In a results-driven business, Marshall is doing his best to remind everyone that our experiences and relationships matter more than a final score.

What Marshall or any other player can do for other people matters exponentially more than what they can do for seven points.

That same mindset, that same perspective, should be exemplified by and expected of all human beings—even NFL fans.