The Redskins, and the human motivations of Trent Williams’ holdout

What would it take for Redskins tackle Trent Williams to walk away, and never look back?

“I shot my shot.”

It was unusual for a figure of his status, with his relation to the subject matter at hand, to speak with such finality. But on the issue of Trent Williams‘ mysterious holdout, that was all Washington Redskins running back Adrian Peterson had to say.

The interview was longer, but by that point, the substance had run dry. Peterson and Williams had both been enrolled with the Oklahoma Sooners in 2006. Close friends for over a decade, they had been reunited at Washington. But even Peterson could not bring the blindside blocker back.

Williams’ holdout remains as peculiar as it was when news first broke that Williams would not be attending Redskins minicamp. Back then, it was a simple contract issue, but now, it has morphed into a much more complex situation. For Williams, it could be a resolute stand, based on very human motivations and concerns. And for the Redskins, it could be a road with no way forward but out.

A full picture is still hard to come by, but as the offseason has gone on, pieces of the puzzle have started to file in place. We know that Williams is not merely frustrated with his contract; he’s also fed up with the Redskins medical staff. And we know that his frustration with the medical staff could be so deeply rooted, as to keep him away from the team indefinitely.

Think about it: The team he’s fought, sweat, and bled for, for almost ten years. The team mates he’s battled beside. The environment he’s come to care for. By all accounts, Williams is one of the most tenacious, hungry, and driven players on the team. What could be so powerful, to keep him away from the game he’s always sought to conquer?

Perhaps the answer is in the question. Football is a game. It’s a grand game, but it’s only that. Life persists after the game, and while inside of it, players work to preserve their bodies to the best of their ability, in spite of the constant contact and wear and tear. It is a sacred trust, that a player at least knows the status of his own body, and knows that he is protected, in a sport that can be so unpredictable and unforgiving.

By several accounts, Williams’ sacred trust was broken. Mike Florio of Pro Football Talk wrote earlier in the summer that Williams issues stemmed from the medical staff’s inability to correctly identify a growth on his head. Supposedly, the growth was identified midseason. The staff either failed to refer Williams to an individual qualified to diagnose non-football injuries, or they failed to see the matter through entirely.

Whatever the case, Williams later learned that this growth, which had not been addressed thoroughly when it was initially discovered months earlier, was a tumor. A benign one, at that. But it could have been a life-threatening situation, and Williams felt that the training staff did not handle this precarious issue with his best interests in mind.

With this information, Williams’ complex motivations suddenly become very simple. Would you work for your employer if you had doubts about whether or not this employer cared for your long-term well-being, or if this employer, at the very least, was negligent toward your future health? If Williams couldn’t go to work without having a sense of security in regards to his health, then perhaps he felt it best to force a change in employment. If you didn’t feel safe working somewhere, would you still work there?

We’ve seen it in other cases. Colt McCoy was supposedly rushed back from his broken leg, in hopes of being part of the quarterback competition in 2019, and now, there’s talk that he may not even be ready for Week 2 of the regular season. Su’a Cravens brought to light a similar disconnect between player and staff in a recent statement, calling back to his medical saga with the team, a saga that eventually ended in Cravens being dealt to the Broncos.

There is a pervasive disconnect between the Redskins player and the Redskins medical staff. The player, who trusts that the staff ensures their safety, and the staff, whose job it is to preserve that safety, and by extension, the sacred trust. The violation of that sacred trust, as it turns out, is enough to turn a devoted warrior from his outfit. It’s enough to take money out of the equation. And it makes even the words of a close friend, and the pleas of a team and a city, relentlessly mute.