This a story that should have been written before now, about thanks that should have been spoken and heard but now never can, about what an extraordinary thing it is to have the capacity to help and how ferociously damn cruel the world can be at times. It is a story, generally, about a man named Trevor Moawad, which is what makes it a sports story, at least in some guise. Hopefully, it will turn out to be more than merely that, but as Trevor once told me, let’s just see how it goes. Moawad is mostly known to sports fans as Russell Wilson’s friend, mental coach, mentor and business partner. When he died at age 48 last month, after a battle with cancer, Wilson devoted a large part of his Seattle Seahawks mid-week availability to pay an emotional tribute to a man who always told him how “the best is ahead.” Moawad worked with Wilson, college football teams including Georgia and Alabama, MLB pitchers, UFC fighters, soccer players, the United States Navy SEAL program, countless other athletes, plus business leaders, authors, media personalities and entrepreneurs such as Maria Shriver and Maria Menounos. And, either formally or informally, a vast number of others whose life he touched in some way. “Everyone he helped, it seemed they always got better,” Wilson said. I’m one of them. The entire sum of my interaction with Moawad was one telephone call, in the fall of 2019. We were connected by a work friend and the topic of the interview was Indianapolis Colts quarterback Andrew Luck, who had come into the National Football League at the same time as Wilson but was now retiring after a string of frustrating injuries. Moawad sympathized with Luck and tried to help the readers understand the mental challenges that led to his decision. What struck me during our talk was Moawad’s ability to handle delicate topics with kindness and perspective. He spoke in a way that made you want to believe him, with clarity and certainty and the kind of language that feels real and not fluffy. His focus was “neutral thinking,” reasoning that if the most harmful thoughts could be rationalized then balance was inevitable, and that the overarching desire to “think positively” could bring stress and pressure in itself. At the time of the interview, I was struggling. My friends didn’t know it because I wasn’t brave enough to tell them, my wife had some idea because she knew me that well, but mostly I was locked in a lonely daily battle with health anxiety. Even though I knew it made no sense and there was no evidence to support it, I would convince myself I had an awful, terminal illnesses and no amount of common sense or medical reassurance could change my mind. It stemmed back, I believe, to five years earlier. In November 2013, my wife Carol gave birth to a baby daughter, Sophia, who came to us 15 weeks prematurely. Sophia’s tiny lungs were not developed enough to support her and she was with us for only 30 hours, a time I would not exchange for anything but which broke our hearts forever. Before we lost Sophia, I considered myself an optimist, figuring things would probably work out for the best because they usually did. Once faced with the reality that they didn’t, I began to question everything. After we spoke about Luck and some of Moawad’s work in sports, I took a deep breath, and asked if I could tell him about my issue. I spelled out what I was going through, how every slight cough, every twitch, every strange taste in my mouth, every mild stomach ache, headache, toothache and bad dream was enough to convince me that something terrible was imminent. And about how humiliating it felt to be unable to quiet the voices in my mind. It got better at certain times and worse at others, particularly after stressful periods at work. When I spoke to Moawad, I was fixating that I had pancreatic cancer, and it was crushing me. I would think about it in bed at night, when I woke in the morning and every few minutes throughout the day. After listening gently, the advice Moawad gave was a little surprising. Instead of trying to tell me to not be silly and to listen to the doctors, he flipped my thinking. What if, he said, I did have what I feared so deeply? How would I live with what time I had left? How would I approach each day? Further to that, what if my thoughts weren’t some intuition that the doctors were missing, but just proof that I loved life so much that I was allowing my fear of it being cut short to consume me? Over 20 minutes of talking about that flew by in a heartbeat. He made me realize I was so fearful of no longer living, that I was starving myself of life. I left the conversation uplifted. Truthfully, I had no idea if it would stick, but I had some perspective to move forward with. And, at last, some hope. “He put so much effort into helping others,” Harry Wilson, Russell’s brother, told me in a telephone conversation last week. “He was able to reach people because every word he said was with complete authenticity. It didn’t matter who you were, he believed in the power of the person.” Harry Wilson is the CEO of Limitless Minds, which he founded with his brother, Moawad and colleague DJ Eidson and which aims, he said, to “give everyone the help Trevor gave Russell.” Others have their own experiences and stories. Shriver, the author, businesswoman and former First Lady of California, told me Moawad helped her see herself as someone whose best days were ahead of them. “He was a kind man, a good man, and someone who really wanted to help others,” Shriver said. “I really admired that about him. He was deeply into helping people, with their mind and attitude and views on life. He didn’t only want to work with elite athletes but he wanted to bring the message and the secrets of the elite to the every day.” Jennifer Connelly, owner of the New York-based public relations firm JConnelly, believes Moawad’s involvement with athletes broadened his capacity to help and heal. “Working in sports made him even better at what he did,” Connelly told me. “He helped great athletes and he also learned from them – and he had the ability to translate those messages into ways that touched people.” There is a lot that goes into a person being able to quell health anxiety, or anything that relates to the human mind. All I know is this; since speaking with Moawad I have very rarely experienced the same feelings. The past couple of years haven’t always been easy, but, knock on wood, I haven’t been struck with such gripping fears about such deadly outcomes. There were many times when I wanted to reach out to Moawad, but I didn’t. I’m still not entirely sure why. Once you’ve had the darkest thoughts, the fear of them returning is real and present and part of me thought thanking him for making me better would be akin to tempting fate of a relapse. How stupid. How ungrateful. I didn’t even know he was sick until I scrolled the sports news on my phone six weeks ago and saw that he was gone. It floored me, but even worse was when Harry Wilson told me that Moawad had been diagnosed with cancer earlier in 2019, meaning that he had the illness that would take his life at the time we spoke – and knew about it. It crushed me then and it does so again every time I think of it. The reality that while suffering from cancer he had to listen to me detailing made up maladies that were nothing more than the product of my imagination. The fact that he could do that, and give such gracious, kind and effective advice? I don’t even know what to say. What kind of extraordinary person is capable of that? “That’s just Trevor,” Harry Wilson added. “His purpose and mission was helping people.” “It made him who he was,” Connelly added. I assumed one day I’d get the chance to tell him how he impacted my life, the way he freed my mind enough to enjoy my family, our son and baby daughter, and to live without all that fear. That chance won’t come and this is the closest I’ll get to it. It’s too late and not enough, but Trevor, from the bottom of my heart, thank you. Here’s what others have said … Mike Locksley, Maryland Football Coach: “Trevor has been an integral part of helping me shape the mental psyche of the Maryland Football family the past two years. He’s been a great advisor & confidant, helping me prepare myself & my team throughout this building process.” Michael Johnson, Olympic Gold Medalist: “His legacy will live on in the athletes, coaches, and people who’s lives he impacted.” Freddy Adu, Former USMNT Member: “He has been there with me from the beginning and taught me so much. He touched so many lives and he will be missed dearly.” |
