The amount of money Derrick Rose will make because of professional basketball will be in the hundreds of millions. Not tens. Hundreds. He is very young; 26, probably younger than most people reading this. He's also handsome, world-famous, and, aside from his recurring knee issues, in presumably amazing health. Basically, when thinking of the type of person you should feel any type of sympathy for, Derrick Rose does not fit the profile.
But last night, as news of Rose's meniscus tear and upcoming surgery was made public, I felt sad. Not a pervasive, all-encompassing sadness, but the type of sadness felt when something happens and there's nothing left for you to do but shake your head and say "Damn. That's just really fucked up." Because devoting your entire life to being one of the best in the world at something — a something you'll only get to do for maybe, if lucky, 10 to 12 years — actually getting there, and then and having your body repeatedly betray you once you do is just really fucked up. Sad isn't really even the word to describe this. It's more…cruel. I considered putting an analogy here to further articulate how uniquely fucked up this is, but there are none. I can't think of any other examples of an occupation where a series of setbacks in your early 20s can effectively end your career, and where the career-ending setbacks won't elicit much public sympathy because of the rewards of the occupation and because the nature of the occupation commodifies you. He's not a person anymore. He's a depreciating trade asset. A salary cap liability. A bad investment.
And he's aware of all of this. He's also aware of the months of surgery and rehab-related pain ahead of him. Does it make it better that he'll drive to the surgery in a $200,000 car and rehab his knee in a multi-million dollar condo while wearing shoes bearing his name? Sure. Which is even more cruel in a way. It's one thing to be star-crossed. It's another to exist in a world where reminders of your uniquely star-crossed fate permeate and dominate your existence. And this is fucked up.