"I see myself playing as long as I am partially enjoying the game and partially successful and they are paying me. But honestly, two more years is about all I can take"
About this Quote
Hull’s honesty lands because it’s transactional without being cold: joy, competence, and a paycheck form the three-legged stool of late-career sports. Take any one away and the whole thing collapses. He’s not performing the usual athlete script about “love of the game” or “leaving it all out there.” He’s bargaining in public, admitting that at a certain age the job stops being myth and starts being labor.
The phrasing is doing double duty. “Partially enjoying” is a quiet confession that pure love is gone; what remains is a workable fraction. “Partially successful” lowers the bar from greatness to adequacy, the veteran’s most realistic KPI in a league that worships peak performance. Then he snaps it back to the blunt truth: “and they are paying me.” It’s a wink at fans and a subtle pushback against the moralizing that treats money as an embarrassing side effect rather than the central contract.
The last line is where the mask drops: “two more years is about all I can take.” That’s not bravado, it’s fatigue. It hints at the body tax, the travel grind, the constant evaluation, the way aging in public turns every slump into a referendum. In context, it’s an athlete renegotiating identity: staying isn’t about chasing immortality, it’s about managing decline on his own terms before the sport decides for him.
The phrasing is doing double duty. “Partially enjoying” is a quiet confession that pure love is gone; what remains is a workable fraction. “Partially successful” lowers the bar from greatness to adequacy, the veteran’s most realistic KPI in a league that worships peak performance. Then he snaps it back to the blunt truth: “and they are paying me.” It’s a wink at fans and a subtle pushback against the moralizing that treats money as an embarrassing side effect rather than the central contract.
The last line is where the mask drops: “two more years is about all I can take.” That’s not bravado, it’s fatigue. It hints at the body tax, the travel grind, the constant evaluation, the way aging in public turns every slump into a referendum. In context, it’s an athlete renegotiating identity: staying isn’t about chasing immortality, it’s about managing decline on his own terms before the sport decides for him.
Quote Details
| Topic | Retirement |
|---|---|
| Source | Help us find the source |
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