Aftercare in Football? “Non-existent”
The darker side of the game: identity loss, disorientation, and even tragic outcomes for young players in the years following release
Near the end of every season, thousands of young footballers up and down the country are released from the English football system.
Simply put, 99% don’t make it.
But what happens in the years that follow?
How do players deal with being released?
And who helps them rebuild?
What our participants spoke of in our research, reveals the darker, more sinister side of the beautiful game.
Exiting the bubble
In previous posts, we identified how our participants were somewhere between devastated and relieved when they left full-time football.
Yet interestingly, it didn’t matter where on this spectrum they fell, the experiences that followed were surprisingly similar.
The sudden loss of such a dominant ‘Footballer’ identity – along with their purpose, direction, and social groups they relied on – left our participants exposed and deeply vulnerable. A prolonged state of disorientation set in, lasting years.
We called this the Period of Bewilderment.
And I won’t be the last one to sit in that maybe two-year bubble. Scratching my head going “What the f*ck am I going to do now?
With their careers now over, participants queried who they were without football.
They'd been in the system for years. One participant since age five. Football wasn’t just what they did. It's who they were and how everyone perceived them.
I didn't know what the f*ck I was doing to be honest.
This led to a range of difficult emotions, and some poor ways of coping.
Emotional fallout
I was very down at points, I didn't really show it. But yeah, my sleeping pattern was all over the place.
Sadness, anger, shame, and embarrassment were all also cited in the months and years that followed release. As well as huge guilt for letting down their families.
It was a bit like coming out of a break up. Some grieved. Some felt rejected. Others simply avoided their feelings or hid them. And one participant said he simply ‘dissociated from the trauma.’
Denial was also evident as a few tried to get back into professional football via non-league for a few years – Jamie Vardy style. But to no avail.
Numbing the pain
The familiar routine and structure of full-time football was also gone. For the first time in their lives there was a loss of purpose. A loss of direction. Some felt low. And anxiety was high, as they didn’t know what the future held.
And in response, some turned to self-destructive coping mechanisms.
Alcohol, gambling, and drug use were all listed. One participant admitted he ‘used substances to escape.’
Another participant added:
I started going out, (drinking) alcohol. Just going out with mates and just trying to enjoy yourself. But it almost makes it worse.
No Plan B
Many had thought that ‘football was always my route’ during their career. There was no Plan B.
Participants admitted to actively avoiding alternative career planning whilst playing, fearing it might distract them from their sporting ambitions.
But in the years that followed their release, many felt under skilled and under qualified, having ignored their education. Coaching isn’t for everyone, and many well-paid normal jobs felt out of reach. As one participant bluntly put it:
‘I'm unemployable, that's what was going through my mind. I'm unemployable.’
Painful reminders
During this period, every match on TV was a reminder of what could have been. And the game was impossible to ignore as football still flooded their timelines.
People seemed to never stop asking about football either – unaware that our participants were no longer part of it anymore. And the participants themselves couldn’t help but compare their situations at the time, to what could have been.
Because you look at [former teammate] and they're on 20 grand a week and I’m working in a factory, that will play on your mental health.
From somebody to nobody
Participants also lost much of the status and attention that came with being a footballer. Self-esteem tanked. Confidence took a nosedive.
I’m now just like an average Joe.
The support and connection from their clubs and former teammates quickly dried up too. The drawbridge went up. And agents suddenly lost their ability to respond. Out of sight, out of mind.
Support that never came
This period – months and years after release – was when our participants were at their most vulnerable.
The emotional weight of release, combined with loss of identity, direction, and social group, made them feel lost. Leaving them in a prolonged state of disorientation.
This is the time when they needed help.
But while they transitioned out of the game, Aftercare from their clubs was described as ‘non-existent.’
Nah, no one (from the club) checked up on you.
Instead, participants felt forgotten about. Neglected. Left to pick up the pieces themselves without support. At the time they needed it the most.
This is where you could argue that it's not the club's job to provide ongoing support. In most industries you don't get much other than your P45 in the post.
But football is different. Most industries haven’t had you in a transactional business deal since childhood, heavily weighted in the club’s favour. You sacrifice your childhood, and in return, you're offered less than a 1% chance of achieving your dream. And if you're no longer deemed good enough, you're dropped — with no support.
Tragedy
Beyond our study, countless young players have faced deeply difficult transitions out of the game. For example:
James Aspinall experienced suicidal thoughts after his release from Bolton Wanderers.
Lewis Reed has spoke of having suicidal thoughts during his time at Ipswich Town’s academy, and later ‘fell into depression,’ as he transitioned out of full-time football.
Max Noble experienced depression, anxiety and trauma, in the years following his release from Fulham: ‘It nearly killed me.’
Tragically, at least five young men have died by suicide in the years following release.
Josh Lyons (2013, age 26) – Struggled to recover after being released by Tottenham Hotspur, and later Crawley Town.
Joe Darlington (2019, age 20) – Tragically took his life after multiple long-term injuries ended his dream.
Jeremy Wisten (2020, age 18) – Faced immense difficulty after his release from Manchester City’s academy, and passed a year after.
Matthew Langton (2021, age 20) – Struggled to adjust to life after release from Derby County and Mansfield Town.
Rheiss McLean (2022, age 23) – Released by Mansfield Town; he died four years later following a difficult period away from the game.
Their deaths paint a heartbreaking picture of a system that builds young men up and then discards them with no safety net. Coroners, as well as grieving families, have pointed to a critical lack of support and Aftercare provided by their clubs.
This is not just a series of individual tragedies either. It is evidence of a broader, systemic issue – that continues to place young, vulnerable men at risk. And set them up to fail.
These losses put into perspective just how serious this period is, and the profound difficulties young men face when transitioning out of the game. Often without adequate support.
So why does this ‘Period of Bewilderment’ happen?
At its core, it comes down to identity.
Being released means losing your group membership status as a footballer – the group you identify with and which your sense of self is built on. You’re literally exiled from your tribe, which triggers hurt, confusion, resentment, low self-esteem, and isolation. Fundamentally, its a profound feeling of rejection.
This period was also a consequence of athletic identity foreclosure – where football becomes a players entire identity, to the exclusion of all else. In other words: having all your eggs in one footballing basket. With little or no Plan B.
Clubs often encourage this foreclosure in their quest to make first-team ready players. But the consequences hit hard once a player is released. Because the identity that once helped them navigate through life is suddenly gone. Their map no longer works.
And because they neglected wider opportunities and aspects of themselves, they have minimal other identities to fall back on. No other roles, interests, or wider goals to steady them. No other baskets.
So you're not just changing careers. You’re starting from scratch.
As one participant recognised:
You have to switch who you are, you have to like basically rebuild yourself from the ground up.
Recovery took time
Ultimately, participants needed time to work out who they are, and what they wanted to do next. Rejoin civilian life as such. And when you're starting from scratch, this process can take years.
In our study, we found it took the majority of our participants around two to three years to feel fully back on their feet.
This time frame allowed them to deal with the difficult emotions, join new social groups, and develop skills that set them up for new opportunities. For many, it was also the realisation that they needed to start over and separate from football.
New careers or university helped redefine themselves. Their identities evolved. Interests expanded. Self-esteem grew. Football was no longer the be-all.
And in some cases, a change of location helped, as they got away from the ‘stigma and characteristics’ of being a failed footballer in their local area.
They slowly pieced their lives back together, rebuilding themselves into ‘Ryan’ rather than ‘Ryan, the footballer.’
The need for Aftercare
This vulnerable period after release, highlights an overlooked issue within the game. Clubs spend years shaping young players – demanding full focus on football and encouraging identity foreclosure – only to discard them in the end.
Leaving players exposed and unprepared for life after release.
The burden then falls on the player and their family to pick up the pieces. And without proper support, the consequences can be devastating. Even fatal.
I feel that Aftercare has become a buzzword. But what does it actually mean? And what are clubs doing now?
Steps in the right direction
Since conducting these interviews in 2022, there has been developments:
Crystal Palace became the first club to implement a three-year Aftercare programme, supporting players with new clubs, educational opportunities, or employment.
The Premier League has now also implemented a three-year Aftercare support system for released players between ages 17 to 21, extending to EFL clubs too.
The PFA has also recently launched The After Academy, in collaboration with Trent Alexander-Arnold. Their aim is to provide wider career opportunities for former academy players.
LFE have also begun offering transition support for players leaving the game. And Player Care Officers have significantly increased in numbers over recent years, providing practical and emotional support to players.
This is all progress – something all our participants could have benefitted from if it had existed earlier.
Yet, there is a catch
As said above, our participants didn't get much from their clubs, but crucially, they didn't want it either. They felt it was better to just cut ties.
For some, club-led Aftercare is fine. But for others, it's not an option. The club remains a source of the pain, disappointment, or resentment. It’s too raw. And some may feel it's performative – a box ticker. They’ve also just left a highly competitive system that discourages help seeking behaviour.
I have a feeling that external organisations are best suited to lead the way.
There are already organisations (like The PFA, LFE, and LAPS) and individuals outside of clubs doing great work. They provide enough distance from clubs, as well as (I hope) cater for the unique needs of each individual, rather than a one-size-fits-all approach.
That means ongoing and long-term support, such as access to qualified therapists, mentoring and peer group support, guidance on new careers and university, or support with routes into alternative sporting opportunities.
But clubs should be funding more of this even if they don't directly run them.
At the end of the day, it’s the football clubs that gain from this high-attrition system. It’s worth remembering the few who make it wouldn’t have gotten there without the overwhelming majority who don’t.
Rich Wilkinson – former Stoke City academy player and counsellor – puts it powerfully:
How many deselected players keep football clubs going? Without deselected players, there is no football team.
Football clubs funding proper Aftercare – whether its internal or external – should not be seen as charitable, it's a fair and necessary pay off.
It is also important to recognise something can be done by clubs much earlier.
The case for Pre-care
In the line of thinking that prevention is better than cure – it is also crucial that we look at early intervention within academies.
I’m not here to stop academies from doing their job: to make first-team players, or selling talent on for profit. I get it.
But with more than 99% of academy players not making it, it seems both logical and ethical for clubs to provide holistic development experiences for all their players – ensuring they leave their academy system better off than when they entered. Not vulnerable and unprepared.
A culture shift is needed, that recognises both clubs interests and long-term player needs.
For me, academies have the opportunity to be like finishing schools for life – producing strong, well-rounded individuals with character, self-awareness and direction. The ones that make it are the type of players you’d want in your first-team dressing room. And the ones who don’t make it, leave the game feeling prepared for the future, set up with real skills, education, and experiences, as well as a broad sense of self.
Is it too big an ask to build a system where released players look back on the experience and say: I got something out of that? And parents are pleased they sent their kid to that academy, despite it not working out.
A place where clubs have a lasting positive impact on the individual.
After all, academies already teach resilience, teamwork, and discipline – all highly transferable skills, which should be celebrated and adapted for life beyond football.
We also need practical things like psychological support, interpersonal coaching, financial literacy, life skills, and dual career pathways. Young players also need time for other experiences like wider sports or hobbies, non-sporting friendship groups, and unstructured downtime, without being labelled with ‘bad attitudes’. Allowing kids to be kids. Not professionalising childhood.
All of this would help reduce the chances of athletic identity foreclosure – and allow players to feel like they were part of something meaningful, rather than discarded from something transactional. All could be built into academy life. Without losing any sporting aspirations.
Crucially, early intervention may even reduce the need for such extensive Aftercare, as players would be better equipped to deal with the transition, because they were supported from the start.
In reality, if we don’t change this, we are only asking for problems later down the line. More crises. More bewilderment. More mental health issues. More death. It’s that serious.
Can we prevent this Period of Bewilderment?
Systemic change is not going to happen overnight. But in the short-term, raising awareness of athletic identity foreclosure is essential.
As a kid, I was told how hard it is to ‘make it’ in football, yet I still believed I was destined for the top – just like many of our participants. And the chances are, you know a young player who feels the same way too.
So, parents, player care officers, and coaches alike: just as we train young people to improve their football skills, we must also educate, guide, and support them in broadening their sense of self beyond the game.
And if you're a players reading this – we all hope you're the one to make it, but if you don't – and you choose to focus only on football – a period of confusion, uncertainty, and low mood might be waiting for you. And even if you do ‘make it,’ your career will end one day. So why not branch out and prepare yourself for the inevitable?
Plus, research has found that sportspeople who prepare for life after sport have more success on the pitch anyway. I like win wins, and that feels like one to me.
The dream is still the dream
I appreciate we may never be able to prevent this Period of Bewilderment. There will always be a natural grieving process for anything in life. The dream is the dream and when it's over, it will hurt – no matter how many identities and interests you have to fall back on.
But, can we shorten this period so it lasts weeks to months, rather than months to years?
Can we support our young men through these difficult emotions better? Help them prepare, and create systems that help springboard them from football into something solid.
There are some great coaches and staff members at clubs who already have an eye on this, and Aftercare programmes appear to be moving in this direction.
I would love to hear from you – the reader – with any suggestions on what Aftercare should look like, how change is happening, or any personal stories that relate to Inside the Football Factory.
Email me at: contact@johnnygorman.com
And parents…
I urge you to be vigilant about the academy/club your son is placed in. Are they shaping him as a person or just a footballer? And be mindful not to unintentionally foreclose your son’s identity around football – as some of our participants' parents did.
It’s worth asking yourself – if my son was released tomorrow, what would he want to do next?
If the answer is only football…
Participants' names have been changed to pseudonyms to protect their anonymity.
Quotes are taken from published academic paper and original transcripts.