In the fast-paced world of professional sports, emotions often run high. Players are fueled by the desire to win at all costs, often at the expense of others. But sometimes, these competitive instincts lead to moments of regret that players have to face head-on. For Houston Texans linebacker Azeez Al-Shaair, that moment came after his controversial hit on Jacksonville Jaguars quarterback Trevor Lawrence, resulting in a three-game suspension from the NFL. While Al-Shaair wasn’t explicitly pressured to issue an apology, he chose to do so anyway—an act that demonstrated his desire to make amends. However, the way he handled the apology reveals just how complicated and difficult it can be for athletes to express genuine remorse in such a high-stakes environment.
It’s not easy to apologize, especially in the world of sports. The culture surrounding athletes is one of toughness, aggression, and competition. In this environment, athletes and coaches are trained to view the opposing team as adversaries, to treat them as obstacles to victory. This mindset is ingrained, so when it comes time to humble oneself and ask for forgiveness, many struggle. This tendency to avoid vulnerability isn’t exclusive to Al-Shaair. It can be seen across the sports world, from coaches to players, where taking responsibility often falls short of sincere apology.
Al-Shaair’s apology, or rather his attempt at one, was a prime example of this struggle. After delivering a brutal hit on Lawrence, who was in a vulnerable position by sliding to avoid the tackle, Al-Shaair had to find a way to explain himself. Rather than simply owning up to the mistake, he felt the need to justify his actions, as if the apology needed a defense. So, he took to his phone’s notes app and wrote a message that was long enough to require two screenshots to share on social media. The result was a statement that included a lengthy defense of his character as a football player who would hit hard but also pray for his opponent’s recovery. While he acknowledged the reaction from the Jaguars’ players who came to Lawrence’s defense, he also lashed out at the reporters who criticized him and the fans who, based on his Arabic name, threw racism into the mix.
While Al-Shaair did apologize to Lawrence, the gesture seemed half-hearted. The apology was buried beneath layers of justifications, with only seven words dedicated to expressing remorse: "To Trevor, I genuinely apologize to you for what ended up happening." The vagueness of the apology—"what ended up happening"—didn’t exactly scream sincerity. It seemed as if Al-Shaair was still grappling with accepting full responsibility for the incident. The intention was there, but the execution was less than ideal.
The fact that Al-Shaair even attempted to issue an apology is a step in the right direction. Still, it's clear that athletes like him—who are trained to be warriors on the field—struggle with the act of humbling themselves off the field. This issue isn’t isolated to Al-Shaair. Other athletes, like Charlotte Hornets star LaMelo Ball, have shown similar difficulty in offering genuine apologies when called out for their actions. When Ball was fined $100,000 for using homophobic language during a postgame interview, his apology felt empty, more like a damage-control statement than a sincere expression of regret. "I really didn’t mean anything by it, and don’t want to offend anybody," Ball said. While the words were polite, they lacked the weight of true contrition. Ball’s apology was more about clearing his name than acknowledging the harm caused by his words.
The reluctance to genuinely apologize is a recurring theme in the world of sports, and it often leads to more harm than good. Just look at Ohio State football coach Ryan Day’s response to the ugly brawl that erupted after his team’s loss to Michigan. Day admitted his team "panicked" during the game, resulting in costly penalties, but when it came to the postgame fight that saw both teams fined $100,000, Day deflected responsibility. Instead of acknowledging the role his team played in escalating the violence, he focused on Michigan’s actions, claiming that his players were simply defending their pride. "I don’t know all the details of it, but I know that [Michigan] guys are looking to put a flag on our field and our guys weren’t going to let that happen," Day said. There was no real apology, just an explanation that shifted blame.
The bottom line is that apologizing in sports—whether for a poorly timed tackle, offensive words, or a postgame brawl—is hard. The art of saying "I’m sorry" seems to have become a lost practice in many corners of the sports world. Apologies can be seen as a sign of weakness, and for athletes who have spent their entire careers learning how to be stronger, faster, and tougher than the competition, admitting fault can feel like a betrayal of their own identity.
But here’s the thing: a good apology doesn’t weaken you. In fact, it strengthens your character. It’s an acknowledgment that no one is perfect and that, despite our best efforts, we can sometimes hurt others, whether intentionally or unintentionally. And the best way to repair the damage is to simply say, “I’m sorry.”
Al-Shaair’s apology, while imperfect, was an attempt to bridge that gap. It showed a glimpse of humility, even if it was buried under layers of self-defense. But moving forward, perhaps athletes like Al-Shaair, Ball, and Day could learn that a simple, sincere apology can go a long way. It’s not about justifying your actions or defending your honor. It’s about acknowledging when you’ve made a mistake, owning up to it, and doing what you can to make it right. This kind of humility doesn’t diminish a player’s strength; it enhances it.
In the world of sports, where competition and pride often take center stage, the ability to apologize with sincerity and without defensiveness is a true sign of maturity. Whether it's Al-Shaair, Day, or any other player or coach, the lesson is the same: the most powerful apology is the one that comes without excuses. The strength to admit when you’re wrong is the truest form of strength.
To wrap it up, it’s clear that the art of apology in sports is more than just a formality—it’s a reflection of the athlete’s character. As we’ve seen with Al-Shaair and others, issuing a heartfelt apology isn’t easy, especially when pride is at stake. But learning to say, “I’m sorry,” and truly meaning it, could make all the difference in how athletes are perceived and, more importantly, how they can grow from their mistakes.
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