between them would complicate his life. Jaeda, now 8
and his oldest, started first grade in 2018, and because
of school and activities, she couldn’t f ly out to visit as
often as before. Her father won his second DPOY that
season, but it wasn’t only the Rams’ loss to the Patriots
in Super Bowl LIII that left him in a “bad place mentally.”
W hat tugged at him felt bigger, more existential, f illing
him with anxiety and dread.
“When I came home, I just wasn’t myself,” he says.
“If my kids’ situation is not in order, my world is not
in order. Honestly, it has always been about [them].”
Donald leaned on Erica throughout that summer,
talking through his feelings, searching for solutions.
A football force who demolishes triple teams no longer
felt that indestructible. He called Jaeda and A.J. con-
stantly and f lew back east for regular visits, grateful
the Rams made concessions for his schedule, free-
ing up the necessary time. But it wasn’t the same. “If
it wasn’t for [Erica],” he says, “I don’t know where I
would be mentally.”
Until this year, Donald had never taken more thanthree days off after a season. When he bought his par-
ents separate new houses, he refused to let them sell his
childhood home and created a “workout house” instead.
He trained on weekends and holidays, when sick or sad
or tired. His talent made him an elite player. But that
talent, combined with sweat equity and the organiza-
tional skills of a wedding planner, transformed him
into something more. He couldn’t be Aaron Donald if
he didn’t prepare like Aaron Donald. But every minute
spent toiling toward a Super Bowl was another minute
he wasn’t spending with his children.W
HILE REJOICING FOR the better part of a week in
February, Donald didn’t train. Pundits wondered:
Did the break reveal his intention to walk away? McVay
spied Donald in the weight room the following Monday.
Did the clanking signal an impending return?
Most signs point in the same direction, toward another
season. But they were what others saw, not how Donaldhimself felt. Donald pushed his internal conf lict further
out. He met with coaches and teammates to explain his
thought process, the heft of his decision and why he
remained torn. He believed they had been “destined to
win the Super Bowl.” But as much as he loved them, he
loved his children more. He wanted to be honest. And,
honestly, he wasn’t sure.
“I’m truly living my dream,” he told them, meaning
football heaven.
Then why choose to wake up?
Sometimes, whenever he felt like quitting football,
his mind drifted to McVay. Donald vividly recalls their
first meeting, at the Four Seasons in Westlake Village,
shortly after the 2016 season. Executives had summoned
Donald to meet with his new boss, the youngest coach in
NFL history, only 30 years old. Donald spied an unlined
face framed by immaculate hair. “W here the hell is this
dude?” he wondered, mistaking McVay for a subordinate
of some sort. But as McVay laid out his ambitions, point
after point revealed exactly what Donald wanted. “You
hear what you want to hear,” he says, “but you never
know what to really expect.”
Donald didn’t reveal to McVay, or anyone outside of
his family, the conversation he had that summer with
his agent. Both expected the Rams would soon begin
negotiating a contract extension. “I love the organization,but I want to win,” Donald responded. “Let’s hold off.”
The 17–31 record in his first three seasons had started
to impact his on-field mojo. In 2016, Donald paid
$81,000 in fines—for late hits, unnecessary rough-
ness and unsportsmanlike-conduct violations, such
as slamming his helmet onto the turf. He was ejected
from two games. He’s neither proud of that stretch nor
surprised by the mental toll that cost him composure.
“Losing is a miserable thing, man,” he says. “It don’t
matter how much success you have individually. When
you’re losing, the aura around you, your energy, it’s
just different.”
The turning point he searched for came in early 2018,
when the Rams played a postseason game for the first
time since ’05. They lost to the Falcons, but that shift,
from perennial losing team to potential contender,
sparked a renewed energy for Donald. His adrenaline
spiked before kickoff, anticipation elevating until he
26 could hardly breathe. “My wake-up call,” he says.
AARON DONALD“WHEN I CAME HOME, I JUST WASN’T MYSELF,” DONALD SAYS.
“IF MY KIDS’ SITUATION IS NOT IN ORDER,MY WORLD IS NOT IN ORDER.”