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NFL kicker's OCD was on display seconds before game-winning kick and it earned him new fans

The kick led to a big win for the Commanders and a big win for the OCD community.

Photo by Anders Krøgh Jørgensen on Unsplash

Zane Gonzalez hasn't had the most glamorous NFL career. Getting drafted in the seventh round by the Cleveland Browns in 2017 was a great start for a well-decorated college kicker, but after a few critical misses led to his release, he's bounced around the league and struggled to stick with any team. That was all set to change, though, as his Washington Commanders (his sixth team in about as many years) recently called on him to make what would be a game-winning, life-changing kick in a playoff game against the Tampa Bay Buccaneers.

To the naked eye, Gonzalez looked extremely nervous as he readied himself for the attempt. The camera showed him fidgeting endlessly with his socks, and then smoothing his hair repeatedly as he walked onto the field. He'd pat it down and place his helmet on, only to remove it, smooth his hair down again, and repeat the process over again. The cameras caught it all, and NFL fans were left wondering: What's going on with Zane Gonzalez?

Moments later, the ball was snapped, Gonzalez made his approach, and BOOM — he nailed the kick, miraculously bouncing it off the upright and through for the game-winning points! It would be the highlight of his NFL career to date, by a wide margin.

People were confused by Gonzalez's hair-smoothing routine. Was he nervous? Or just trying to look his best for the camera?

"Zane Gonzalez needs to take a hit before going on the field," one X user joked. "Dude is in his head."

"How many times did zane gonzalez fix his hair," wrote another. "No wonder he almost missed!" someone added.

The real reason behind Gonzalez's odd pre-kick behavior is much more complicated: He has OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, and has talked openly about it in the past.

The recent playoff game was many people's first introduction to Gonzalez, but anyone who's watched a Commanders game this season is quite familiar with his hair smoothing and sock-fidgeting ways. They're tics — compulsive, repetitive behaviors associated with disorders like OCD or Tourette's, anxiety, stress, etc.

Gonzalez has discussed his OCD with the media before. He says it comes with major challenges, but on the football field, it can become a bit of a superpower.

"It affected me a lot more as a young kid. ... It’s just little thoughts, little funny habits that I do," he said in an interview.

“I’ve done a lot of research on it. Specifically, sometimes I rinse my hands before kicks. ... And I was kind of curious about that. But that’s one of the most common things that people with OCD do. It instantly makes you just feel relieved. I don’t know why, if it’s just a placebo effect. It’s not something I love having. But it just is what it is, and I’ve learned to deal with it.”

Being a kicker in the NFL requires unimaginable precision, and many players rely on routines, rituals, and repetition to be at their best. Gonzalez says that, in that sense, his OCD helps.

"It makes you a perfectionist and more detail oriented," Gonzalez said. "Off the field, it's a pain in the butt."

People with OCD were inspired by Gonzalez's clutch performance.

OCD is one of those therapy words we all misuse. It's common for people to joke about "being OCD" because they're a perfectionist or like things clean.

And that can be one part of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. But in reality it can be a debilitating disorder in the day to day, and can also cause things like intrusive thoughts, paralyzing anxiety, and major fear or dirt or germs.

The fact that Gonzalez has overcome all of that to perform at football's highest levels gained him a ton of respect in the eyes of many.

"As a fellow OCDer, shoutout to Zane for getting it done. Those tics can be a real [pain] sometimes" wrote sports journalist Pete Hailey.

"Shoutout to Zane Gonzalez for sharing his story with OCD. It’s a tough thing to share, but my battles have shaped me into the personal I am today. So I have zero shame or hesitancy in sharing what I’ve battled throughout my life," said sports writer Sean Paul.

It's tough to find positive OCD representation in sports and media. There are a lot of misconceptions about the disorder (again, having OCD rarely has anything to do with being a neat freak!), and beyond that, it's not something that's easy to see with the naked eye. It can be hidden and masked with some effort. Gonzalez's tics and rituals being on full-display in front of a playoff audience of millions of people was a powerful moment that had a huge impact on others in the OCD community. Lucky for all of us, we get to watch him play for at least one more week this season!

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Family

This woman explains the frustration of having to prove her mental illnesses are real.

This story was originally published on The Mighty.

“Huh. Must be a women thing” was said with a dismissive shrug and a grin.  This was my supervisor’s response when I tried to explain how my brain works differently with its multiple anxiety disorders.

The problem was apparently not with my brain chemistry, but with my ovaries. Give me a fainting couch and some smelling salts because here comes the female hysteria.

It wasn’t the first or last time someone dismissed my disorders, though it was the first time someone attributed it to a gender problem.

I’ve been diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD), generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), and panic disorder. They first appeared in my life around the age of 4, and they have been my constant companions ever since.

Unfortunately, because my illnesses are mental, I’ve had to deal with people who think they aren’t real.

I’ve had more conversations than I want to defending the fact that disordered anxiety exists.

“But everybody gets anxious” is the most common refrain. It’s like telling someone with depression that you’ve “been sad, too.” Cell growth happens, and when cell growth becomes disordered, it’s cancer. Nobody argues against that because you can show it on an X-ray or MRI or point to a visible tumor. But there is a certain group of people who believe because they’ve never experienced mental illness and there are no medical tests for it that it couldn’t possibly be real. It’s made­-up, a cry for attention, or just plain weakness.

Image via iStock.

I used to get into long discussions with these people, trying to put them in my shoes and make them see how my brain works. I’ve described vividly the sensations of a panic attack or the deep need to unplug all of my appliances before going to bed because if I don’t an electrical fire will start in the walls and my house will collapse around me while I sleep (obviously). I would endure a painful back-and-forth that invariably ended with them refusing to accept anything other than what they had experienced themselves.

What makes me respond so fiercely to these people is the fact that I used to question the validity of my own experiences — not so much whether I had anxiety, but whether it “counted.”

Because my illness was not physical, I felt as if I didn’t have a right to claim illness or seek treatment or take care of myself. After all, I managed. I survived. I eked out successes in school and life.

But I fought tooth and nail to do so. I fought the obsessions that made me afraid to do anything and the anxiety that left me deeply depressed on more than one occasion. Everything was a struggle in ways it wasn’t for other people.

Eventually, I reached a point where I realized these illnesses were “real enough” for treatment. Their effects were intense and overwhelming, and I deserved to be taken care of. I deserved to name what wracked my mind with fear and even migrated to my body in the way anxiety can.

I can’t see my illness on an X-ray, but it is real and powerful.

After one particularly frustrating conversation about the validity of my illness, I asked myself why I bothered — why I spent so much time and energy to get these people to admit I have these disorders. I realized I was sick of convincing people and sick of their questions making me question myself (yes, I even get anxiety about my anxiety). I don’t owe anybody an explanation.

It was then that I decided my experience is enough; my diagnoses from professionals in the psychiatric field are enough. I won’t lower myself to try to convince strangers, or even friends, that what’s going on in my brain isn’t just a character failing on my part. I’m done debating whether I get to call myself ill and whether I need to be treated.

If someone comes at me with honest curiosity and a desire to learn, I’m open to talking. I’m not ashamed of my disorders, and I think being open about my struggles will help with the stigma of mental illness. But usually if someone questions my disorders, it’s an accusation. Prove it, they’re saying.

I won’t do that again. My word should be proof enough. Among the many things I’m doing to take care of myself, I refuse to argu​e about my disorders anymore. I have no doubt taking those arguments off the table will make me healthier. I finally learned not to question myself. I will no longer allow others to question me either.

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