I think calling him a slimeball is an overstatement and I also think you might be underestimating the level of trauma Gordon dealt with growing up and how much it still impacts him today.
That said, people have been very gentle in extending him a benefit of the doubt that others have not gotten, and in doing so I think they've illustrated how pedantic our approach to mental health is, and why that's problematic. It's become something that people cite on a whim to exonerate themselves from anti-social behavior and any ensuing implications, which is fine until it begins to feel like a penalty for people who aren't using that justification.
The Gordon thing is the perfect example because the public response is at least slightly different if he had never invoked his mental health in the first place. We're setting a dangerous precedent when we describe one guy who's late to workouts as a sympathetic figure and another as a lazy waste of talent. I know I'm dating myself a decade and things have changed a lot, but check out the things people still say about JaMarcus Russell. Check out the things they say about Kwame Brown. I know neither of these guys were ever remotely as good as Josh Gordon, but our method of determining who fits the punchline label and who doesn't is still very selective at best. I'm not saying there's never a reason to distinguish between grey, but what I think people should understand is that mental health is directly responsible for the performance of every athlete. Anyone who has underachieved, in any part of life, can trace their failures back to mental health.
I don't agree with the notion that a person can never be guilted into improving their mental health. Guilting is very different than shaming because feelings of guilt often derive from a desire to reward the people who have invested the most in you. If Josh Gordon's emotional state has deteriorated to the point that no longer matters, then you can't really blame him. If his situation was still redeemable, then it's worth asking why he couldn't perform to the same standard as his teammates, who presumably will feel his loss immensely. In either scenario, what's clear is that football didn't matter that much to Josh Gordon. He could be suicidal, for all we know, and that statement would still ring true. That's not a judgement so much as it is a fact. If football did matter to him, if his teammates did matter to him, then he would not have failed the drug test. Part of mental health is restoring people to a place where they do feel guilt and they do feel a responsibility towards others.
And, full disclosure, I really rooted for Josh Gordon, and I still am. He was one of the few Patriots I have ever rooted for in recent times. Whether or not he resurfaces in the NFL, I wish him the best. He sounds like a likable guy.
On the other hand, I think some of the righteousness can be filed away for another time. If you're a Patriots fan who cares more about the Patriots than Josh Gordon, that would be kind of natural since you don't know Josh Gordon. I mean, obviously, in a vacuum, a human life is more important than football. The thing is, though, that you have zero control over either. There are thousands if not millions of people like Josh Gordon who suffer from problems that are equivalent or worse every day. The fact that he lasted as long as he did in New England is something of a victory. Let's just not get things confused - we want him to play football, because that's his value to us. The fact that he's not playing football signifies him being on a completely different page than the rest of us, not because he's a bad person, but because we are not good enough for him. And that should sting. If it didn't, what would be the point of wishing him well in recovery?
