What happens when the stereotype of the NFL player—tough, strong, impenetrable—cracks? When bodies trained for collision, force, and victory slow down for a moment, open up, and start talking about pain, vulnerability, and the role psychedelics play in life off the field?
That was the story shared by three NFL players—Jordan Poyer of the Buffalo Bills, Robert Gallery, formerly of the Raiders, and Jon Feliciano of the San Francisco 49ers—during a panel at the massive Psychedelic Science conference titled “Healing Behind the Highlights,” held in Denver, Colorado, a few months ago. And they spoke candidly about their experiences.
Moderated by Aubrey Marcus, the conversation set out to explore how certain psychedelic experiences impact the lives and health of NFL players, without filters, touching on topics many wouldn’t expect to hear discussed in this context: identity, relationships, trauma, healing, and more.
The impact you don’t see: Hits, concussions, and brain damage
Professional football is one of the most physically demanding sports in existence, especially to the brain. Every play combines speed, mass, and violent contact, inevitably leading to injuries, often repeated, that can result in serious brain damage.
While figures vary depending on the source, scientific analyses report 692 concussions in the NFL between 2019 and 2023, underscoring just how common this type of trauma is among players.
The range of damage caused by repeated impacts is broad. Beyond acute concussions, there is a condition that deeply concerns researchers and players’ families alike: chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE). This neurodegenerative disease, associated with repeated head impacts, has historically been identified primarily through autopsy. Still, scientific evidence has advanced enough to confirm that repeated blows to the head are linked to long-term cognitive and behavioral problems.
This is more than theory. Researchers have studied more than 1,000 donated brains and found clear links between repeated impacts and neurological changes affecting memory, mood, and decision-making.
Why psychedelics?
At the intersection of science, culture, and personal experience, some players are exploring alternatives that go beyond conventional pharmaceuticals or physical therapy.
For Poyer, Feliciano, and Gallery, the panel became an invitation to talk about identity, mind-body connection, family relationships, alcohol use, and life after football. What ultimately connected all three was the use of psychedelics—such as ayahuasca—as tools to explore internal territory that conventional medicine still struggles to fully explain or address.
One influential figure in this movement, though not present at the panel, is Aaron Rodgers. The quarterback has spoken publicly about how ayahuasca experiences “changed his life.” He has said they helped his performance during key moments of his career and has even advocated for the decriminalization of psychedelics, statements that sparked controversy and widespread debate across sports media.
What does the science say?
While cultural narratives around athletes, spirituality, healing, and self-discovery are gaining momentum, scientific evidence regarding psychedelics and traumatic brain injury remains preliminary.
Promising animal research suggests that compounds such as psilocybin and DMT may promote neuroplasticity—new neural connections—and reduce inflammation, which could theoretically benefit brains exposed to repeated trauma.
However, experts caution that there is no clear evidence in humans yet, at least not from large-scale clinical trials or robust neuroimaging studies.
One key challenge in this research is separating the effects of the chemical compounds themselves from the effects of ritual and context, ceremonial environments, participant expectations, and guided support. Some scientists argue that the ritual experience may amplify—or even explain—a significant portion of the perceived benefits.
Other athletes, other substances: Beyond the NFL
NFL player Adrian Colbert has said that an ayahuasca retreat in Costa Rica with Rodgers and Poyer “changed his life,” marking a turning point in how he related to anger and self-image.
Meanwhile, public figures like Kyle Turley, a former NFL player, have sparked discussion around the use of cannabis to treat neurological issues after retirement. This shows that the search for alternative therapies among athletes isn’t limited to a single substance or approach.
And while the focus here is on the NFL, psychedelic use has also surfaced in other sports—hockey, mixed martial arts, and surfing, among them—where athletes have spoken about how these experiences helped them cope with chronic pain, anxiety, or major career transitions.
The conversation that unfolded in Denver wasn’t just about psychedelics, or even football. It was about the vulnerability that exists beneath the helmet and muscle. When elite athletes speak openly about emotions, identity, and unconventional tools for healing, it signals a deeper cultural shift.
Science still can’t say these substances “heal” brain damage. But what it does show is that research is expanding, cultural acceptance is shifting, and the boundaries between medicine, spirituality, and self-knowledge are becoming increasingly blurred.
