Su’a Cravens is going on the “exempt/left squad list,” which will give him a month to handle any personal problems and rediscover his passion for football. (Jonathan Newton/The Washington Post)

Columnist

There is no doubt that Su'a Cravens is committed — to quitting. At 22 years old, the talented safety has tried to leave football behind at least three times: once in college and twice in the past 10 months with the Washington Redskins. His promise as a versatile solution to modern offenses is wilting because of unexplained trepidation.

It is easy, not to mention premature, to react harshly and call Cravens every name that the pigskin obsessed considers disparaging. Soft. Unreliable. A bust, already. To love the body-wrecking game of football, you have to be a little flippant — or at least naive — about its harsh realities. Even in this era of enlightenment about the dangers of concussions and how little the NFL cares about its former players, football participants and enthusiasts still revert to unsophisticated tripe to question an athlete's toughness and desire. It is not so simple anymore. When it comes to this sport, simple is unwise and potentially debilitating.

The Cravens situation is especially complicated. On Sunday, news broke of his history of contemplating retirement, including his latest attempt to flee from the game. In the past month, as Cravens has recovered from knee surgery, team officials have tried to talk the second-year player out of quitting. They decided to place Cravens on the "exempt/left squad list," which will give him a month to handle any personal problems and rediscover his passion for football.

[Su’a Cravens stuns Redskins with his plan to retire]

It is a smart and compassionate decision by the franchise, and the compromise came after Cravens met with team president Bruce Allen on Sunday morning. As baffled and frustrated as Washington must be, it is responding with an encouraging level of patience and care. The delicate approach must continue. This is a tricky situation that requires a football team to go against its very nature.

To salvage the career of Cravens — a 2016 second-round pick who has star potential — Washington must abandon pride, machismo and the demand for widespread obsession. What's a football organization without pride, machismo and obsession? A bad one, you might have thought in the past. In this case, it could be redemptive.

For certain, it will be a challenge. In private, teammates already have expressed that, if Cravens returns, he will have to repair his reputation in the locker room. He announced he was retiring in a group text chain with some of his teammates and ended the message with, "Peace out." Some players considered it disrespectful. Some wonder whether they ever will trust Cravens again.

Then there's Coach Jay Gruden and members of his staff. The past month has been deflating for them, listening to Cravens waffle and wondering whether he is equipped to handle adversity. It is unknown whether Cravens has other concerns in his personal life, but injuries have preceded both of his retirement flirtations in Washington.

Last December, when he missed the final three games with a biceps injury, he didn't come to the practice facility for three days, didn't alert anyone of his absence and had to be talked out of quitting. This time, a knee injury left him thinking about giving up the game.

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To football players who rush to return from injury, to those who have amputated fingers and made other rash decisions just get back on the field, Cravens's struggles make no sense. But what if he is dealing with more than injuries? And even if there is not more to the story, what is the crime in a young player struggling to sustain passion for a game after dealing with three significant injuries (biceps, knee, concussion) over the past year?

For most of us, moments of professional hardship are part of life. I love my job. As a 16-year-old Kentuckian, my parents told me I was ready to work part time. I begged the local newspaper, the Paducah Sun, to hire me. For the past 23 years, I have worked in newspapers. It is all I have ever known. It is my identity and my expertise, and it is on the shortlist of greatest things to happen to me. Still, I have wanted to quit — like, seriously, not just out of frustration — about five times over the years. Some people have weekly urges to escape good jobs.

Cravens is in the second season of a four-year contract that would pay him about $4.4 million. He is a bright young man who would not walk away from that kind of money without legitimate concerns about football or problems in his life. The fact that he supposedly isn't made like the old players — or like many of his current teammates — is irrelevant. He should not be ridiculed. He should be treated with sensitivity.

Over the next month, Washington should provide all the support it can to get to the heart of why Cravens has been compelled to quit repeatedly. It should explore whether it is possible for him to stay committed to the sport. If it takes more than a month for Cravens to get to the truth, so be it. The franchise should find a way to extend his leave and resist giving up on a key piece of its future.

Perhaps the process results in Cravens returning and realizing his potential. The victory is clear in that outcome. But let's say Cravens decides to retire anyway, after all the support and consultation. While it would be a disappointing setback for a team desperate to improve its defense, it would be just as important that Washington helped one of its players through a struggle, guided him to clarity and led him to the next phase of life.

Sportswriters would dissect the negatives of drafting a player who quit at age 22. We would point out what went wrong, from incomplete scouting to the risky decision to play Cravens as an undersized inside linebacker his rookie season. But that is just the sports part of it. In truth, these games are full of tales of disintegrating hope. It matters most that this franchise, now known mostly for chaos, sets the example that football culture is no longer indifferent to humanity. There is victory in helping Cravens figure out his life, even if it leads him away from Washington.

The Cravens situation cannot be cast dismissively as more Redskins drama. This is a difficult situation for a confused young man and for a team in scramble mode during his absence. This is no time for resentment, not when Cravens's wildly indecisive actions scream that he needs help.

For more by Jerry Brewer, visit washingtonpost.com/brewer.