Jake Eldridge spent years doing what he thought he was supposed to do: play the game, keep his head down, and not rock the boat. From the outside, it looked like success. From the inside, it was slowly tearing him apart.
Now 21, Eldridge recently shared his story on YouTube—how being closeted while playing high-level college football didn’t just mess with his head, but with his body too. What he didn’t expect was what came next: a flood of messages from strangers telling him he wasn’t alone, that he mattered, and that choosing himself wasn’t weakness—it was survival.
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Football Was His Whole World—Until It Wasn’t
Jake Eldridge was all in on football. He trained hard, traveled for elite camps, and attended IMG Academy in Florida, a school known for turning teenage athletes into college recruits. He even graduated high school early just to get to the next level faster.
When he committed to Rutgers University as a freshman, everything he’d worked toward seemed to click into place.
But there was always something he wasn’t allowed to bring with him.
Being Closeted Is Exhausting (And It Adds Up)
Eldridge has said he knew he was gay from a young age, but football didn’t leave much room for that part of him. The culture demanded toughness, silence, and emotional control.
“But football became the thing that kind of pushed everything else aside.”
As a college athlete, the pressure only intensified. Rumors about his sexuality started circulating within the team. Friends would come back to the dorms with updates he never wanted to hear.
“My roommate would come home and tell me people were asking if I was gay. My biggest fear wasn’t just people knowing — it was people knowing before I was ready.”
That fear is familiar to a lot of queer people: not the truth itself, but losing control over how and when it comes out.
Supported at Home, Terrified at School
The heartbreaking part? Eldridge wasn’t hiding from everyone. He had already come out to his parents while at IMG Academy, and they were fully supportive.
But inside the football program, he felt like the stakes were different. Coming out didn’t just feel personal—it felt risky. Like it could cost him his scholarship, his position, or the future he’d been promised.
So he stayed quiet. And his body kept absorbing the stress.
When Your Body Finally Says “Enough”
In November of his freshman year, Eldridge was hospitalized for three days. Doctors diagnosed him with ulcerative colitis, an autoimmune disease, and told him stress was likely a major factor.
“It was the stress of being closeted. Going in every day and faking who I am for years on end.”
Looking back, he realized he’d been warning himself for years.
“I’d been saying for years, ‘This is making me sick.’ And then my body finally proved it.”
It’s the kind of realization that hits hard—especially for queer people who’ve learned to power through discomfort instead of listening to it.
Walking Away Wasn’t Giving Up
After his hospitalization, Eldridge was given options: transfer schools or medically retire while keeping his scholarship.
He didn’t hesitate.
“I was done.”
Leaving football wasn’t a dramatic exit. It was a quiet, necessary choice. A moment of finally choosing health over expectation.
Life After Football—and Coming Out on His Terms
Eventually, Eldridge moved to New York City and started rebuilding life outside the sport that once defined him. In 2024, he publicly came out on National Coming Out Day—this time, on his own terms.
His reason for sharing his story now isn’t to scare anyone. It’s to remind people that no dream is worth losing yourself.
When the Internet Shows Up in the Best Way
What happened after he posted his video might be the most moving part.
People of all ages showed up in his comments—young queer athletes, older gay men, people who had lived closeted lives in sports, the military, and beyond.
One comment read:
“Jake, you didn’t waste 19 years because it led you here.”Another simply said:
“We love you.”
That’s what makes Eldridge’s story resonate. It’s not about football. It’s about listening to yourself before your body has to scream for you—and realizing that it really does get better when you stop pretending.



