If somebody had squeezed Quinn Pitcock's psyche into a cup three years ago, it would have tested positive for "Call of Duty." That's a video-game series, and Pitcock was addicted. Pitcock was one year removed from being a third-round NFL draft choice and far removed from normal social interaction.
"When people get depressed, usually, you know ... drug of choice," Pitcock said. "When I was down, I got consumed in video games. For some reason, that's what made me feel better and kind of block out life. I just got sucked into it.
"I could easily play up to 18 hours a day straight, without even realizing it. Really, almost the time I was off is almost a blur. It's almost like I don't remember. It seems like one day of playing for months."
How long did the blur last?
"Probably almost a year, when I was really bad," Pitcock said. "I would try getting help but I would still relapse."
There he was, a 300-pound NFL lineman, retired from America's favorite game so that he could play games online. He would sometimes eat only one meal a day, without even realizing it, because he was so focused on gaming. This sounds like the ultimate slacker story for the 21st century. It is not. It's much deeper, sadder and finally more inspiring than that.
To the fans at the Lions' Allen Park practice facility Tuesday, Quinn Pitcock looked like just another defensive lineman: No. 95, not yet in pads because free-agent signees aren't allowed to practice yet.
Expectations come with being a 300-pound-plus man in a football uniform. Pitcock was always supposed to hit hardest, speak loudest and cast the longest shadow when he entered a room. The hitting was never a problem for him. The rest was.
He says now that he was a Type B personality trying to fit our Type A archetype. He was an introvert in an extrovert's job, and it triggered depression.
He coped by constructing an artificial society around himself, full of fellow gamers from around the world and nobody else. He could see them online, but he was alone. For 18 hours a day.
"It's a problem," Pitcock said. "Parents are like, 'Oh, my son is a good kid. He's not out partying and drinking. He's home playing video games.' Well, you're having these social interactions in your headset, but you're not really seeing these people."
It was never really about the video games for Pitcock, just as alcoholism is not just about drinking and gambling addiction is not just about poker.
Pitcock, who turns 28 next month, realizes now that he had "depression back, even to high school." He has also been diagnosed with attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder, and people with ADHD are prone to compulsive use of technology. Pitcock was hyper focused on the "Call of Duty" games; he played a few other games, but mostly "Call of Duty."
Even when he realized he had a problem, his ingrained independence made recovery harder -- he wanted to fix everything by himself. Eventually, he got help.
The Type A-loving NFL still doesn't know quite what to make of this Type B person. His NFL team, the Indianapolis Colts, helped Pitcock get treatment. But when he tried to play football again last year, the Colts weren't interested.
"Coach (Jim) Caldwell basically said, 'I talked to the team. We think it is best if maybe you go somewhere and we don't have you as a distraction with the media,'" Pitcock said.
He caught on with Seattle but was cut before last season. He is with the Lions now, well aware of the skepticism. If a player gets arrested for domestic violence, some NFL general manager will eagerly say it was a "mistake." If he admits he is an introvert who has battled depression, well ...
"No one wants to take a second chance on me in this situation," Pitcock said. "I guess in some way, it's newer. Teams don't know how to deal with it. They'd rather not take the chance."
Pitcock said football aggression was never his problem. He loves it. Sometimes he wishes that when he retired from the Colts, somebody would have thrown him in a car and driven him to the team's facility. He wonders if football could have been his salvation.
Pitcock doesn't need football to save him anymore. He just wants a job. During pass-rushing drills this week, he kept biting his nails because he was so anxious to play.
Pitcock's friend Kevin Roberts, fellow addict and the author of the book "Cyber Junkie: Escape the Gaming and Internet Trap," compares video-game addiction to compulsive eating. Roberts, a Bloomfield Hills resident, said that in today's society, a man can't avoid technology any more than he can avoid food. He just has to manage his intake and know what to avoid.
Pitcock owns a smart phone and said he sometimes played the games that came on it, mostly to kill time. But he isn't killing 18 hours a day, and "it's not like I have to have it. I'm not rushing to play."
He is rushing to play football. He will try to earn a roster spot battling a familiar opponent: Lions guard Rob Sims. Pitcock and Sims were teammates at Ohio State and butted heads, literally, hundreds of times in practice.
Sims knows the basic facts of Pitcock's story: third-round pick, retired, video-game addiction and depression, came back. But he knows his friend and remembers those Ohio State practices, and he says "I don't think it's a football issue."
Quinn Pitcock has known that for a long time. Now he has to convince the Lions.
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