Solomon Thomas has never been afraid of tough decisions. On the field, he’s fought through injuries, skepticism, and the kind of expectations that come with being a former top-three NFL Draft pick. Off the field, his battle has been even more intense—balancing the identity of a ferocious defensive lineman with the deeply emotional artist within. Now, Thomas has made perhaps the boldest decision of his career, choosing to step out of the trenches and into the spotlight of Broadway, making his theatrical debut in MJ the Musical shortly after participating in the Dallas Cowboys’ offseason minicamp.
In an exclusive post-rehearsal interview, the 28-year-old lineman made it plain: “I had to pick between theatre and football. And I chose both. At least for now.” It’s a risk that would make most executives in either industry sweat. NFL teams crave commitment. Broadway shows demand total immersion. But for Thomas, the opportunity to explore his late sister’s passion and his own long-hidden creative side was something too powerful to ignore.
To understand how this improbable crossover came to be, you have to go back to Thomas’s childhood. Born in Chicago and raised across different parts of the country, Thomas was always more than just a football kid. While others saw his muscular frame and zeroed in on his athletic gifts, those close to him knew the other Solomon—the one who read poetry, sang around the house, and loved live performance. His late sister, Ella, was the first to suggest he consider theatre. “She told me once that I could play Simba on Broadway,” Thomas said with a bittersweet smile. “She saw that in me before I ever saw it in myself.”
Ella passed away in 2018 after a battle with mental health, a loss that shattered Thomas and fundamentally altered his life’s mission. He became an outspoken advocate for mental health awareness, founding The Defensive Line Foundation with his parents. In his public speeches and media appearances, Thomas’s emotional vulnerability caught many by surprise—here was a 6-foot-3, 280-pound NFL player openly crying, reflecting, and sharing his trauma in the most human way possible. Those moments didn’t diminish his image—they deepened it.
That openness eventually led to an unexpected meeting with a casting director from MJ the Musical, the high-energy Broadway sensation chronicling the life of Michael Jackson. A friend of a friend had seen Thomas’s powerful TED Talk and floated the idea: what if this guy—this NFL player—had something more to give? Thomas agreed to sit in on a workshop. Just one rehearsal, he told himself. He ended up staying for weeks.
“It started as curiosity,” he said. “But then I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time. That thrill, that flow—being completely in the moment. It was like lining up on 3rd and long with the game on the line. Only this time, the pressure came with music.”
Thomas’s role is a supporting one—he’s not portraying Michael Jackson, but he plays a key security figure in MJ’s touring entourage, offering physicality, gravitas, and surprising comedic timing. More importantly, he moves. Thomas had to undergo six weeks of intensive dance training just to meet the baseline requirements for the role, including moonwalk tutorials, groove breakdowns, and vocal projection techniques. He also took acting lessons three nights a week while juggling team meetings and workouts with the Cowboys.
Dallas head coach Mike McCarthy was reportedly “shocked but supportive” when Thomas approached him after minicamp with his plans. The team had just signed him to a one-year deal as a rotational defensive lineman with veteran leadership upside. For most players on the bubble, this would be a distraction. But Thomas has never operated by the normal playbook. “We want guys who can lock in,” McCarthy said, “and if Solomon can do this and still show up prepared, more power to him.”
That preparation was tested early. The musical’s rehearsal schedule was grueling. Thomas would wake at 5:00 a.m. to lift and do position-specific drills on his own, then commute into Manhattan for eight hours of choreography, line readings, and costume fittings. “I’d go from hitting sleds in cleats to tap shoes and makeup. It was wild,” he laughed.
His Broadway debut was met with curiosity, then acclaim. Audiences responded to his charisma, critics praised his stage presence, and perhaps most importantly, fellow cast members embraced him not as a gimmick, but as a genuine artist. “He came in with respect,” said Tony-nominated choreographer Christopher Wheeldon. “He didn’t act like a celebrity. He listened. He learned. And he brought this amazing grounded energy that elevated the whole cast.”
That mutual respect has fueled Thomas’s drive to maintain both careers—for now. He insists he’s still locked in on football and will be present for Cowboys training camp next month. The production has made arrangements to write him out for the latter half of the summer, and Thomas hasn’t ruled out returning to Broadway again in the offseason. But even if this ends up being a one-time experience, he’s already proven that athletes are not one-dimensional.
“I think the world tries to keep us in boxes,” Thomas said. “You’re either a jock or an artist. You’re either tough or you’re soft. But that’s not real. I can cry onstage and then go sack a quarterback. I can wear a helmet and still honor my sister through the arts. This doesn’t make me any less of a football player. If anything, it makes me a better human.”
His teammates, many of whom initially teased him with MJ jokes and moonwalk impressions, have come around. “At first we were like, ‘Bro, you really doing a musical?’” said Cowboys pass rusher Micah Parsons. “But then we saw the clips. And man, he’s killin’ it. I think it’s dope. Shows you can’t limit yourself.”
In a league often obsessed with grind culture and hypermasculinity, Thomas’s foray into theatre may open a door for other players to embrace their creative sides. Already, he’s had younger players reach out asking about acting workshops and music classes. “They see me doing this and realize, ‘Hey, maybe I can write that book, or start that clothing line, or take that dance class.’ We’re allowed to be more.”
That message aligns with a growing trend in professional sports: holistic player development. Teams are increasingly investing in mental health programs, artistic outlets, and off-field enrichment to help athletes live fuller lives. The NFL has even partnered with several arts organizations in recent years to promote storytelling, film, and performance initiatives.
For Thomas, it’s all part of the same mission—to be authentic, to break cycles, to honor his sister, and to stretch the definition of what it means to be an NFL player. “People think I’m risking my reputation,” he said. “But what reputation? I’m a human being first. And if doing this helps me show someone else that it’s okay to chase what lights you up, then that’s the only reputation I care about.”
What comes next is uncertain. Thomas is aware of the stakes. The Cowboys are loaded on the defensive line, and every roster spot is hard-earned. He’s still rehabbing old injuries and fighting for reps. “If it’s my last season, I want to go out with no regrets,” he said. “If it’s not, then I’ll keep balancing both worlds. But either way, I’m proud. I’ve lived a dream I didn’t even know I had.”
Solomon Thomas has never followed the path of least resistance. From his days at Stanford to becoming an advocate for mental health, and now standing under Broadway’s bright lights, his story continues to be one of courage, complexity, and boundless passion. Whether it’s on a stage or in a stadium, he’s rewriting what it means to be a man in sports—one sack and one spotlight at a time.
