Deion “Coach Prime” Sanders is speaking openly about his battle with bladder cancer, his unflinching faith in God, and why he never asked, “Why me?” Through pain and surgery, he remains grateful—and unashamed.

Written By Saundra Elliott // EEW Magazine Online

University of Colorado head coach Deion Sanders shares his story of overcoming bladder cancer at a press conference in the Touchdown Club at Folsom Field, Boulder, on July 28, 2025. (Photo by AAron Ontiveroz/The Denver Post)

By any measure, Deion “Coach Prime” Sanders has never been one to hide. Not on the football field, not in the locker room, and certainly not in the pulpit he’s carved out for himself at the University of Colorado. He’s as outspoken about his faith as he was flamboyant as a Hall of Fame defensive back. No apologies, no hedging, no sidestepping the tough stuff.

But this summer, the spotlight found Sanders for a different reason. After months of speculation about his health—rumors fueled by his visible weight loss and well-documented struggles with blood clots—Sanders finally pulled back the curtain. At a press conference that felt more like a revival meeting, he revealed what had really been going on: an aggressive form of bladder cancer, discovered almost by accident during a routine scan for unrelated vascular issues.

He didn’t sugarcoat it. “It was tough,” Sanders said, his trademark cowboy hat and overalls traded in for something rawer, more vulnerable. “That was a fight, but we made it.”

It was a private battle, one Sanders kept even from his sons, Shedeur and Shilo, hoping not to distract them from their own rising NFL ambitions.

His surgeon, Dr. Janet Kukreja of the CU Cancer Center, later confirmed the details in a university news release that Sanders had undergone a radical cystectomy, complete removal of the bladder, in a bid to halt a disease that claims tens of thousands of lives each year. The operation was successful. His oncologist considers him cured. But for Sanders, the real story isn’t about medical miracles or surgical statistics. It’s about what comes after and the faith that carried him through.

Sanders, who turns 58 next month, has endured more than most: 14 surgeries since 2021, two toes amputated, and months spent coaching from a wheelchair. But this? “It’s a whole life change,” he admitted, not shying away from the messier details. “I can’t pee like I used to pee. It’s totally different. I cannot control my bladder. Let’s stop being ashamed of it, and let’s deal with it—let’s deal with it head on.”

*Colorado Buffaloes head coach Deion Sanders on the sidelines during the spring game at Folsom Field in Boulder, April 19, 2025. (Photo: Isaiah J. Downing/Imagn Images)*

For now, “Depends” adult diapers are part of his uniform. Regaining lost weight is a daily grind. Still, Sanders refuses embarrassment or self-pity. “I’m not ashamed,” he told the room, as if daring anyone else to be.

But it was when the conversation turned to faith that Sanders’ voice grew thick, the bravado dropped, and the heart of his message came through. “God is so good; you have no idea,” he said, pausing for a long, heavy moment. “You have no idea how good God has been to me, for me to be here. You have no idea.”

He anticipated the pushback. “Let me add this for all you people that get upset when I start talking about the Lord. I never once through this whole journey said, ‘God, why me?’ because I would have to say, ‘God, why You sit me up here in front of these wonderful people? Why You give me the position of the head football coach of the prestigious university? Why You allow me to father five wonderful kids? Why You give me these relationships with these wonderful people? Why me, Lord, that I have some of the things that I have?’”

It’s a perspective that cuts against the grain. Most people, confronted with pain, loss, or a future rewritten by illness, default to complaint. Why me? Why now? Why this? Sanders flips the script. His gratitude is not performative, and it’s not naïve. It’s rooted in the reality of having seen, time and again, that storms are not the last word.

“Lord, whatever it is that You’re doing, let me know what it is, so I can expedite the process, because I know You’ve got me. I’ve seen You have my back. I’ve seen You there in the midst of storms when nobody knew I was going through hell. I’ve seen You guide me and bring me through. Lord, I would never say why me? But let me know what I need to do so I can help.”

For Sanders, this is not just theology. It’s survival. It’s the stubborn refusal to let suffering turn into bitterness, or gratitude into cliché. His words reflect the perspective of the apostle Paul: “In everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

The truth is, most of us struggle to live that out in the small things, let alone the big ones. Sanders, for all his bravado and bluster, is showing what it looks like to mean it, not because pain is good, but because gratitude is better. Not because he’s immune to fear or frustration, but because he refuses to let them have the last say.

There’s a lesson here, one that goes beyond football, beyond celebrity, beyond even the drama of a cancer diagnosis. It’s about how faith—real faith—is not a shield against suffering but a lens through which to see it. And, if Sanders’ witness is any indication, to walk through it with head held high, giving thanks all the way.

So yes, Deion Sanders will coach this season. He will do it changed, wounded, and healing. But above all, he will do it grateful.

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