ICYMI:

Inside this piece:

• Why Carnell Tate is exactly what the Titans need.

• Howie Roseman plays a different game. Again.

• The Patriot Way!

• Another smart draft in… Cleveland?

• Caleb Downs → Dallas.

Share

Subscribe now

Cameras panned into the Tennessee Titans draft room. Somewhere in the back, you could see Brian Daboll. The team’s new offensive coordinator wasn’t front and center as his team’s No. 4 overall selection neared. In that exact moment, you couldn’t help but wonder what curse words were cycling through his mind. Arizona had just selected running back Jeremiyah Love.

Surely, the rebuilding Titans would take a defensive player at No. 5.

Then, the name dropped.

Carnell Tate. Wide receiver. Ohio State.

Love this pick for a Titans team on the hunt for relevancy. And not only because an angel gets its wings every time mock drafts are burnt to smithereens.

If you had the misfortune of watching the Titans through the 2025 season, I apologize. It was a harrowing experience. Out is Brian Callahan. In is Robert Saleh.

This season’s all about figuring out whether or not 2025 No. 1 pick Cam Ward is the future.

Love would’ve unquestionably helped on that quest, but Tate is the next-best consolation. All 11th hour nitpicking of the Buckeyes wideout felt like paralysis by analysis. Turn on any Ohio State game and you see a 6-foot-2, 222-pound weapon who makes everything look easy. His routes are poetic. Not rigid, not labored. With subtle cuts up field, Tate routinely wasted DBs. The definition of football speed. “I saw him run by this guy, I saw him run by that guy,” one scout told Bob McGinn. “He runs by whoever he needs to get past.” It’s rare that a 20-year-old looks this polished.

His hands are smooth. He doesn’t fight the ball. Tate high-pointed acrobatic catches in traffic.

Watching Tate get separation at the top of routes reminded me of covering a young Davante Adams in Wisconsin. There’s a timely burst a stopwatch fails to capture.

Ohio State is a wide receiver factory, too. Brian Hartline’s work with everyone who’s passed through Columbus helped get him the head job at South Florida.

In theory, Ward now has a true weapon to grow with in Daboll’s offense.

“He’s a bigger, vertical guy,” Titans GM Mike Borgonzki said. “The route running is very efficient. I thought he had exceptional ball skills to be able to track the football, his catch radius, downfield. He’s going to be a great fit in this offense. Tate has the ability to play big downfield. All these contested catches downfield. His ability to go up and catch the football, contort his body in certain ways, I think is going to be great for Cam.”

Borgonzki referenced that “burst” deep. He sees it off the line of scrimmage, too.

Explosion is sorely needed in Nashville.

Passing on a defensive player at No. 4 overall makes more sense the closer you look at Saleh’s track record, too. In San Francisco, he made a habit of getting production out of players drafted beyond the first round. Fred Warner, perhaps the best linebacker in the NFL, was the 70th overall pick. Linebacker Dre Greenlaw went No. 148. Cornerback Deommodore Lenoir (No. 172) and safety Talanoa Hufanga (No. 180) both were fifth-rounders. Azeez Al-Shaair shared his wild undrafted story with us last season. One preseason hit with the 49ers changed his life. Saleh saw a special something inside of Al-Shaair.

Hell, recognizing anyone on the 49ers’ defense last season was a challenge. Ninety percent of coaches fail miserably with that injury-ravaged group. San Francisco was one win from the No. 1 seed.

Saleh did not see a need to use top-5 capital on a defensive player. He even got to work on that defense at the tail end of the first round, trading back in for Auburn edge rusher Keldric Faulk, one of the youngest players in the draft. Borgonzki sees shades of Arik Armstead.

Tennessee has a long way to go to brawl with the three teams in its own division, but I wouldn’t bet against Saleh ensuring AFC South games are bloodbaths. Closer you look, it’s obvious he got a raw deal in New York. He’ll have no problems fixing this defense as draft classes stack up.

Ward, Tate, Daboll, even free-agent add Wan’Dale Robinson now supply tangible hope on offense.

In college, Tate was the No. 2 receiving option. In the pros, he’ll be the No. 1. That’s uncommon. Tate also admits he had no idea he could go this early in the draft.

But he doesn’t lack confidence. Nor should he.

“I bring any and everything to the table. I’m a complete receiver. I do it all.”

Howie does it again

Pittsburgh broke the all-time record for single-day attendance at the NFL draft on Thursday night, per Adam Schefter. A reported 320,000 fans descended upon the Steel City. The city was rocking when it was time for the Steelers to make their selection at No. 21 overall, too.

Terrible Towels took over the crowd. “Renegade” blared. Legends past were all on-hand.

If only those Steelers fans knew what was happening behind the scenes. As revealed after the fact, Steelers GM Omar Khan was on the phone with Makai Lemon when the Philadelphia Eagles called to inform the wide receiver they had traded ahead of Pittsburgh — at No. 20 — to select him. A wild scene in the green room.

The Steelers settled for Arizona State tackle Max Iheanachor. Born in Nigeria, Iheanachor moved to Compton, Calif., at 13 and played football for the first time in 2022 in junior college. He’s a project. He was not Khan’s first choice.

Howie Roseman, the Eagles GM, got the last laugh. Every year, we see general managers freak out and give up too much capital to get their guy. Roseman’s been with the Eagles since 2000. He has a feel for what’s real, what’s smoke and always know when to snake his way up the board. Since January, all we’ve heard is that this is the year to trade down. Roseman wisely defies convention. On draft day, he often waits for a talented player to slide… slide a little more… and pounces.

In ‘21, he traded with the Cowboys to land DeVonta Smith. In ‘26, he traded the Cowboys the 114th and 137th picks to slide up from No. 23 to No. 20 for Lemon. Clearly, it was worth it.

I also like the strategy of aggressively chasing one of the three best wideouts in the draft. There’s a noticeable drop-off after Tate, Jordyn Tyson and Lemon. Maybe Lemon isn’t the prototypical “X.” Philly is still positioned nicely for life after A.J. Brown.

Here’s their weaponry around Jalen Hurts:

• RB Saquon Barkley

• WR DeVonta Smith

• WR Makai Lemon

• WR Dontayvion Wicks

• WR Hollywood Brown

• TE Dallas Goedert

There’s no excuses for the team’s highly compensated (and maligned) franchise guy. Hurts must start throwing the football over the middle of the field with receivers who specialize in precisely that.

There are scouts who see Amon-Ra St. Brown-like scrappiness to USC’s Lemon.

Three years ago, there wasn’t much hype around the wide receiver class, either. Nobody was even taken until the 20th pick. Jaxson Smith-Njigba is now the richest receiver in the game. Zay Flowers and Jordan Addison have panned out. With one trade, Roseman made sure he got himself into a similar sweet spot of the draft.

The key? Not passing on Justin Jefferson for Jalen Reagor. That decision surely weighs on Roseman’s mind.

The Patriot Way

In another universe with another owner, the New England Patriots could punish Mike Vrabel. This whole thing only gets grosser. Three weeks ago, the head coach thought he could swiftly make this all disappear by dismissing photos with Dianna Russini as “laughable.” So much for that. This smugness might’ve been what compelled someone else to bring a new round of photos to light with the New York Posts’ "Page Six releasing new pics of the two kissing at a NYC bar on Thursday. Apparently this extramarital affair has lingered on for at least six years, right through the birth of her children and Vrabel moving from Tennessee to Cleveland to Foxborough.

Scummy cheaters are nothing new in pro sports, but there’s a shocking level of brazenness to what Vrabel and Russini carried out. Both had the audacity to insist we ignore our lying eyes. Never mind the fact that they were interlocking fingers… at a $2,160/night, two-person bungalow… two hours from the owners meeting. (Addressed last week here.) Russini resigned from her (extremely lucrative) position at The Athletic. Her career as a reporter appears over.

So, what about Vrabel? While this is not apples to apples, you cannot help but wonder how he benefitted from this arrangement. Speaking of those Eagles, there sure was a lot of A.J. Brown reporting from The Athletic’s top NFL investigator last season, reporting that figured to benefit New England. I cannot imagine Roseman is thrilled with this week’s developments.

Then, there’s the issue of his own team. First came indignant defiance, the belittling of anyone who’d take those Sedona photos seriously. This week, we saw a somber, guilt-filled Vrabel tell us that he addressed the matter with the team.

Next, a midnight report indicated he’s going to miss Day 3 of the draft to seek “counseling.”

Right on cue, the next day, the second round of photos drop and Vrabel decided to hold another press conference. Words were spoken. Substance, however, was not in short supply. He claimed the initial “laughable” comment was meant to protect his family and didn’t provide a coherent answer as to why Saturday was best for a therapy session. Apparently it’s Family First… just not Rounds 1 through 3. Football is most important on those days. Asked if he’d need to step away from future football obligations, he left the door open.

However you slice this, Vrabel’s credibility takes a colossal hit. Affairs unfortunately happen in the world. But this was an NFL head coach parading around out in the open — humiliating his family — while harping on the virtues of faith. There will be players who no longer take him seriously. I’m mildly surprised he wasn’t encouraged to take a leave of absence this offseason and let Josh McDaniels run the team until further notice.

Maybe that’s because his boss cannot take a moral high ground.

These Patriots are owned by a billionaire who enjoyed the happy ending heard ‘round the world.

New England has won more than any team this century. This is also the franchise of Orchids of Asia and Spygate and Deflategate and Aaron Hernandez. If there’s something football to take away from this all, it’s the lack of a moral compass from this franchise as a whole. Vrabel did phenomenal work with these Patriots, as documented. This team was in a bad, bad place post-Belichick. But all of this cheating, lying and public conceit leaves a permanent stain.

No Huddle

• Caleb Downs fell to the 12th overall pick. He’s a safety. He also may go down as one of Jerry Jones’ finest draft picks ever. Hard to see the Buckeye DB failing. DC Christian Parker will find ways to weaponize him.

• Miami’s starting from scratch and it makes sense to select a left tackle to protect Malik Willis. Still, I was surprised to see new coach Jeff Hafley take Alabama’s Kadyn Proctor. Several scouts around the NFL question his passion, a red flag for a coach who says he wants players that sincerely love this sport. (One scout to McGinn: “Had the transfer portal issue where he kind of quit on the team and was going back to Iowa and then he came crawling back and his teammates accepted him.”)

• Rueben Bain Jr. fell to No. 15 overall. He was dominant at Miami with 9.5 sacks and 15.5 TFLs. His style of play blends well with the longer Al-Quadin Muhammad. Both are violent. Both give Todd Bowles’ sagging pass rush some bite. Credit to Real Football co-host Jim Monos for hinting at a Bain slide. He’s a historical outlier. Teams pass on edge rushers with short arms for a reason — the NFL is a totally different game.

• The Buffalo Bills traded back three times. After dealing a second-rounder for DJ Moore, they wanted to recoup picks. Prediction here is that Brandon Beane and Joe Brady find one of those space-eating nose tackles for Jim Leonhard’s defense. Two are still on the board: Ohio State’s Kayden McDonald and Georgia’s Christen Miller. More intel here.

• Love the NFL cutting back the time to pick. Eight minutes is perfect. Keep this thing moving.

• Shedeur Sanders? Deshaun Watson? Spergon Wynn? No clue who ends up starting the most games for the Cleveland Browns at quarterback. It’s an evergreen concern. But after refueling the roster with a ton of young talent last spring (DT Mason Graham, LB Carson Schwesinger, RB Quinshon Judkins, TE Harold Fannin Jr.), they’re off to another promising start. The Browns were able to trade down — as widely speculated — and still get Utah tackle Spencer Fano. At No. 24, they then added explosive KC Concepcion. Going offensive line, then wide receiver was a smart order of operations for this team. At this point last year, guilty as charged. I thought passing on Travis Hunter would be a mistake. That take is starting to look dead wrong as Cleveland meticulously reloads. It’s nothing flashy. They’ve got some underrated personnel men who know what they’re looking for. (Now, about that QB…)

Share Go Long

Give a gift subscription

New here? Join our community today:

Subscribe now

Happy NFL Draft Week! Cannot wait to see Western New Yorkers out at Wayland Brewing Company this Wednesday evening for a night of poddin,’ beers and football. (Imagine we’ll have a Sabre goal or two to discuss, too. Holy hell. What a Game 1.)

I’ll also have a running live chat all three days of the draft so we can all hang out virtually.

Miss our two-parter on new Buffalo Bills head coach Joe Brady? Here it is in full below.

Thank you for reading, sharing and subscribing.

Subscribe now

Share

Part I: ‘I’ll set my jaw’

ORCHARD PARK, NY — Staring down, he taps his foot on the hard carpet underneath his soles. There’s no cushion, no give at all. The sight of something so dull transports Joe Brady back in time. All the way back to Jan. 6, 2013. He was a college senior with exactly zero coaching prospects at the national coaching convention in Nashville.

He was also exceptionally naïve.

Brady knew that his buddy, DJ Mangas, had a hotel room at the convention’s Gaylord Opryland resort and figured he was good to go. The two were college teammates at William & Mary and Mangas, now coaching at D-III Hampden-Sydney, assured Brady he could tag along. Surely, this meant two beds for two guests. Yet when he showed up, Brady realized there were three Hampden-Sydney coaches bunking in this room.

He was the outsider.

There were no blankets to spare. Mangas threw him a pillow.

Brady taps his foot again.

“I was literally on this,” he says.

Somehow, Brady was more distressed during the day than at night. In his mind? Landing a full-time job was a slam dunk at this monstrous convention. Brady had two boxes of business cards printed up and Brady was already emailing his cover letter and resume to coaches coast to coast. He was the overzealous job seeker initiating conversation with everyone. In his mind? It’d only take one. Just one coach amongst the hundreds of D-I, D-II and D-III coaches in attendance to believe.

“Basically doing what the high school kid does with his highlight tape,” Brady says. “Will anybody give me an opp?”

Uh, no.

All cards, all resumes were treated with the tender love and care of junk mail and those annoying fliers pinned underneath a windshield.

He left town thinking he may never coach.

“It was depressing,” Brady says.

Thirteen years later, he landed the most prestigious sports job on the market. The college kid who just might’ve sold his soul to work 100 hours a week as a graduate assistant for Timbuktu Tech is the new head coach of the Buffalo Bills. Nine coaches in all interviewed for the position — Terry Pegula, Brandon Beane and the Bills brass chose the man in their building with zero head-coaching experience on that updated resume. Brady inherits a perennial title contender piloted by an MVP quarterback. A future Hall of Fame quarterback. He was hired to accomplish exactly what his predecessor could not.

Get to a Super Bowl. Win a Super Bowl.

How does he handle this pressure? He points to those three nights in Tennessee.

“By remembering,” he says, “that I slept on a floor in a hotel room.”

He thinks back to defying his coaches as the sixth wide receiver on the high school depth chart. It got him to college. He thinks back to teaching himself how to write scouting reports in ‘13. It got him his first job. He thinks back to how his relationship with quarterback Josh Allen first bloomed. A partnership was born.

“Don’t change who you are just because you got another opportunity,” he continues. “I work with the same mindset.”

That’s a man who walked into the building this morning wearing shorts. It was 15 degrees and snowing. Tall ‘n pale ‘n perpetually bounding room to room on the strength of far too many energy drinks, it doesn’t appear as if his eyebrows have ever tilted in 45-degree rage. Don’t let kindness fool you. In the cutthroat terrain of pro football, Joe Brady has always been a carnivore who seizes the moment. Everyone may think they know the man who’s been calling plays for 2 ½ seasons. Fans love nothing more than the mysterious unknown and Brady — by a landslide — was the most known candidate interviewing to replace Sean McDermott. News of his hiring was initially treated by locals like receiving a new pair of socks on Christmas morning. Well, if those socks were first soaked in the old stadium’s urinal trough on a hot summer day.

There’s always been more to this coach than the wide receiver screen you hate or hook and ladder you love.

Who is Joe Brady?

He’s hesitant to answer, describing himself as a “close-to-the-vest guy.” An introvert. Until one story flows to the next, and the next, and the next, and two hours pass. A portrait sharpens this conversation with Go Long. He’d go even longer if not for his assistant texting that he’s due for a meeting. Time will tell if a total reset was needed. One fact is indisputable. This 36-year-old from South Florida is a striking contrast from the man he’ll replace precisely where it matters for this team at this time. Presented with an opportunity, he does not vacillate and overanalyze until that opportunity passes him by.

Brady attacks.

Go Long is your forever home for longform journalism in pro football.

We are powered — 100 percent — by you.

Subscribe now

His press conferences will likely meander. Brady jokingly crowns himself the worst person to ever speak at a podium because his only goal in that setting is to protect his players.

“I’ll take the blame. I’ll eat it. I’ll praise when it’s good and, when it’s bad, I’ll take it,” Brady says. “But with my guys, I curse a lot. I’m passionate. There is an edge to me that I choose not to show to the outside world.”

That edge is the real story.

An intense confidence rooted in what nobody sees.

“I know how hard I work, how hard the coaching staff works, how hard the players work,” Brady says. “You need an edge going into that game. I’ll set my jaw. I want everybody to know that we’re going to try to make it a game they don’t want to play. I need that persona, that mindset. It’s not fake. It’s who I am.”

Hesitate for one second in high school, in college, in the pros and Brady knows for damn sure he isn’t sitting right here.

He starts the only place he can. The good ‘ol days of youth sports when Dad coached him in everything.

“Man,” Brady begins, “he was hard as hell on me.”

Joe Brady III routinely threw Joe Brady IV out of games, benched him, punished him and… yeah. It was warranted. Son was a ticking time bomb. Son admits his temper ran boiling hot because, plainly, he despised losing. Thinking back, he’s not sure parents even deploy this form of discipline anymore. But if he threw his bat in a baseball game, Brady was told to sit down and write six words repeatedly. I will not throw my bat. I will not throw my bat. I will not throw my bat. A real-life Bart Simpson in detention.

Drives home from practices and games were always contentious.

One baseball season, Brady vividly remembers hoping someone other than his own father drafted him.

Switching back ‘n forth between different sports got tiresome, so he admits his mindset “probably sucked.”

He gives Dad a hard time but relives all of this with immense reverence. Today, Brady hopes he’s home in time for his son’s bedtime routine when he knows his own father was back to throw a ball around every single day. All Joe III wanted for Joe IV is the father-son relationship he never had — and the football future he let slip way. Dad was a star running back in high school, briefly enrolled at Clemson and it didn’t last long. He planned on transferring to Florida State, to walk onto Bobby Bowden’s team, but those plans fizzled. Son only says that Dad “was a knucklehead idiot.” In sum, he didn’t have parents instructing him to suck it up through hard times.

He quit. A lifelong regret.

Eventually, Dad ran his own company but he made a point to tell Joe that if he ended up working for him at Brady Fire Equipment, then he failed as a parent. He pushed him.

Adds Brady: “He wanted me to do more.”

Day-to-day pressure that presented a young Joe Brady with a choice. He could repel, rebel, refuse such a life.

Instead, the two became exceptionally close. Brady knew his father’s heart was in the right place.

South Florida was the perfect sports breeding ground, too. This is where dreams become reality. Thinking back, one reason Brady believes he relates to players and coaches from all backgrounds today is geography. Outside of baseball tournaments in Cooperstown and North Carolina, he never left the state. All while sports constituted his entire life. His grandfather was an original season ticketholder for the Miami Dolphins. The Joes must’ve talked about something other than sports at some point in life, but nothing comes to mind.

To this day, Dad is his most trusted consigliere.

Never matters what time it is. Brady calls him after every practice. If the Bills face the New York Jets that week, they dissect the defense. Joe II isn’t afraid to offer a suggestion or two. Back when Brady was the offensive coordinator at LSU, Dad drew up a triple-option play on the board he thought his son should implement. The ball is handed off to a running back and that running back reads the defensive end. He can either keep it or pitch it back to the quarterback.

Son politely informed his father that LSU’s quarterback was Joe Burrow. Two simple words then had him fuming.

Son dismissed such a design as… “old school.”

“Man,” says Brady, shaking his head, “that pissed him off.”

That fall, naturally, Oklahoma’s Lincoln Riley ran this exact play with quarterback Kyler Murray and Dad texted the video to his son quickly as his thumbs permitted. Old school, huh? Joe IV reminded him that Burrow and Murray are quite different. But later, as the Buffalo Bills’ playcaller this past season, you guessed it, Brady had running back Ty Johnson leading quarterback Josh Allen through the hole in a game vs. the Pittsburgh Steelers. Dad brought it up again.

“He’ll be wrong,” Brady says, “but I don’t know if he’ll admit when he’s wrong.”

The same day the Bills smashed those Steelers, 220 miles away, Brady’s wife gave birth to a baby girl.

He missed it all.

He wants to be a present father to his two kids. It won’t be easy as the new head coach of the Buffalo Bills.

Quarterback was the position he played his entire life. Quarterback was his destiny. In another lifetime, Joe Brady and Geno Smith engage in 48-45 shootouts galore in South Florida. The two attended rival high schools. Those dreams, however, were swiftly dashed ahead of Brady’s freshman year.

Don’t pan your pregame binoculars toward Brady expecting to see whistling fastballs delivered between the numbers of receivers. To this day, he struggles to throw a football. That’s because during a camp at St. Thomas Aquinas, Brady threw out his shoulder. “Dead arm,” he calls it. He paid the price for throwing with all arm — no lower body torque at all — in both football and baseball.

This injury also served as the first major tipping point in his football life.

Brady switched to wide receiver. (“My Dad was just so pissed. You know, here’s this tall, goofy kid: ‘You’re not going to be a wideout.’”) On the JV team, Brady scored touchdowns on his first eight receptions. (Dad was now all-in.) Moving up to the varsity team, there was only one problem. Into his junior year, during a camp in Orlando, a coach called for five wides and didn’t mention his name. The coaches at Everglades High School did not view Brady as one of the five best receivers on his own team. “This is not good,” Brady told himself.

He didn’t transfer, instead choosing to stay ready.

The first drive of the first game that 2006 season — against local power Chaminade–Madonna — one receiver suffered an injury. And before a coach on the sideline even called the name for a replacement, Joe Brady rushed onto the field. Didn’t think twice. Didn’t care. All animalistic instinct told him to go. First play, the quarterback threw him a hitch for eight yards. Brady stayed in the game. Brady caught another pass, then another, and led his team in receiving this 34-13 defeat.

Yes, on the sideline, he was chastised for insubordination.

Yes, he was sent right back to the bottom of the depth chart into Week 2.

He proved a point, too.

That week, Brady was eating a bowl of pasta and meatballs when a coach informed him he’d be starting because a handful of his teammates got in trouble. He scored a touchdown in a 14-7 win over Nova, again led Everglades in receiving and — suddenly — the name Joe Brady ranked near the top of receiving stats in talent-rich Broward County.

Division I football became a realistic destination. He was even asked to do an interview on Miami television.

After fielding questions from a local station, walking back, Brady’s hamstring and glute felt tight. He didn’t think it was a big deal. Brady tried to practice and informed his coach he couldn’t even move. He underwent testing at the hospital, was sent home and nobody was too concerned. The next morning, he tried to get out of bed and fell. He couldn’t even stand on that leg. More testing revealed that Brady needed to be transported to the children’s hospital. ASAP. He had a staph infection, MRSA, and it had gotten into his bloodstream.

On the drive, he asked a paramedic if this was bad. The gentleman did exactly nothing to quell his fears. “There’s a chance you can lose your leg,” he deadpanned.

Brady freaked out, understandably.

“Wait, what?!” he replied. Don’t tell me that!’”

Here at Bills HQ, he points through the window toward a nearby car. Walking that short distance, about 20 feet, would take him 15 agonizing minutes. Nobody knows what caused the infection.

From the hospital that Friday night, he watched his own interview on TV.

Then, the game.

It was heartbreaking.

“For me, I had football,” Brady says. “I was so proud of staying with it, staying locked with it, finally getting an opportunity to go, staying ready when my time came. I was ready. And then finally when I was able to get the opportunity, it was taken away.”

He spent two full weeks in the hospital and lost close to 15 pounds. But with loss, came a totally new perspective on life: Appreciation. One sprint onto the field led to one ball thrown his direction and a sliver of success. Brady realized right then just how much he loved football. Needed football. So he quit baseball altogether to pour all focus, all attention into excelling on the gridiron at Everglades.

“A huge moment in my career,” Brady says, “that is so small.”

One school took notice: the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. On his visit, Brady watched highlights of future NFL assistant coach Chad Hall tearing up Notre Dame for 142 yards on 32 carries. Head coach Troy Calhoun had just taken over after coordinating the Houston Texans offense and made it seem as if the Falcons were modernizing into a pro-style offense that’d allow him to flourish out wide.

Brady chose the Air Force and, soon enough, was doing running back drills himself.

He also had broken his wrist in a high school all-star game before stepping foot on campus. Brady didn’t tell anybody because he figured he could tough this out. His first scrimmage with the Falcons, he broke it again and needed surgery.

Football — again — was snatched from him. Only, this time, there was no kicking his feet up on a hospital bed. Brady continued to push his body through hell as a cadet in basic training. He admits he didn’t exactly do his research on day-to-day life at the Air Force. Brady didn’t even eat the first three days of basic training because he didn’t know how to properly ask for food.

Fun was limited. Military life is not the normal freshman college experience.

“But I wish everybody would have to go through a basic training,” Brady says. “When you go from being an 18-year-old to being on your own, and you can’t think for the next eight weeks, it breaks you a little bit. So much of who I am was a product of my upbringing and then the rebranding once I went to the academy.”

If football was going to stay central to his life, though, another aggressive move on the chess board was required. ASAP. One member of Brady’s squadron had the same football aspirations as him, suffered an injury, then never sniffed the field again. A cadet who now attended the Air Force for military purposes only. It spooked Brady. He was here for one reason — football — and feared future recruiting waves would wash him away, too. So, he decided to transfer.

Dad was livid. Dad saw his own life repeating in his son. “Like, ‘Oh my God, this is my life. I can’t F up my son’s life in the same moment,’” Brady recalls. But if there’s a theme to his rise, it’s the melodic blend of hardship and instinctual conviction.

With Dad’s assistance — perhaps too much assistance, he jokes — Brady transitioned to William & Mary.

Leaning back, Brady cannot help but crack a smile and laugh. He did not suddenly live happily ever after.

One week into spring ball under Jimmye Laycock at this FCS school, he broke his foot running a route… against air. Because of course he did. Brady knows how this all sounds and agrees he was an injury-riddled mess. Initially, he thought this was only a sprained ankle. As the new guy going full Rudy Ruettiger to make an impression on the staff, no way was Brady reporting this injury to the training staff. Fresh off that broken wrist, he didn’t want anyone thinking he was brittle. He played doctor. He treated himself. Inside his dorm room, Brady Googled various remedies and learned all about RICE (rest, ice, compress, elevate) in a slapdash attempt to fix himself.

Soon, Brady had no choice but to seek help.

He spent all of spring ball in a walking boot.

The good news? Brady never suffered another injury. Bad news? Brady barely sniffed the field. His name was never invoked by coaches for dynamite plays to be deployed on Saturdays. Rather, a hint of disdain on the scout team. When William & Mary prepared to face the ACC’s North Carolina Tar Heels, Brady snatched an in-breaking route and defensive coordinator Bob Shoop lost his mind. Brady imitates Shoop’s scratchy voice here to a T. “Repeat the play!” the coach shouted. “If Joe Braaaaa-deee is catching balls on us, what do you think North Carolina’s going to do?!”

Says Brady: “I was like, ‘Damn, Shoop!’”

NFL ball was not an option. Sorry, pops.

In four seasons with the Tribe, he caught all of three passes for 34 yards.

“Balling,” he says. “I can name all those catches.”

When Brady thought he’d finally get a shot at substantive offensive snaps, into his junior year, William & Mary brought in a wide receiver who was clearly more talented: Tre McBride. Rather than treat McBride as a dragon to slay or toil in self-pity, Brady (again) manufactured an opportunity. He genuinely tried to coach up a kid out to render him obsolete. McBride was skeptical. At first, he couldn’t trust a teammate who was this helpful, this generous. But for Brady, the relationship was an awakening. He understood exactly how to run routes — releases off the line, stems at the top of routes, etc. — but physically could not do it.

Now, in a way, he could play vicariously through a 6-foot, 210-pound weapon from McDonough, Ga. McBride heeded every morsel of advice, took Brady’s spot, and blossomed into one of the school’s best offensive players ever. After catching 64 passes for 809 yards with four scores, he was drafted by the Tennessee Titans and kicked around the league for five teams.

Too often, Brady would get knocked off a route, ask “What should I do differently?” and simply hear a coach tell him to do something different.

He embraced life teaching the why. This was a calling.

“The moment,” Brady says, “I was like, ‘Alright, I need to coach.’”

Of course, Brady was also a double major at William & Mary, the second-oldest institution of higher education in the United States next to Harvard. This school’s been around since 1693. Undergrads don’t kill themselves over midterms and dissertations here to become a coach. They’re seeking six- and seven-figure jobs at Fortune 500 companies, not shameless QC gigs demanding 100 hours a week for humiliating pay. Sane third parties on campus — professors, classmates, etc. — considered this a harebrained master plan.

“Like, what a waste of education,” Brady says. “And I don’t mean that in a negative way. But you don’t go to William & Mary to be like, ‘Hey, I’m going to go be a coach now.’ I could have just done that anywhere.”

Yet, he craved the sport’s entry-level serfdom and all insomnia, all microwavable dinners that came with it.

Which brings us back to that concrete-soft carpet.

He’s one of 32 head coaches. Elite company. The face of an organization. But if this was Joe the Janitor or Joey Ticket Sales, there’s a good chance a member of the Buffalo Bills’ security staff would stop this employee in his tracks on the walkway to ask a.) why he’s up at 3:20 a.m.; and b.) why he’s wearing shorts in freezing temps.

This is no performance for social media. It’s who Joe Brady’s always been. Ask any player inside this Buffalo Bills locker room about Brady and they’ll inevitably cite his magnetic energy. How he’s a relentless tidal wave of positivity.

For a team led by the same man the last nine years, it’s severely needed. And natural.

I ask Brady where this all comes from, and he points to this all being an innate passion.

“When people are around me,” he says, “I think they can feel that. I’m not trying to be energetic. I’m not trying to be a hoo-rah guy. I’m trying to be myself. But people can feel that. I’m getting to live my dreams and do exactly what I want to do and, honestly, where I want to do it. That makes it easy. You get to come to work and it’s not like I have to be like, ‘Ugh. Here we go. I’m going to have to put on a show today.’ Yeah, I drink a lot of caffeine, but there’s no fake…”

A lot of caffeine, as in… how much today exactly? Well, Brady needed to get his blood drawn so it’s been a mild morning. An espresso, caffeine gum and, finally, Gatorade Fast Twitch No. 1 are powering him through. The caffeine element of this energy drink beverage is real — each bottle contains 200 mg of caffeine. He’ll typically drink three or four per day. And two Espresso’s. And two MEG Caffeine Gum pieces.

That’s the offseason.

During the season, those numbers all go up.

Brady does replenish his system with ample H2O, and the team nutritionist assures he’s got nothing to worry about. The same probably cannot be said for the coach calling himself “C12” in Foxborough.

Moments later, he’s still thinking about that “energy” question and pinpoints a day he’ll never forget — Jan. 6, 2013 — because it was the same day rookie Robert Griffin Jr. tore up his knee in the NFC wild card. His buddy, DJ Mangas, grew up a diehard Washington Redskins fan and they watched this game on at TV at the Gaylord Opryland Resort in Nashville on Day 1 of that American Football Coach Association (AFCA) convention.

Those fruitless three days were the turning point of his entire life.

Mangas, a year older, was already coaching quarterbacks at D-III Hampden-Sydney. Brady toted a bag of nice clothes, business cards and a notebook with the expectation, teetering on a full-fledged guarantee, that he’d land a job of his own in this psychotic world of coaching. Upon arrival, he realized he wouldn’t even have his own bed. Two of Mangas’ fellow coaches packed in the room, too.

Hampden-Sydney DC Wes Dodson had booked the room for himself, Mangas and fellow assistant Ahmaad Smith.

The convention rotates to a new city each year. Many speeches are given. Notepad in hand, Brady took copious amounts of notes. (Still has those notes, too.) He remembers Shannon Dawson, West Virginia’s offensive coordinator, discussing wide receiver technique. The previous year, Tavon Austin and Stedman Bailey tore up the Big 12. A coach from North Dakota State, Craig Bohl, was honored as the FCS Coach of the Year. At one point, the ex-William & Mary DC Shoop took a crew to a nice breakfast spot. He now coached at nearby Vanderbilt.

Wisdom was shared by all. Brady was a sponge.

Brady was also here with one goal in mind: Get a damn job.

He received a tinge of interest from FCS Marist and D-II Findlay (Ohio) before both admitted they couldn’t seriously consider him because he was still in school.

Room to room, Brady encountered mobs of young coaches gunning for jobs and promotions — a humbling reminder that he was not alone. Any 23-year-old seeking a job can feel like a guppy lost in a sea of candidates. Schools and schools of coaches swim into the same speeches… engage in the same small talk… take the same notes. An intimidating scene. Those pre-NIL days, stacks of cash weren’t piled in the coffers. “Analyst” positions weren’t concocted out of thin air. Colleges had a finite number of positions available.

“Oh my goodness,” says Dodson, now the head coach at D-III LaGrange. “There’s just so many people. That’s what people don’t understand. The coaching profession is not easy to get into because there’s more coaches than there are jobs.”

Dodson remembers booking the room. Details are hazy. He, too, had slept on his share of floors and chairs over the years. But even though he had coached at William & Mary himself in the past and his stepson played at the school, Dodson never met Brady before. Never even spoke to him before the kid showed up.

Brady’s energy stood out. He was “on the run” nonstop.

To this day, with pride, Dodson tells colleagues: “Joe Brady slept on my floor.”

“You can tell people that are always willing to just go and talk to people — they’re going to make something of themselves,” Dodson says. “They’re not afraid to go get something if they want it. That’s what you do as a young coach. Any way you can find a room to sleep in, you find a way. And that’s what he’s done. He found a way.”

Still, in the moment, the trip felt like one gigantic swing and miss. Nobody at this de facto job fair understood the Real Joe Brady. Upon landing back to Williamsburg, Va., he could’ve pivoted and put his education to use. Coaches across America most certainly threw his business cards into the trash. He only received a handful of automatic replies on email. Three collegiate receptions at a small school don’t exactly send a bat signal. Everyone in life must come to grips with football passing them by. It’s sad.

Yet, Brady did not bail. Brady refused to stay discouraged for long. Much like a 17-year-old quarterback on the other side of the country, in Firebaugh, Calif., reaching out to every Division I football coach he possibly could and hearing nothing back this same year.

He took a deep breath and looked around. The Tribe hired a new OC in Kevin Rogers this spring. Brady viewed this as another chance to learn. The longtime coach had Donovan McNabb at Syracuse and Brett Favre with the Minnesota Vikings. Brady loitered around Rogers’ office as much possible, soaking up as much knowledge as he could. Right around then, one of the Tribe’s assistant coaches on defense, John Bowes, took a new job at Fordham.

Brady walked into Laycock’s office to say he wanted a job. “He laughed at me,” Brady recalls, “and told me to get the hell out of his office. ‘Beat it geek,’ in so many words.” It wasn’t personal. Laycock explained to his backup wide receiver that this isn’t something he does. Never before had Laycock hired one of his players directly to the staff.

“Well,” Brady told him, “I’d be a great first.’”

Brady kept hanging around… hanging around… and chipped in with spring ball.

The reason Laycock shunned his own players fresh off the graduation stage is that he didn’t want assistants coaching their buddies. He believed in a healthy separation between church and state. There’s a first for everything. Both DC Scott Boone and D-Line coach Trevor Andrews thought Brady had potential. Put him on defense, they told Laycock, and he would be with a totally different crew. Boone saw a promising “football junkie.” The head coach started warming up to the idea and, as graduation loomed, informed Brady that he was bringing in three coaches to essentially audition for a linebackers position. He’d be one of the candidates.

At some point, Laycock would then decide who gets the job.

He told Brady to get the heck out of dodge after graduating. Relax. Recharge his batteries.

Yeah, right. No chance was Brady going to decelerate now.

All coaches on staff hit the recruiting trail and Brady stayed right inside the football offices preparing for his one shot. He studied the Tribe’s playbook to biblical proportions, teaching himself defensive football. He looked ahead, too. Brady authored detailed scouting reports on every single one of William & Mary’s 2013 opponents. He knew diddly poo about playing linebacker, but Brady applied what he did know — offense — to each report. The Tribe’s first opponent was West Virginia. The year prior, his old high school foe in Miramar, Fla. (Geno Smith) lit up defenses. He explained how the Mountaineers incinerated defenses.

Brady knows himself, too. He would’ve gone insane back home in waiting mode.

All instinct told him to stay right there inside those offices and teach himself how to break down tape.

“So when those coaches came back, everything was ready for them,” Brady says. “Just go. Just go. Why am I going to go away and let two other guys have an opportunity at the job?’ And I didn’t sit there and think like, ‘Oh, if I’m sticking around, it’s going to be my job.’ But, one, where am I going to go? I get to be in the office and learn the defense. I looked at it as, ‘Here I am as an offensive coach. I can bring value. I might not bring any value as a defense. I probably didn’t know anything like looking back. But I thought I could bring value as an offensive-minded guy on defense.”

Nobody told Brady to sprint onto the field for that eight-yard hitch at Everglades.

Nobody advised he sleep on a hotel floor.

Nobody made him stay at school and prepare scouting reports.

He sees an opportunity, smells blood, leaves zero doubt.

“I got the job, basically, by not leaving,” Brady says. “I was the grinder. You figure out what everybody needs and do that. Your job is to try to make everybody’s life easier.”

When coaches returned to campus, the reports were done. They were stunned. Brady remembers Boone putting it bluntly to the head boss. “Shit,” he said, “we might as well hire him.”

Brady watched clinic tape of Penn State’s Tom Bradley to learn this funky new position. He had talent in his room. Luke Rhodes has been the Indianapolis Colts’ long-snapper for 10 years and counting. It also helped that the DC, Boone, coached linebackers.

Cite the harsh reality of this industry to Boone — how those clinics are flooded with candidates — and he interjects.

“There’s a bunch of guys that want to coach, but there’s not that many guys who want to be a coach,” says Boone, now a special teams coach at Duke. “We talk about it all the time. There’s guys who are fans with whistles and guys who are coaches. And guys who are coaches don’t get caught up in all the things: the gear, the trips, the travel, the hotel. They get caught up in the ball.

“You can’t dip your toe in it. You’ve got to jump in with your full body. And Joe — early — was one of those guys.”

Endorsing Brady was a no-brainer — because of this work ethic — but then his offensive acumen popped. Defensive coaches thought they knew what offenses were trying to accomplish on certain plays. Inside meetings, Boone says, the young Brady often corrected them. “That’s not really what is happening,” he’d say. “They’re doing this to create this matchup.” He was right. That season, William & Mary’s defense held opponents to 10 points or less in six games.

Boone saw a young coach dying to learn and evolve. Every day.

“That’s probably why his track has been as fast as it has,” he says.

No kidding. When Boone headed to Nevada into 2014, Brady assumed autonomy over those linebackers for a full season and his career then took off like a rocket ship.

To Penn State as a grad assistant. Shoop, the coach needling him as a player, was the DC who helped bring him to Happy Valley.

To the New Orleans Saints as an offensive assistant. He treasured access to an all-time great coach (Sean Payton) and quarterback (Drew Brees).

To LSU as the pass game coordinator. Pressure was high. Heading into that 2019 season, Brady knew that his boss, head coach Ed Orgeron, was squarely on the hot seat with an 11-11 record through two seasons. If his offense stunk it up? Coach O was getting fired. Brady had never called one play before in his life. “Just like that guy running out on the field,” Brady recalls. “Don’t change who you are just because you got another opportunity.” LSU humiliated defenses weekly en route to a national title. Burrow enjoyed one of the finest seasons in college football history. Just like that, he was the new boy wonder in this profession.

To the Carolina Panthers as an OC. The same season his greatest weapon (Christian McCaffrey) barely played and his quarterback play was bottom tier, Brady squeezed 1,000-yard seasons out of four players: D.J. Moore, Robbie Anderson, Curtis Samuel and Mike Davis. But this 1 ½-year run was a crash-landing to that proverbial carpet. A nightmare. Brady’s tone changes from biographical to introspective thinking back to his time as the youngest active offensive coordinator in the league. Ego entered the equation.

The 30-year-old Brady thought he needed to act a certain way and admits he did not make his job about the players. Scheme dictated all in his mind.

“If I try to be someone that I’m not, if I try to act like someone that I’m not, if I try to think I have all the answers, I’ll fail,” Brady says. “And in elements of myself, I did that in Carolina. I told myself if I ever get that opportunity again, I’m not going to do that.

“That’s not who I am. Don’t get me wrong, I love going into the office and drawing stuff up. But when I’m with my guys, I need them to know that it’s not about the scheme. We’re going to win because of you guys.”

Coaches can go through their 30s, their 40s, their 50s and never accept that players should take precedence over plays. This concept is a central theme in Michael Silver’s excellent “The Why is Everything.” Kyle Shanahan quickly gained notoriety as the sport’s most inventive play designer, but it took years for the San Francisco 49ers brainiac to value the gifts of individual players ahead of those X’s and O’s devised in the middle of the night. Bring up Shanahan’s name and Brady points out a key distinction.

Shanahan was winning and winning before finally evolving.

“I had to fail for that to happen,” Brady says. “How many times did Shanahan fail? The best thing that ever happened to me was getting fired.”

Brady did not want to chase another OC gig. Not yet.

He needed a total reset and coaching quarterbacks for the Buffalo Bills made perfect sense. Everyone else in town — OC Ken Dorsey, QB Josh Allen, etc. — knew the offense better than him, which forced Brady to open his eyes and reexamine offensive football. One thing went right in Carolina. Sam Darnold, one of his rotating Panthers QBs, must’ve enjoyed something about his coaching. Because if Darnold trashed his name to Allen, a close buddy, no way he gets this job.

Heading into Orchard Park, Brady knew all about Allen, the player.

He didn’t know Allen, the person.

That changed immediately.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Share

Part II: ‘They’ve got to play us’

ORCHARD PARK, NY — He never got nervous as a player. Joe Brady quips he didn’t see the field nearly enough.

As a coach, however, this is his unequivocal strength. Livelihoods are on the line — weekly — and he’s Joe Cool. Those closest to the Buffalo Bills’ new head coach barely see him break a sweat.

“I try not to be rattled because, one, my players see that,” Brady says. “Two, if I’m prepared, like I believe I do, everything will take care of itself.”

Granted, this was not the case Day 1 Meeting 1 as the team’s quarterbacks coach in 2022.

Brady remembers being far too rigid explaining how the Bills would do this and do that. Listening intently, Josh Allen could sense trepidation. As the conversation shifted to changes the Bills would be making in their protections, the team’s QB1 cracked a joke. Brady will leave details up for your imagination. The new coach mentioned a particular number aloud, and Allen chimed in. (“I’ll leave it at that.”)

Laughs filled the room and Brady felt himself loosen up — instantly. This was exactly what he needed.

Josh Allen can throw the football a country mile, bulldoze through linebackers and decimate defenses with a videographic memory. This ability to read a room off the field, however, rivals any skill he brings on it.

“Like, ‘Alright, this guy’s a little uptight in his first meeting. I can calm him down a little bit,’” Brady recalls. “And that’s what he does to any room he walks into, in this whole building. It’s all natural. It’s real. Not many people can have that pulse and be what that room needs. Not in a fake way.”

A season and a half later, Brady was elevated to offensive coordinator.

On a Monday, the Bills lost to the inferior Denver Broncos at home and fell to 5-5.

On a Tuesday, Brady was told he’s the new OC.

On Saturday, he walked into his most important meeting since that first address to the QBs. Brady now stood in front of the entire offense. He wanted guys to know he was ready for this moment, so he shared that story from his high school days. The time he sprinted right onto the field to catch a pass and forever change his life. He wouldn’t be where he is today without this conviction. (“They were probably all asleep,” jokes Brady.) And when it was time to discuss what amounted to a must-win vs. a talented New York Jets defense, he didn’t cast Quinnen Williams as a modern-day Mean Joe Greene, didn’t prop Sauce Gardner up on a pedestal, didn’t discuss this Jets unit at all.

Instead, Brady looked around the room and pointed at specific players in his own room.

Whoever’s on the other sideline needed to contend with the Buffalo Bills.

He reminded everyone: “It’s about us.”

Buffalo then put a nail in the Jets’ coffin with a 32-6 blowout win. After throwing an 81-yard touchdown to Khalil Shakir, a mic’d up Allen snarled: “I feel like I’m fucking back.” Fueled by a resurgent offense, those Bills came within an inch here, a few inches there of playing in the AFC Championship Game. The next season, 2024, Allen won league MVP. The next, 2025, the Bills lost in overtime of the divisional round in Denver.

Sean McDermott was fired.

It’s time for the next most important speech of Brady’s football life.

He won’t lose the plot.

Outside, a blizzard has engulfed Western New York. This climate should gobsmack opponents. Outside, across Abbott Road, that sparkling new stadium will host arguably the greatest player in the sport: Josh Allen. The new philosophy of this organization is quite refreshing. You need to play in Orchard Park. You need to play Josh Allen. Coaches can handle all minutiae, all nitty-gritty crafting of a gameplan and relay that information accordingly. There’s no need to build up any opponent as intergalactic. When it’s time to address the entire team — a roomful of players he’s gotten to know as human beings — Brady will hammer this point home.

“In front of the mass,” Brady says, “when you focus on the other team too much, you lose sight. I want the guys to know going into that game, ‘It is about us.’ They’ve got to play us and not the other way around.”

Because here’s another NFL truth: Players forever take on the personality of their head coach. Brady is not high strung like others in this profession. Imagining himself in that next speech, he brings up Josh Allen, Dion Dawkins and Spencer Brown on offense and Terrel Bernard, Bradley Chubb and Christian Benford on defense and asks aloud: “Why am I going to walk into that game nervous?”

This is where he derives his brazen confidence, his edge.

Everyone will.

He doesn’t plan on coaching scared, so his players won’t play scared.

Go Long is your home for longform in pro football.

Subscribe now

Nobody wanted Joe Brady at that Nashville coaching convention. The William & Mary reserve who caught all of three passes in college willed himself into the cutthroat world of football coaching.

Nobody wanted Josh Allen out of Firebaugh, Calif. He received precisely zero scholarships out of high school, then sent an email to 1,000+ colleges after JUCO. Only Wyoming responded.

Now, this is the HC-QB combination leading the organization. Kindred spirits who both know what it’s like to swipe right until their thumbs bleed without a single connection. The two can relate at a deeper level. Finally, the Bills have alignment where it matters most.

Head Coach and Quarterback must be in lockstep for any team to have a puncher’s chance.

The relationship between Allen and Sean McDermott was never rosy. As first examined in ’23, and explored again post-firing, the head man’s calculus never changed. McDermott did not view No. 17 as the center of this team’s universe, which created unnecessary roadblocks. Those close to this relationship cite those snow angels on ESPN as a red herring, repeating that their personalities were oil and water. Echoing members of the Bills coaching staff past, current sources in the building insist McDermott did not understand he was in possession of one of three greatest players on the planet.

It was bizarre and it took Terry Pegula a while to grasp in full. Eventually, the team’s owner identified the disconnect.

That’s why Allen was granted a seat at the interview table.

The choice was Brady.

At his introductory press conference, Brady professed his love for the quarterback. There’s no denying the fact that — as it pertains to the team’s $330 Million Man — the team’s new head coach gets it.

OK, so Allen is now a married man who’ll turn 30 years old next month. He’s a father of a new baby girl. He’s no longer Shane Gillis 24/7/365 inside the locker room. Jokes about a certain reproductive organ are on the decline. But rest assured. Allen still has his fastball. To this day, Brady is hesitant to answer any question posed by his quarterback because there’s always the distinct possibility that it’s a set-up. “Dude,” the QB will say through a poker face. “I’m asking you a question.”

Brady answers. Brady falls into the trap.

This was a refreshing union for the coach. Granted, Sam Darnold was always liable to drop a Michael Scott “that’s what she said” in the quarterback room. After spending so much time around the ultra-serious, ultra-buttoned up Drew Brees and Joe Burrow, part of Brady wondered if that’s how all of the elites needed to carry themselves at the position. Allen was no cookie cutter. Allen was proof that you can be one of the guys… and lead.

“And he can do things that no one in the world really can do,” Brady adds. “There’s a lot of power to that, but he wants to be coached and he’s a human. I have a lot of love for that man.”

This relationship only strengthened over time.

Allen was extremely close to a coach before, then saw that coach (Brian Daboll) take a head-coaching job with the New York Giants. GM Brandon Beane told us he believes Allen was careful not to get too close to Brady in fear of losing him to another team. All good teams with defensive-minded head coaches rifle through OCs. “It hurt him when Daboll left as the mentor, the father figure, the friend,” Beane said. “He had a great relationship with Joe but might not have let himself get quite as vulnerable as he did with Daboll because I think last year he thought Joe was going to leave.”

Brady turned down the New Orleans Saints job in 2025, then earned this Bills job in 2026.

(Note: For more on this decision to hire Brady, here’s our February piece following a sitdown with Beane and president of business operations Pete Guelli.)

Brady’s vantage point? He saw a quarterback who desired a coach that both cared for him and held him accountable. Allen was tight with Daboll off the field, true. They’d hang out on the back deck late into the night. It was father-son. Daboll could also go scorched earth on him during a game.

“When you’re a player of his level,” Brady says, “you always have to be mindful of who’s real and who’s not. That’s the element that naturally takes time. Even myself, I don’t trust easily. I’m not going to walk into that first team meeting and think I’m going to have everybody’s respect right away. That’s earned. Coaching Josh Allen was no different. I didn’t expect that first meeting where Josh was going to be like, ‘Yep, I’m going to do whatever you say and believe in you and you got all the answers.’ It was like, ‘We’re going to work through this together.’”

Skeptics decry the Brady hire as safe and/or placating the quarterback.

If anything, the opposite is true.

Bringing in a head coach starting at square one with Allen — totally hitting the reset button on such a consequential relationship — could’ve further delayed the quest toward a ring at best or blown up at worst. Brady’s now been in town for four years and two months. From that fragile first meeting to today, he’s gotten to a place where he can rip the quarterback when he should be ripped. Lift him up when he needs lifted.

Remember: Brady grew up on Dad’s tough love himself. Every special HC-QB combo is laced with just the right amount of healthy friction. No different than a successful marriage. I loved this analogy from the excellent Patrick Bet-David in “Your Next 5 Moves.” Show me a husband and wife who never fight, he writes, and that’s a relationship destined for destruction.

If a quarterback knows your intent is pure, it’s a lot easier to have the harsh and necessary dialogue. Pick any famous duo through time. Mahomes-Reid, Brady-Belichick, Favre-Holmgren, Montana-Walsh, Bradshaw-Noll. All had depth.

Brady expects total transparency.

“There’s going to be times on the sideline where we’re going to yell at each other,” Brady says. “There’s a lot of times we don’t agree. That doesn’t change how we feel about one another. We both set a level of accountability to one another. There’s a standard of how it should look. As long as we both can take the blame and we’re not pointing the fingers at one another, we’re good to go. I’ve made bad calls, he’s made right. I’ve made calls and he’s gotten to the wrong play. He’ll own it, I own it and we move on to the next play.”

A far cry from a head coach who wasn’t thrilled that Allen received the bulk of credit (a real thing) and once went ballistic on that quarterback for building a house in Orchard Park. But let’s not digress.

Indeed, there’s an sharp increase in emotional intelligence at One Bills Drive. Players are saying the quiet parts out loud. The day Brady was introduced as head coach, lineman Alec Anderson said: “He wants us to know that we don’t have to have our assholes so tight around him all the time. We can go walk around and be our personalities.” X’s and O’s do matter. The Bills will attack January football with more schematic ferocity. First, Brady knows he must connect with everyone on a level that transcends those X’s and O’s.

He wants to know the person more than the player. Their own sleeping-on-the-hotel-floor defining moment.

He points to James Cook, a man of few words. Where some people may interpret Cook’s stone-cold demeanor as “not caring,” Brady knows better. The two grew up 25 miles apart. “Talk to him out on the football field,” Brady says, “and he’ll say whatever he needs to say.” He cites quarterback dinners. Attending these each Friday night deepened his bond with Allen and the backups. He saw how they interacted with their wives and girlfriends.

“It’s everything,” Brady says. “If you only care about the player, you’re only reaching half of them. There’s so much more. Knowing where they come from. Knowing, ‘Alright, this guy might not communicate a lot. But it’s OK because I know who he is and his personality. When he does this, you reach him in this way.”

For 32 head coaches, life away from football often resembles sporadic clicks of a camera.

Seattle Seahawks head coach Mike Macdonald stated that he spends a half-hour with his son during the week, with a tint of pride. As if it was ample time.

Coaches usually sound like aliens from another planet on the topic of work-life balance. The industry is inherently psychotic. Brady grew up with a (very) involved father and, dammit, he’s trying to thread this impossible needle with a 3-year-old and 5-month-old. Here, Brady admits there’s a ton of guilt in knowing his kids aren’t getting the best version of himself. He hasn’t come up for air since the Bills’ 33-30 overtime loss at Mile High, from interviewing for three different head-coaching vacancies… to scoring this gig amongst nine candidates… to filling out his first coaching staff… to free agency to, now, preparing for the NFL draft. (“No complaints there!”) His dream’s been fulfilled. But recently, Brady was scrolling through pictures from the family’s vacation at the beach last summer — the last time his family spent a string of uninterrupted days together.

Seeing how much his son has grown since then was “depressing,” he admits. Coaching can make any man’s life feel like the Adam Sandler movie, “Click.” Time’s stuck on fast forward. You miss birthdays, buzzer-beaters, daddy-daughter dances, milestones you’ll never get back.

Yet, this is the business Joe Brady has chosen.

Hell yeah, he enjoys it. Every minute of it. He knows there are millions of people who work endless hours at jobs they hate. He gets to watch football.

So, he finds a way.

This spring, Brady has been setting his alarm for 3 a.m. each morning. This gets Brady to the facility by 3:20. That way, he’s working while his kids sleep for three more hours. Wait until 6 a.m. and he knows he wouldn’t be back home until 10. Finding those hidden hours ensures Brady can take over all bath and bedtime proceedings. His baby girl still needs Mom, but Jordan is Dad’s responsibility. And all fellow fathers? Joe Brady is you. He, too, knows the perils and pitfalls of the nightly witching hour. Wait too long, break routine a smidge, and chaos awaits. “Absolute madness,” he jokes. He’ll read book, after book, after book, after book, after book, often turning off the lamp and using his iPhone flashlight as a reading light to ever… so… gradually… see his son’s eyelids finally close for the night.

Brady encourages his assistant coaches to bring their kids to work if they want. As long as they’re not in meetings, he’s got no problem with it. His own son loves it at One Bills Drive. The result, he hopes, is a healthy work environment for all.

No way could Joe Brady have predicted this as his life inside that crammed hotel room 13 years ago. Back when he had zero clue if he’d ever work in coaching. He was one of many. He can still remember the other young coaches at the convention dying to enter this crazy world. A handful blazed a trail. Justin Rascati, the QBs coach at James Madison, was present. Now, he’s the pass game coordinator for the Cincinnati Bengals. Matt Guerrieri, a GA at Duke, is now the safeties coach at Ohio State University. Josh Grizzard was a GA at Duke, too. He’s the pass game coordinator for the Philadelphia Eagles.

The small-school coach honored in Nashville that year, Craig Bohl, took the job at Wyoming before then taking a chance on a hard-throwing gunslinger from Firebaugh.

And at the NFL Combine this past February, Brady ran into a familiar face. It was Ahmaad Smith. “Last I saw you,” Smith told him, “you were sleeping on the floor.”

OK, so Macdonald’s comment might’ve been a tick extreme… but not that extreme. Nobody in the NFL flinched when the clip went viral because everyone understands that winning demands sacrifice.

The 2026 season begins soon.

Brady wants what Macdonald’s Seahawks currently have.

It’ll require more than a nocturnal life.

Modern playoff games almost always boil down to one or two plays. The chasm between winning and losing is razor thin.

Coaches who master split-second decisions are at the advantage. It’s why the Bills put all candidates through rigorous game-management testing. If one game goes haywire, that’s understandable. Nine years’ worth of January failings is a trend that bakes into the subconscious of an entire organization. Doom becomes the expectation. This is what Pegula was referencing by that “proverbial playoff wall.” I get the general populace going berserk over his Keon Coleman dig. Most people are offended by their own shadow nowadays. But the press conference quote that should’ve caught fire was when the owner got real on McDermott.

“It’s not an easy decision. Trust me,” Pegula said. “But what is success? Is success being in the playoffs seven years in a row with no Super Bowl appearance?”

He let those words hang in suspense.

Nobody knows yet how Brady handles this imperative aspect of the game because there’s no way to simulate fourth and 2 from midfield with 1:35 remaining in front of 60,000 fans. He knows this.

All holistic messaging, however, is supported by action.

During his interview for the job, Brady used the word “attack” often. Up in the booth as a playcaller, he explained, it drove him mad when communication to Allen shut off at the 15-second mark of the play clock and defenses started to disguise and deceive. He wants opposing playcallers to feel this raw helplessness, to scream “F—k!” in horror like he would. Coaches who faced this Bills D years past also informed the team’s brass during the interview process just how stagnant and predictable their defense was to face presnap.

Bend-don’t-break logic doesn’t fly against quarterbacks capable of killing you with a thousand paper cuts.

On 52 non-kneeldown drives in their last six playoff defeats, the Bills have surrendered 25 TDs, 13 field goals and 3.83 points per drive while creating only three turnovers and forcing only 12 punts with one missed field goal.

Offensively, expect changes. Gameplans in the past could become too hyper-focused on the opposition. If the Bills faced an elite passer — like Patrick Mahomes, for example — the edict from above was often to play keepaway. Play safe. Nerves were obvious in the head coach ahead of those Kansas City Chiefs playoff games. Several sources inside the building still diagnose those 13 fateful seconds at Arrowhead Stadium (and the game’s bizarre aftermath) as the moment that broke this franchise’s psychology.

The roster is much different. Now, the head coach is different.

It’s worth noting that Brady wasn’t even around for the team’s debilitating 2021 divisional playoff loss in KC and that he only has glowing things to say about his former boss.

Finally, Buffalo can start anew.

Walking the halls those other six days of the week, Brady won’t resemble a Tin Man. He’s the opposite of tight. He’s the first to point out that this doesn’t mean he won’t make mistakes. His hope is for the Bills to possess enough “competitive stamina” to forget whatever happened the previous day, to shake off an inevitable last-second loss instead of letting it become the team’s identity. Speeches. Play style. Personnel. He plans on doing everything in his power to make such a fearless mentality infectious. Starting… now. Players are officially back for offseason workouts.

It’s “two-fold,” he adds. Brady needs the Bills defense to bring this energy.

“And if we talk about ourselves (on defense) like we’re on a level of Patrick Mahomes and Joe Burrow, then we’re going to be able to play with that mindset,” Brady says. “If we just talk about like, ‘yeah, they’re above us and they’re so much better than us,’ we might start second-guessing: ‘Can I go make that play?’ And that’s why I want the personalities of the guys that are going to come in with that mentality. And it’s not only about Josh Allen, but damn, we got Josh Allen.”

Through the free agency frenzy, Brady sat in on all transactions (and near transactions).

Watching Beane work the phones agent to agent to agent was vertigo-inducing.

There were times the head coach thought the GM should hang up on agents jerking the Bills around. As he learned, there are layers to the job. That agent pissing off the Bills may represent someone in their building. Or another player they’re pursuing.

“I enjoy coaching way more now,” Brady says, “because there’s no way in hell I could do that.”

The head coach is thrilled with all moves made to smash that wall. Before March, Brady calls the idea of acquiring this talent a “pipe dream.”

Player to player, Brady details what has him excited.

He sees himself in Dee Alford. After the signing, Brady caught up with the team’s new nickel cornerback and learned this Division II product who played in the CFL was out of a job throughout COVID. He worked the night shift at FedEx, trained, stayed ready, got his shot and earned this NFL life. (“This is the type of guy that I want on my team.”) Brady worked with DJ Moore in Carolina, of course, and knows the Bills need a separator in the room. (“Ecstatic to be able to work with him and put him in our crew. I was pumped about that one.”)

Back to his days as a Saints grunt, Brady has made a habit of taking notes on players that gave him fits. Safeties Harrison Smith and Budda Baker earned high praise. Back then, intel was chronicled in a literal notebook. Today, he keeps a running file on his tablet.

Chauncey Gardner-Johnson made the file. He wants this championship swagger on his defense.

Bradley Chubb was a player he took a ton of notes on. Brady and new DC Jim Leonhard view the ex-Bronco, ex-Dolphin as a perfect scheme fit who’ll stay on the field all four downs. The head coach expects Greg Rousseau and Chubb to shut down the edges vs. the run and — another year removed from a torn ACL — for Chubb to invigorate this pass rush. Perhaps most importantly? There was a “C” on his chest. The more Brady spoke to people, the more he realized Chubb was a captain for reasons beyond his play. (“He’ll do wonders for this locker room, this organization.”)

Now, the honeymoon is over.

Last week, I touched base with one ex-Bill who shed light on the HC-QB dynamic in Part III our ’23 series. With five exclamation points, he assures via text that players love Brady. Now, it’s simple. He listed off four unknowns. We’ll see if Brady can handle the surface-of-the-sun heat associated with the job, manage games late, truly lead a roomful of grown men through hard times and surround himself with assistants who’ll cover his blind spots. On this final point, Brady was ecstatic to land longtime New Orleans Saints lieutenant Pete Carmichael as his OC. When Brees is enshrined into Canton, Brady knows the quarterback will be thanking Carmichael. “An absolute stud,” Brady says. “He’s ours now. He was the most important get for me.”

Like the spring of 2013 at William & Mary, Brady applied his offensive brain to defense in hiring Leonhard to stress opposing playcallers.

No coach knows how he’ll handle the job until they’re in the job.

This ex-player’s advice? Be humble “and get out of the damn way.”

“It’s about Josh, the locker room and that city,” this player says. “If he understands that, he will win a trophy. If he thinks it’s about him and he’s special, he will fail to.”

The city is dying for that trophy. One generation endured four straight Super Bowl defeats. The next, a 17-year playoff drought. Now, they’ve got a future Hall of Fame quarterback with nothing to show for it. No QB in NFL history has won more playoff games (eight) than Allen without an appearance in the big game. Brady is fully aware that reaching the Super Bowl is officially the year-to-year expectation.

When I ask what makes him the man for this moment, he admits he hasn’t even thought about the Lombardi Trophy.

When he won a national title at LSU, he never touched the hardware. Never even saw it up close.

He’s sure he’ll feel something if he ever hoists the sterling silver this February.

“I’ve been here long enough to see the impact that it would have on the guys that I coach and this freakin’ city,” Brady says. “That means way more to me. That drives me. I get to coach football, but the people that I get to do it for is what matters to me. And we have such a good locker room. I’ve been fortunate that I’m in a place that I already know the people, both outside the building and in the building. The expectations that this city has? It’s what I have.”

When Brady walked into new Highmark Stadium recently, he was awestruck. It hit him. For as long as this building exists, he is the one calling the first play. Briefly, Brady allows himself to look into the future. The new man in charge may be a refreshing gust of calm who embraces all JA17-centric math, who gets all 53 players to stay in attack mode, who’s prepared for every conceivable scenario.

The ball will be kicked off. The play clock will start winding down. In that exact moment, the gravity of his reality will become very real.

“I won’t be nervous,” he says with a pause. “But an emotion will hit me.”

Sleeping on a mattress — not on a hotel floor — should guarantee maximum focus. (With the help of a Fast Twich or four.)

Perhaps a variation of Dad’s triple option is the ticket.

That is, of course, assuming a backup wide receiver on the sideline isn’t overcome with the sudden urge to sprint onto the field.

Share

Enjoying Go Long? We’d love it if you continued to grow our community.

Since inception, we’ve maintained our independence because of you. No ads. No sponsors. No gambling blood money. We write for you.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

All 12 parts of Bob McGinn’s 42nd annual draft series:

• Part 1, WR: Who’s the next star wideout?

• Part 2, TE: Kenyon Sadiq and the hunt for matchup nightmares

• Part 3, T: Why Francis Mauigoa ‘n co. may define the 2026 NFL Draft

• Part 4, G/C: Why this is the year to draft a center

• Part 5, QB: The Fernando Mendoza Question

• Part 6, RB: Notre Dame’s Jeremiyah Love? ‘The best NFL prospect in this draft

• Part 7, DL: Secure your space-eater

• Part 8, Edge: Deep 2026 class promises to torment quarterbacks

• Part 9, LB: How should an NFL team unleash Arvell Reese?

• Part 10, CB: McCoy? Delane? Hood? Inside the debate at the top...

• Part 11, S: Why Caleb Downs, a ‘slam dunk,’ is one of the best players in the NFL Draft

• Part 12, ST: The kicking revolution is here

Read Part I here.

Share

ORCHARD PARK, NY — He never got nervous as a player. Joe Brady quips he didn’t see the field nearly enough.

As a coach, however, this is his unequivocal strength. Livelihoods are on the line — weekly — and he’s Joe Cool. Those closest to the Buffalo Bills’ new head coach barely see him break a sweat.

“I try not to be rattled because, one, my players see that,” Brady says. “Two, if I’m prepared, like I believe I do, everything will take care of itself.”

Granted, this was not the case Day 1 Meeting 1 as the team’s quarterbacks coach in 2022.

Brady remembers being far too rigid explaining how the Bills would do this and do that. Listening intently, Josh Allen could sense trepidation. As the conversation shifted to changes the Bills would be making in their protections, the team’s QB1 cracked a joke. Brady will leave details up for your imagination. The new coach mentioned a particular number aloud, and Allen chimed in. (“I’ll leave it at that.”)

Laughs filled the room and Brady felt himself loosen up — instantly. This was exactly what he needed.

Josh Allen can throw the football a country mile, bulldoze through linebackers and decimate defenses with a videographic memory. This ability to read a room off the field, however, rivals any skill he brings on it.

“Like, ‘Alright, this guy’s a little uptight in his first meeting. I can calm him down a little bit,’” Brady recalls. “And that’s what he does to any room he walks into, in this whole building. It’s all natural. It’s real. Not many people can have that pulse and be what that room needs. Not in a fake way.”

A season and a half later, Brady was elevated to offensive coordinator.

On a Monday, the Bills lost to the inferior Denver Broncos at home and fell to 5-5.

On a Tuesday, Brady was told he’s the new OC.

On Saturday, he walked into his most important meeting since that first address to the QBs. Brady now stood in front of the entire offense. He wanted guys to know he was ready for this moment, so he shared that story from his high school days. The time he sprinted right onto the field to catch a pass and forever change his life. He wouldn’t be where he is today without this conviction. (“They were probably all asleep,” jokes Brady.) And when it was time to discuss what amounted to a must-win vs. a talented New York Jets defense, he didn’t cast Quinnen Williams as a modern-day Mean Joe Greene, didn’t prop Sauce Gardner up on a pedestal, didn’t discuss this Jets unit at all.

Instead, Brady looked around the room and pointed at specific players in his own room.

Whoever’s on the other sideline needed to contend with the Buffalo Bills.

He reminded everyone: “It’s about us.”

Buffalo then put a nail in the Jets’ coffin with a 32-6 blowout win. After throwing an 81-yard touchdown to Khalil Shakir, a mic’d up Allen snarled: “I feel like I’m fucking back.” Fueled by a resurgent offense, those Bills came within an inch here, a few inches there of playing in the AFC Championship Game. The next season, 2024, Allen won league MVP. The next, 2025, the Bills lost in overtime of the divisional round in Denver.

Sean McDermott was fired.

It’s time for the next most important speech of Brady’s football life.

He won’t lose the plot.

Outside, a blizzard has engulfed Western New York. This climate should gobsmack opponents. Outside, across Abbott Road, that sparkling new stadium will host arguably the greatest player in the sport: Josh Allen. The new philosophy of this organization is quite refreshing. You need to play in Orchard Park. You need to play Josh Allen. Coaches can handle all minutiae, all nitty-gritty crafting of a gameplan and relay that information accordingly. There’s no need to build up any opponent as intergalactic. When it’s time to address the entire team — a roomful of players he’s gotten to know as human beings — Brady will hammer this point home.

“In front of the mass,” Brady says, “when you focus on the other team too much, you lose sight. I want the guys to know going into that game, ‘It is about us.’ They’ve got to play us and not the other way around.”

Because here’s another NFL truth: Players forever take on the personality of their head coach. Brady is not high strung like others in this profession. Imagining himself in that next speech, he brings up Josh Allen, Dion Dawkins and Spencer Brown on offense and Terrel Bernard, Bradley Chubb and Christian Benford on defense and asks aloud: “Why am I going to walk into that game nervous?”

This is where he derives his brazen confidence, his edge.

Everyone will.

He doesn’t plan on coaching scared, so his players won’t play scared.

Go Long is your home for longform in pro football.

We are fueled — 100 percent — by our readers.

Subscribe now

Nobody wanted Joe Brady at that Nashville coaching convention. The William & Mary reserve who caught all of three passes in college willed himself into the cutthroat world of football coaching.

Nobody wanted Josh Allen out of Firebaugh, Calif. He received precisely zero scholarships out of high school, then sent an email to 1,000+ colleges after JUCO. Only Wyoming responded.

Now, this is the HC-QB combination leading the organization. Kindred spirits who both know what it’s like to swipe right until their thumbs bleed without a single connection. The two can relate at a deeper level. Finally, the Bills have alignment where it matters most.

Head Coach and Quarterback must be in lockstep for any team to have a puncher’s chance.

The relationship between Allen and Sean McDermott was never rosy. As first examined in ’23, and explored again post-firing, the head man’s calculus never changed. McDermott did not view No. 17 as the center of this team’s universe, which created unnecessary roadblocks. Those close to this relationship cite those snow angels on ESPN as a red herring, repeating that their personalities were oil and water. Echoing members of the Bills coaching staff past, current sources in the building insist McDermott did not understand he was in possession of one of three greatest players on the planet.

It was bizarre and it took Terry Pegula a while to grasp in full. Eventually, the team’s owner identified the disconnect.

That’s why Allen was granted a seat at the interview table.

The choice was Brady.

At his introductory press conference, Brady professed his love for the quarterback. There’s no denying the fact that — as it pertains to the team’s $330 Million Man — the team’s new head coach gets it.

OK, so Allen is now a married man who’ll turn 30 years old next month. He’s a father of a new baby girl. He’s no longer Shane Gillis 24/7/365 inside the locker room. Jokes about a certain reproductive organ are on the decline. But rest assured. Allen still has his fastball. To this day, Brady is hesitant to answer any question posed by his quarterback because there’s always the distinct possibility that it’s a set-up. “Dude,” the QB will say through a poker face. “I’m asking you a question.”

Brady answers. Brady falls into the trap.

This was a refreshing union for the coach. Granted, Sam Darnold was always liable to drop a Michael Scott “that’s what she said” in the quarterback room. After spending so much time around the ultra-serious, ultra-buttoned up Drew Brees and Joe Burrow, part of Brady wondered if that’s how all of the elites needed to carry themselves at the position. Allen was no cookie cutter. Allen was proof that you can be one of the guys… and lead.

“And he can do things that no one in the world really can do,” Brady adds. “There’s a lot of power to that, but he wants to be coached and he’s a human. I have a lot of love for that man.”

This relationship only strengthened over time.

Allen was extremely close to a coach before, then saw that coach (Brian Daboll) take a head-coaching job with the New York Giants. GM Brandon Beane told us he believes Allen was careful not to get too close to Brady in fear of losing him to another team. All good teams with defensive-minded head coaches rifle through OCs. “It hurt him when Daboll left as the mentor, the father figure, the friend,” Beane said. “He had a great relationship with Joe but might not have let himself get quite as vulnerable as he did with Daboll because I think last year he thought Joe was going to leave.”

Brady turned down the New Orleans Saints job in 2025, then earned this Bills job in 2026.

(Note: For more on this decision to hire Brady, here’s our February piece following a sitdown with Beane and president of business operations Pete Guelli.)

Brady’s vantage point? He saw a quarterback who desired a coach that both cared for him and held him accountable. Allen was tight with Daboll off the field, true. They’d hang out on the back deck late into the night. It was father-son. Daboll could also go scorched earth on him during a game.

“When you’re a player of his level,” Brady says, “you always have to be mindful of who’s real and who’s not. That’s the element that naturally takes time. Even myself, I don’t trust easily. I’m not going to walk into that first team meeting and think I’m going to have everybody’s respect right away. That’s earned. Coaching Josh Allen was no different. I didn’t expect that first meeting where Josh was going to be like, ‘Yep, I’m going to do whatever you say and believe in you and you got all the answers.’ It was like, ‘We’re going to work through this together.’”

Skeptics decry the Brady hire as safe and/or placating the quarterback.

If anything, the opposite is true.

Bringing in a head coach starting at square one with Allen — totally hitting the reset button on such a consequential relationship — could’ve further delayed the quest toward a ring at best or blown up at worst. Brady’s now been in town for four years and two months. From that fragile first meeting to today, he’s gotten to a place where he can rip the quarterback when he should be ripped. Lift him up when he needs lifted.

Remember: Brady grew up on Dad’s tough love himself. Every special HC-QB combo is laced with just the right amount of healthy friction. No different than a successful marriage. I loved this analogy from the excellent Patrick Bet-David in “Your Next 5 Moves.” Show me a husband and wife who never fight, he writes, and that’s a relationship destined for destruction.

If a quarterback knows your intent is pure, it’s a lot easier to have the harsh and necessary dialogue. Pick any famous duo through time. Mahomes-Reid, Brady-Belichick, Favre-Holmgren, Montana-Walsh, Bradshaw-Noll. All had depth.

Brady expects total transparency.

“There’s going to be times on the sideline where we’re going to yell at each other,” Brady says. “There’s a lot of times we don’t agree. That doesn’t change how we feel about one another. We both set a level of accountability to one another. There’s a standard of how it should look. As long as we both can take the blame and we’re not pointing the fingers at one another, we’re good to go. I’ve made bad calls, he’s made right. I’ve made calls and he’s gotten to the wrong play. He’ll own it, I own it and we move on to the next play.”

A far cry from a head coach who wasn’t thrilled that Allen received the bulk of credit (a real thing) and once went ballistic on that quarterback for building a house in Orchard Park. But let’s not digress.

Indeed, there’s an sharp increase in emotional intelligence at One Bills Drive. Players are saying the quiet parts out loud. The day Brady was introduced as head coach, lineman Alec Anderson said: “He wants us to know that we don’t have to have our assholes so tight around him all the time. We can go walk around and be our personalities.” X’s and O’s do matter. The Bills will attack January football with more schematic ferocity. First, Brady knows he must connect with everyone on a level that transcends those X’s and O’s.

He wants to know the person more than the player. Their own sleeping-on-the-hotel-floor defining moment.

He points to James Cook, a man of few words. Where some people may interpret Cook’s stone-cold demeanor as “not caring,” Brady knows better. The two grew up 25 miles apart. “Talk to him out on the football field,” Brady says, “and he’ll say whatever he needs to say.” He cites quarterback dinners. Attending these each Friday night deepened his bond with Allen and the backups. He saw how they interacted with their wives and girlfriends.

“It’s everything,” Brady says. “If you only care about the player, you’re only reaching half of them. There’s so much more. Knowing where they come from. Knowing, ‘Alright, this guy might not communicate a lot. But it’s OK because I know who he is and his personality. When he does this, you reach him in this way.”

For 32 head coaches, life away from football often resembles sporadic clicks of a camera.

Seattle Seahawks head coach Mike Macdonald stated that he spends a half-hour with his son during the week, with a tint of pride. As if it was ample time.

Coaches usually sound like aliens from another planet on the topic of work-life balance. The industry is inherently psychotic. Brady grew up with a (very) involved father and, dammit, he’s trying to thread this impossible needle with a 3-year-old and 5-month-old. Here, Brady admits there’s a ton of guilt in knowing his kids aren’t getting the best version of himself. He hasn’t come up for air since the Bills’ 33-30 overtime loss at Mile High, from interviewing for three different head-coaching vacancies… to scoring this gig amongst nine candidates… to filling out his first coaching staff… to free agency to, now, preparing for the NFL draft. (“No complaints there!”) His dream’s been fulfilled. But recently, Brady was scrolling through pictures from the family’s vacation at the beach last summer — the last time his family spent a string of uninterrupted days together.

Seeing how much his son has grown since then was “depressing,” he admits. Coaching can make any man’s life feel like the Adam Sandler movie, “Click.” Time’s stuck on fast forward. You miss birthdays, buzzer-beaters, daddy-daughter dances, milestones you’ll never get back.

Yet, this is the business Joe Brady has chosen.

Hell yeah, he enjoys it. Every minute of it. He knows there are millions of people who work endless hours at jobs they hate. He gets to watch football.

So, he finds a way.

This spring, Brady has been setting his alarm for 3 a.m. each morning. This gets Brady to the facility by 3:20. That way, he’s working while his kids sleep for three more hours. Wait until 6 a.m. and he knows he wouldn’t be back home until 10. Finding those hidden hours ensures Brady can take over all bath and bedtime proceedings. His baby girl still needs Mom, but Jordan is Dad’s responsibility. And all fellow fathers? Joe Brady is you. He, too, knows the perils and pitfalls of the nightly witching hour. Wait too long, break routine a smidge, and chaos awaits. “Absolute madness,” he jokes. He’ll read book, after book, after book, after book, after book, often turning off the lamp and using his iPhone flashlight as a reading light to ever… so… gradually… see his son’s eyelids finally close for the night.

Brady encourages his assistant coaches to bring their kids to work if they want. As long as they’re not in meetings, he’s got no problem with it. His own son loves it at One Bills Drive. The result, he hopes, is a healthy work environment for all.

No way could Joe Brady have predicted this as his life inside that crammed hotel room 13 years ago. Back when he had zero clue if he’d ever work in coaching. He was one of many. He can still remember the other young coaches at the convention dying to enter this crazy world. A handful blazed a trail. Justin Rascati, the QBs coach at James Madison, was present. Now, he’s the pass game coordinator for the Cincinnati Bengals. Matt Guerrieri, a GA at Duke, is now the safeties coach at Ohio State University. Josh Grizzard was a GA at Duke, too. He’s the pass game coordinator for the Philadelphia Eagles.

The small-school coach honored in Nashville that year, Craig Bohl, took the job at Wyoming before then taking a chance on a hard-throwing gunslinger from Firebaugh.

And at the NFL Combine this past February, Brady ran into a familiar face. It was Ahmaad Smith. “Last I saw you,” Smith told him, “you were sleeping on the floor.”

OK, so Macdonald’s comment might’ve been a tick extreme… but not that extreme. Nobody in the NFL flinched when the clip went viral because everyone understands that winning demands sacrifice.

The 2026 season begins soon.

Brady wants what Macdonald’s Seahawks currently have.

It’ll require more than a nocturnal life.

Subscribe now

Modern playoff games almost always boil down to one or two plays. The chasm between winning and losing is razor thin.

Coaches who master split-second decisions are at the advantage. It’s why the Bills put all candidates through rigorous game-management testing. If one game goes haywire, that’s understandable. Nine years’ worth of January failings is a trend that bakes into the subconscious of an entire organization. Doom becomes the expectation. This is what Pegula was referencing by that “proverbial playoff wall.” I get the general populace going berserk over his Keon Coleman dig. Most people are offended by their own shadow nowadays. But the press conference quote that should’ve caught fire was when the owner got real on McDermott.

“It’s not an easy decision. Trust me,” Pegula said. “But what is success? Is success being in the playoffs seven years in a row with no Super Bowl appearance?”

He let those words hang in suspense.

Nobody knows yet how Brady handles this imperative aspect of the game because there’s no way to simulate fourth and 2 from midfield with 1:35 remaining in front of 60,000 fans. He knows this.

All holistic messaging, however, is supported by action.

During his interview for the job, Brady used the word “attack” often. Up in the booth as a playcaller, he explained, it drove him mad when communication to Allen shut off at the 15-second mark of the play clock and defenses started to disguise and deceive. He wants opposing playcallers to feel this raw helplessness, to scream “F—k!” in horror like he would. Coaches who faced this Bills D years past also informed the team’s brass during the interview process just how stagnant and predictable their defense was to face presnap.

Bend-don’t-break logic doesn’t fly against quarterbacks capable of killing you with a thousand paper cuts.

On 52 non-kneeldown drives in their last six playoff defeats, the Bills have surrendered 25 TDs, 13 field goals and 3.83 points per drive while creating only three turnovers and forcing only 12 punts with one missed field goal.

Offensively, expect changes. Gameplans in the past could become too hyper-focused on the opposition. If the Bills faced an elite passer — like Patrick Mahomes, for example — the edict from above was often to play keepaway. Play safe. Nerves were obvious in the head coach ahead of those Kansas City Chiefs playoff games. Several sources inside the building still diagnose those 13 fateful seconds at Arrowhead Stadium (and the game’s bizarre aftermath) as the moment that broke this franchise’s psychology.

The roster is much different. Now, the head coach is different.

It’s worth noting that Brady wasn’t even around for the team’s debilitating 2021 divisional playoff loss in KC and that he only has glowing things to say about his former boss.

Finally, Buffalo can start anew.

Walking the halls those other six days of the week, Brady won’t resemble a Tin Man. He’s the opposite of tight. He’s the first to point out that this doesn’t mean he won’t make mistakes. His hope is for the Bills to possess enough “competitive stamina” to forget whatever happened the previous day, to shake off an inevitable last-second loss instead of letting it become the team’s identity. Speeches. Play style. Personnel. He plans on doing everything in his power to make such a fearless mentality infectious. Starting… now. Players are officially back for offseason workouts.

It’s “two-fold,” he adds. Brady needs the Bills defense to bring this energy.

“And if we talk about ourselves (on defense) like we’re on a level of Patrick Mahomes and Joe Burrow, then we’re going to be able to play with that mindset,” Brady says. “If we just talk about like, ‘yeah, they’re above us and they’re so much better than us,’ we might start second-guessing: ‘Can I go make that play?’ And that’s why I want the personalities of the guys that are going to come in with that mentality. And it’s not only about Josh Allen, but damn, we got Josh Allen.”

Through the free agency frenzy, Brady sat in on all transactions (and near transactions).

Watching Beane work the phones agent to agent to agent was vertigo-inducing.

There were times the head coach thought the GM should hang up on agents jerking the Bills around. As he learned, there are layers to the job. That agent pissing off the Bills may represent someone in their building. Or another player they’re pursuing.

“I enjoy coaching way more now,” Brady says, “because there’s no way in hell I could do that.”

The head coach is thrilled with all moves made to smash that wall. Before March, Brady calls the idea of acquiring this talent a “pipe dream.”

Player to player, Brady details what has him excited.

He sees himself in Dee Alford. After the signing, Brady caught up with the team’s new nickel cornerback and learned this Division II product who played in the CFL was out of a job throughout COVID. He worked the night shift at FedEx, trained, stayed ready, got his shot and earned this NFL life. (“This is the type of guy that I want on my team.”) Brady worked with DJ Moore in Carolina, of course, and knows the Bills need a separator in the room. (“Ecstatic to be able to work with him and put him in our crew. I was pumped about that one.”)

Back to his days as a Saints grunt, Brady has made a habit of taking notes on players that gave him fits. Safeties Harrison Smith and Budda Baker earned high praise. Back then, intel was chronicled in a literal notebook. Today, he keeps a running file on his tablet.

Chauncey Gardner-Johnson made the file. He wants this championship swagger on his defense.

Bradley Chubb was a player he took a ton of notes on. Brady and new DC Jim Leonhard view the ex-Bronco, ex-Dolphin as a perfect scheme fit who’ll stay on the field all four downs. The head coach expects Greg Rousseau and Chubb to shut down the edges vs. the run and — another year removed from a torn ACL — for Chubb to invigorate this pass rush. Perhaps most importantly? There was a “C” on his chest. The more Brady spoke to people, the more he realized Chubb was a captain for reasons beyond his play. (“He’ll do wonders for this locker room, this organization.”)

Now, the honeymoon is over.

Last week, I touched base with one ex-Bill who shed light on the HC-QB dynamic in Part III our ’23 series. With five exclamation points, he assures via text that players love Brady. Now, it’s simple. He listed off four unknowns. We’ll see if Brady can handle the surface-of-the-sun heat associated with the job, manage games late, truly lead a roomful of grown men through hard times and surround himself with assistants who’ll cover his blind spots. On this final point, Brady was ecstatic to land longtime New Orleans Saints lieutenant Pete Carmichael as his OC. When Brees is enshrined into Canton, Brady knows the quarterback will be thanking Carmichael. “An absolute stud,” Brady says. “He’s ours now. He was the most important get for me.”

Like the spring of 2013 at William & Mary, Brady applied his offensive brain to defense in hiring Leonhard to stress opposing playcallers.

No coach knows how he’ll handle the job until they’re in the job.

This ex-player’s advice? Be humble “and get out of the damn way.”

“It’s about Josh, the locker room and that city,” this player says. “If he understands that, he will win a trophy. If he thinks it’s about him and he’s special, he will fail to.”

The city is dying for that trophy. One generation endured four straight Super Bowl defeats. The next, a 17-year playoff drought. Now, they’ve got a future Hall of Fame quarterback with nothing to show for it. No QB in NFL history has won more playoff games (eight) than Allen without an appearance in the big game. Brady is fully aware that reaching the Super Bowl is officially the year-to-year expectation.

When I ask what makes him the man for this moment, he admits he hasn’t even thought about the Lombardi Trophy.

When he won a national title at LSU, he never touched the hardware. Never even saw it up close.

He’s sure he’ll feel something if he ever hoists the sterling silver this February.

“I’ve been here long enough to see the impact that it would have on the guys that I coach and this freakin’ city,” Brady says. “That means way more to me. That drives me. I get to coach football, but the people that I get to do it for is what matters to me. And we have such a good locker room. I’ve been fortunate that I’m in a place that I already know the people, both outside the building and in the building. The expectations that this city has? It’s what I have.”

When Brady walked into new Highmark Stadium recently, he was awestruck. It hit him. For as long as this building exists, he is the one calling the first play. Briefly, Brady allows himself to look into the future. The new man in charge may be a refreshing gust of calm who embraces all JA17-centric math, who gets all 53 players to stay in attack mode, who’s prepared for every conceivable scenario.

The ball will be kicked off. The play clock will start winding down. In that exact moment, the gravity of his reality will become very real.

“I won’t be nervous,” he says with a pause. “But an emotion will hit me.”

Sleeping on a mattress — not on a hotel floor — should guarantee maximum focus. (With the help of a Fast Twich or four.)

Perhaps a variation of Dad’s triple option is the ticket.

That is, of course, assuming a backup wide receiver on the sideline isn’t overcome with the sudden urge to sprint onto the field.

Share

Share

ORCHARD PARK, NY — Staring down, he taps his foot on the hard carpet underneath his soles. There’s no cushion, no give at all. The sight of something so dull transports Joe Brady back in time. All the way back to Jan. 6, 2013. He was a college senior with exactly zero coaching prospects at the national coaching convention in Nashville.

He was also exceptionally naïve.

Brady knew that his buddy, DJ Mangas, had a hotel room at the convention’s Gaylord Opryland resort and figured he was good to go. The two were college teammates at William & Mary and Mangas, now coaching at D-III Hampden-Sydney, assured Brady he could tag along. Surely, this meant two beds for two guests. Yet when he showed up, Brady realized there were three Hampden-Sydney coaches bunking in this room.

He was the outsider.

There were no blankets to spare. Mangas threw him a pillow.

Brady taps his foot again.

“I was literally on this,” he says.

Somehow, Brady was more distressed during the day than at night. In his mind? Landing a full-time job was a slam dunk at this monstrous convention. Brady had two boxes of business cards printed up and Brady was already emailing his cover letter and resume to coaches coast to coast. He was the overzealous job seeker initiating conversation with everyone. In his mind? It’d only take one. Just one coach amongst the hundreds of D-I, D-II and D-III coaches in attendance to believe.

“Basically doing what the high school kid does with his highlight tape,” Brady says. “Will anybody give me an opp?”

Uh, no.

All cards, all resumes were treated with the tender love and care of junk mail and those annoying fliers pinned underneath a windshield.

He left town thinking he may never coach.

“It was depressing,” Brady says.

Thirteen years later, he landed the most prestigious sports job on the market. The college kid who just might’ve sold his soul to work 100 hours a week as a graduate assistant for Timbuktu Tech is the new head coach of the Buffalo Bills. Nine coaches in all interviewed for the position — Terry Pegula, Brandon Beane and the Bills brass chose the man in their building with zero head-coaching experience on that updated resume. Brady inherits a perennial title contender piloted by an MVP quarterback. A future Hall of Fame quarterback. He was hired to accomplish exactly what his predecessor could not.

Get to a Super Bowl. Win a Super Bowl.

How does he handle this pressure? He points to those three nights in Tennessee.

“By remembering,” he says, “that I slept on a floor in a hotel room.”

He thinks back to defying his coaches as the sixth wide receiver on the high school depth chart. It got him to college. He thinks back to teaching himself how to write scouting reports in ‘13. It got him his first job. He thinks back to how his relationship with quarterback Josh Allen first bloomed. A partnership was born.

“Don’t change who you are just because you got another opportunity,” he continues. “I work with the same mindset.”

That’s a man who walked into the building this morning wearing shorts. It was 15 degrees and snowing. Tall ‘n pale ‘n perpetually bounding room to room on the strength of far too many energy drinks, it doesn’t appear as if his eyebrows have ever tilted in 45-degree rage. Don’t let kindness fool you. In the cutthroat terrain of pro football, Joe Brady has always been a carnivore who seizes the moment. Everyone may think they know the man who’s been calling plays for 2 ½ seasons. Fans love nothing more than the mysterious unknown and Brady — by a landslide — was the most known candidate interviewing to replace Sean McDermott. News of his hiring was initially treated by locals like receiving a new pair of socks on Christmas morning. Well, if those socks were first soaked in the old stadium’s urinal trough on a hot summer day.

There’s always been more to this coach than the wide receiver screen you hate or hook and ladder you love.

Who is Joe Brady?

He’s hesitant to answer, describing himself as a “close-to-the-vest guy.” An introvert. Until one story flows to the next, and the next, and the next, and two hours pass. A portrait sharpens this conversation with Go Long. He’d go even longer if not for his assistant texting that he’s due for a meeting. Time will tell if a total reset was needed. One fact is indisputable. This 36-year-old from South Florida is a striking contrast from the man he’ll replace precisely where it matters for this team at this time. Presented with an opportunity, he does not vacillate and overanalyze until that opportunity passes him by.

Brady attacks.

Go Long is your forever home for longform journalism in pro football.

We are powered — 100 percent — by you.

Subscribe now

His press conferences will likely meander. Brady jokingly crowns himself the worst person to ever speak at a podium because his only goal in that setting is to protect his players.

“I’ll take the blame. I’ll eat it. I’ll praise when it’s good and, when it’s bad, I’ll take it,” Brady says. “But with my guys, I curse a lot. I’m passionate. There is an edge to me that I choose not to show to the outside world.”

That edge is the real story.

An intense confidence rooted in what nobody sees.

“I know how hard I work, how hard the coaching staff works, how hard the players work,” Brady says. “You need an edge going into that game. I’ll set my jaw. I want everybody to know that we’re going to try to make it a game they don’t want to play. I need that persona, that mindset. It’s not fake. It’s who I am.”

Hesitate for one second in high school, in college, in the pros and Brady knows for damn sure he isn’t sitting right here.

He starts the only place he can. The good ‘ol days of youth sports when Dad coached him in everything.

“Man,” Brady begins, “he was hard as hell on me.”

Joe Brady III routinely threw Joe Brady IV out of games, benched him, punished him and… yeah. It was warranted. Son was a ticking time bomb. Son admits his temper ran boiling hot because, plainly, he despised losing. Thinking back, he’s not sure parents even deploy this form of discipline anymore. But if he threw his bat in a baseball game, Brady was told to sit down and write six words repeatedly. I will not throw my bat. I will not throw my bat. I will not throw my bat. A real-life Bart Simpson in detention.

Drives home from practices and games were always contentious.

One baseball season, Brady vividly remembers hoping someone other than his own father drafted him.

Switching back ‘n forth between different sports got tiresome, so he admits his mindset “probably sucked.”

He gives Dad a hard time but relives all of this with immense reverence. Today, Brady hopes he’s home in time for his son’s bedtime routine when he knows his own father was back to throw a ball around every single day. All Joe III wanted for Joe IV is the father-son relationship he never had — and the football future he let slip way. Dad was a star running back in high school, briefly enrolled at Clemson and it didn’t last long. He planned on transferring to Florida State, to walk onto Bobby Bowden’s team, but those plans fizzled. Son only says that Dad “was a knucklehead idiot.” In sum, he didn’t have parents instructing him to suck it up through hard times.

He quit. A lifelong regret.

Eventually, Dad ran his own company but he made a point to tell Joe that if he ended up working for him at Brady Fire Equipment, then he failed as a parent. He pushed him.

Adds Brady: “He wanted me to do more.”

Day-to-day pressure that presented a young Joe Brady with a choice. He could repel, rebel, refuse such a life.

Instead, the two became exceptionally close. Brady knew his father’s heart was in the right place.

South Florida was the perfect sports breeding ground, too. This is where dreams become reality. Thinking back, one reason Brady believes he relates to players and coaches from all backgrounds today is geography. Outside of baseball tournaments in Cooperstown and North Carolina, he never left the state. All while sports constituted his entire life. His grandfather was an original season ticketholder for the Miami Dolphins. The Joes must’ve talked about something other than sports at some point in life, but nothing comes to mind.

To this day, Dad is his most trusted consigliere.

Never matters what time it is. Brady calls him after every practice. If the Bills face the New York Jets that week, they dissect the defense. Joe II isn’t afraid to offer a suggestion or two. Back when Brady was the offensive coordinator at LSU, Dad drew up a triple-option play on the board he thought his son should implement. The ball is handed off to a running back and that running back reads the defensive end. He can either keep it or pitch it back to the quarterback.

Son politely informed his father that LSU’s quarterback was Joe Burrow. Two simple words then had him fuming.

Son dismissed such a design as… “old school.”

“Man,” says Brady, shaking his head, “that pissed him off.”

That fall, naturally, Oklahoma’s Lincoln Riley ran this exact play with quarterback Kyler Murray and Dad texted the video to his son quickly as his thumbs permitted. Old school, huh? Joe IV reminded him that Burrow and Murray are quite different. But later, as the Buffalo Bills’ playcaller this past season, you guessed it, Brady had running back Ty Johnson leading quarterback Josh Allen through the hole in a game vs. the Pittsburgh Steelers. Dad brought it up again.

“He’ll be wrong,” Brady says, “but I don’t know if he’ll admit when he’s wrong.”

The same day the Bills smashed those Steelers, 220 miles away, Brady’s wife gave birth to a baby girl.

He missed it all.

He wants to be a present father to his two kids. It won’t be easy as the new head coach of the Buffalo Bills.

Quarterback was the position he played his entire life. Quarterback was his destiny. In another lifetime, Joe Brady and Geno Smith engage in 48-45 shootouts galore in South Florida. The two attended rival high schools. Those dreams, however, were swiftly dashed ahead of Brady’s freshman year.

Don’t pan your pregame binoculars toward Brady expecting to see whistling fastballs delivered between the numbers of receivers. To this day, he struggles to throw a football. That’s because during a camp at St. Thomas Aquinas, Brady threw out his shoulder. “Dead arm,” he calls it. He paid the price for throwing with all arm — no lower body torque at all — in both football and baseball.

This injury also served as the first major tipping point in his football life.

Brady switched to wide receiver. (“My Dad was just so pissed. You know, here’s this tall, goofy kid: ‘You’re not going to be a wideout.’”) On the JV team, Brady scored touchdowns on his first eight receptions. (Dad was now all-in.) Moving up to the varsity team, there was only one problem. Into his junior year, during a camp in Orlando, a coach called for five wides and didn’t mention his name. The coaches at Everglades High School did not view Brady as one of the five best receivers on his own team. “This is not good,” Brady told himself.

He didn’t transfer, instead choosing to stay ready.

The first drive of the first game that 2006 season — against local power Chaminade–Madonna — one receiver suffered an injury. And before a coach on the sideline even called the name for a replacement, Joe Brady rushed onto the field. Didn’t think twice. Didn’t care. All animalistic instinct told him to go. First play, the quarterback threw him a hitch for eight yards. Brady stayed in the game. Brady caught another pass, then another, and led his team in receiving this 34-13 defeat.

Yes, on the sideline, he was chastised for insubordination.

Yes, he was sent right back to the bottom of the depth chart into Week 2.

He proved a point, too.

That week, Brady was eating a bowl of pasta and meatballs when a coach informed him he’d be starting because a handful of his teammates got in trouble. He scored a touchdown in a 14-7 win over Nova, again led Everglades in receiving and — suddenly — the name Joe Brady ranked near the top of receiving stats in talent-rich Broward County.

Division I football became a realistic destination. He was even asked to do an interview on Miami television.

After fielding questions from a local station, walking back, Brady’s hamstring and glute felt tight. He didn’t think it was a big deal. Brady tried to practice and informed his coach he couldn’t even move. He underwent testing at the hospital, was sent home and nobody was too concerned. The next morning, he tried to get out of bed and fell. He couldn’t even stand on that leg. More testing revealed that Brady needed to be transported to the children’s hospital. ASAP. He had a staph infection, MRSA, and it had gotten into his bloodstream.

On the drive, he asked a paramedic if this was bad. The gentleman did exactly nothing to quell his fears. “There’s a chance you can lose your leg,” he deadpanned.

Brady freaked out, understandably.

“Wait, what?!” he replied. Don’t tell me that!’”

Here at Bills HQ, he points through the window toward a nearby car. Walking that short distance, about 20 feet, would take him 15 agonizing minutes. Nobody knows what caused the infection.

From the hospital that Friday night, he watched his own interview on TV.

Then, the game.

It was heartbreaking.

“For me, I had football,” Brady says. “I was so proud of staying with it, staying locked with it, finally getting an opportunity to go, staying ready when my time came. I was ready. And then finally when I was able to get the opportunity, it was taken away.”

He spent two full weeks in the hospital and lost close to 15 pounds. But with loss, came a totally new perspective on life: Appreciation. One sprint onto the field led to one ball thrown his direction and a sliver of success. Brady realized right then just how much he loved football. Needed football. So he quit baseball altogether to pour all focus, all attention into excelling on the gridiron at Everglades.

“A huge moment in my career,” Brady says, “that is so small.”

One school took notice: the Air Force Academy in Colorado Springs. On his visit, Brady watched highlights of future NFL assistant coach Chad Hall tearing up Notre Dame for 142 yards on 32 carries. Head coach Troy Calhoun had just taken over after coordinating the Houston Texans offense and made it seem as if the Falcons were modernizing into a pro-style offense that’d allow him to flourish out wide.

Brady chose the Air Force and, soon enough, was doing running back drills himself.

He also had broken his wrist in a high school all-star game before stepping foot on campus. Brady didn’t tell anybody because he figured he could tough this out. His first scrimmage with the Falcons, he broke it again and needed surgery.

Football — again — was snatched from him. Only, this time, there was no kicking his feet up on a hospital bed. Brady continued to push his body through hell as a cadet in basic training. He admits he didn’t exactly do his research on day-to-day life at the Air Force. Brady didn’t even eat the first three days of basic training because he didn’t know how to properly ask for food.

Fun was limited. Military life is not the normal freshman college experience.

“But I wish everybody would have to go through a basic training,” Brady says. “When you go from being an 18-year-old to being on your own, and you can’t think for the next eight weeks, it breaks you a little bit. So much of who I am was a product of my upbringing and then the rebranding once I went to the academy.”

If football was going to stay central to his life, though, another aggressive move on the chess board was required. ASAP. One member of Brady’s squadron had the same football aspirations as him, suffered an injury, then never sniffed the field again. A cadet who now attended the Air Force for military purposes only. It spooked Brady. He was here for one reason — football — and feared future recruiting waves would wash him away, too. So, he decided to transfer.

Dad was livid. Dad saw his own life repeating in his son. “Like, ‘Oh my God, this is my life. I can’t F up my son’s life in the same moment,’” Brady recalls. But if there’s a theme to his rise, it’s the melodic blend of hardship and instinctual conviction.

With Dad’s assistance — perhaps too much assistance, he jokes — Brady transitioned to William & Mary.

Leaning back, Brady cannot help but crack a smile and laugh. He did not suddenly live happily ever after.

One week into spring ball under Jimmye Laycock at this FCS school, he broke his foot running a route… against air. Because of course he did. Brady knows how this all sounds and agrees he was an injury-riddled mess. Initially, he thought this was only a sprained ankle. As the new guy going full Rudy Ruettiger to make an impression on the staff, no way was Brady reporting this injury to the training staff. Fresh off that broken wrist, he didn’t want anyone thinking he was brittle. He played doctor. He treated himself. Inside his dorm room, Brady Googled various remedies and learned all about RICE (rest, ice, compress, elevate) in a slapdash attempt to fix himself.

Soon, Brady had no choice but to seek help.

He spent all of spring ball in a walking boot.

The good news? Brady never suffered another injury. Bad news? Brady barely sniffed the field. His name was never invoked by coaches for dynamite plays to be deployed on Saturdays. Rather, a hint of disdain on the scout team. When William & Mary prepared to face the ACC’s North Carolina Tar Heels, Brady snatched an in-breaking route and defensive coordinator Bob Shoop lost his mind. Brady imitates Shoop’s scratchy voice here to a T. “Repeat the play!” the coach shouted. “If Joe Braaaaa-deee is catching balls on us, what do you think North Carolina’s going to do?!”

Says Brady: “I was like, ‘Damn, Shoop!’”

NFL ball was not an option. Sorry, pops.

In four seasons with the Tribe, he caught all of three passes for 34 yards.

“Balling,” he says. “I can name all those catches.”

When Brady thought he’d finally get a shot at substantive offensive snaps, into his junior year, William & Mary brought in a wide receiver who was clearly more talented: Tre McBride. Rather than treat McBride as a dragon to slay or toil in self-pity, Brady (again) manufactured an opportunity. He genuinely tried to coach up a kid out to render him obsolete. McBride was skeptical. At first, he couldn’t trust a teammate who was this helpful, this generous. But for Brady, the relationship was an awakening. He understood exactly how to run routes — releases off the line, stems at the top of routes, etc. — but physically could not do it.

Now, in a way, he could play vicariously through a 6-foot, 210-pound weapon from McDonough, Ga. McBride heeded every morsel of advice, took Brady’s spot, and blossomed into one of the school’s best offensive players ever. After catching 64 passes for 809 yards with four scores, he was drafted by the Tennessee Titans and kicked around the league for five teams.

Too often, Brady would get knocked off a route, ask “What should I do differently?” and simply hear a coach tell him to do something different.

He embraced life teaching the why. This was a calling.

“The moment,” Brady says, “I was like, ‘Alright, I need to coach.’”

Of course, Brady was also a double major at William & Mary, the second-oldest institution of higher education in the United States next to Harvard. This school’s been around since 1693. Undergrads don’t kill themselves over midterms and dissertations here to become a coach. They’re seeking six- and seven-figure jobs at Fortune 500 companies, not shameless QC gigs demanding 100 hours a week for humiliating pay. Sane third parties on campus — professors, classmates, etc. — considered this a harebrained master plan.

“Like, what a waste of education,” Brady says. “And I don’t mean that in a negative way. But you don’t go to William & Mary to be like, ‘Hey, I’m going to go be a coach now.’ I could have just done that anywhere.”

Yet, he craved the sport’s entry-level serfdom and all insomnia, all microwavable dinners that came with it.

Which brings us back to that concrete-soft carpet.

He’s one of 32 head coaches. Elite company. The face of an organization. But if this was Joe the Janitor or Joey Ticket Sales, there’s a good chance a member of the Buffalo Bills’ security staff would stop this employee in his tracks on the walkway to ask a.) why he’s up at 3:20 a.m.; and b.) why he’s wearing shorts in freezing temps.

This is no performance for social media. It’s who Joe Brady’s always been. Ask any player inside this Buffalo Bills locker room about Brady and they’ll inevitably cite his magnetic energy. How he’s a relentless tidal wave of positivity.

For a team led by the same man the last nine years, it’s severely needed. And natural.

I ask Brady where this all comes from, and he points to this all being an innate passion.

“When people are around me,” he says, “I think they can feel that. I’m not trying to be energetic. I’m not trying to be a hoo-rah guy. I’m trying to be myself. But people can feel that. I’m getting to live my dreams and do exactly what I want to do and, honestly, where I want to do it. That makes it easy. You get to come to work and it’s not like I have to be like, ‘Ugh. Here we go. I’m going to have to put on a show today.’ Yeah, I drink a lot of caffeine, but there’s no fake…”

A lot of caffeine, as in… how much today exactly? Well, Brady needed to get his blood drawn so it’s been a mild morning. An espresso, caffeine gum and, finally, Gatorade Fast Twitch No. 1 are powering him through. The caffeine element of this energy drink beverage is real — each bottle contains 200 mg of caffeine. He’ll typically drink three or four per day. And two Espresso’s. And two MEG Caffeine Gum pieces.

That’s the offseason.

During the season, those numbers all go up.

Brady does replenish his system with ample H2O, and the team nutritionist assures he’s got nothing to worry about. The same probably cannot be said for the coach calling himself “C12” in Foxborough.

Subscribe now

Moments later, he’s still thinking about that “energy” question and pinpoints a day he’ll never forget — Jan. 6, 2013 — because it was the same day rookie Robert Griffin Jr. tore up his knee in the NFC wild card. His buddy, DJ Mangas, grew up a diehard Washington Redskins fan and they watched this game on at TV at the Gaylord Opryland Resort in Nashville on Day 1 of that American Football Coach Association (AFCA) convention.

Those fruitless three days were the turning point of his entire life.

Mangas, a year older, was already coaching quarterbacks at D-III Hampden-Sydney. Brady toted a bag of nice clothes, business cards and a notebook with the expectation, teetering on a full-fledged guarantee, that he’d land a job of his own in this psychotic world of coaching. Upon arrival, he realized he wouldn’t even have his own bed. Two of Mangas’ fellow coaches packed in the room, too.

Hampden-Sydney DC Wes Dodson had booked the room for himself, Mangas and fellow assistant Ahmaad Smith.

The convention rotates to a new city each year. Many speeches are given. Notepad in hand, Brady took copious amounts of notes. (Still has those notes, too.) He remembers Shannon Dawson, West Virginia’s offensive coordinator, discussing wide receiver technique. The previous year, Tavon Austin and Stedman Bailey tore up the Big 12. A coach from North Dakota State, Craig Bohl, was honored as the FCS Coach of the Year. At one point, the ex-William & Mary DC Shoop took a crew to a nice breakfast spot. He now coached at nearby Vanderbilt.

Wisdom was shared by all. Brady was a sponge.

Brady was also here with one goal in mind: Get a damn job.

He received a tinge of interest from FCS Marist and D-II Findlay (Ohio) before both admitted they couldn’t seriously consider him because he was still in school.

Room to room, Brady encountered mobs of young coaches gunning for jobs and promotions — a humbling reminder that he was not alone. Any 23-year-old seeking a job can feel like a guppy lost in a sea of candidates. Schools and schools of coaches swim into the same speeches… engage in the same small talk… take the same notes. An intimidating scene. Those pre-NIL days, stacks of cash weren’t piled in the coffers. “Analyst” positions weren’t concocted out of thin air. Colleges had a finite number of positions available.

“Oh my goodness,” says Dodson, now the head coach at D-III LaGrange. “There’s just so many people. That’s what people don’t understand. The coaching profession is not easy to get into because there’s more coaches than there are jobs.”

Dodson remembers booking the room. Details are hazy. He, too, had slept on his share of floors and chairs over the years. But even though he had coached at William & Mary himself in the past and his stepson played at the school, Dodson never met Brady before. Never even spoke to him before the kid showed up.

Brady’s energy stood out. He was “on the run” nonstop.

To this day, with pride, Dodson tells colleagues: “Joe Brady slept on my floor.”

“You can tell people that are always willing to just go and talk to people — they’re going to make something of themselves,” Dodson says. “They’re not afraid to go get something if they want it. That’s what you do as a young coach. Any way you can find a room to sleep in, you find a way. And that’s what he’s done. He found a way.”

Still, in the moment, the trip felt like one gigantic swing and miss. Nobody at this de facto job fair understood the Real Joe Brady. Upon landing back to Williamsburg, Va., he could’ve pivoted and put his education to use. Coaches across America most certainly threw his business cards into the trash. He only received a handful of automatic replies on email. Three collegiate receptions at a small school don’t exactly send a bat signal. Everyone in life must come to grips with football passing them by. It’s sad.

Yet, Brady did not bail. Brady refused to stay discouraged for long. Much like a 17-year-old quarterback on the other side of the country, in Firebaugh, Calif., reaching out to every Division I football coach he possibly could and hearing nothing back this same year.

He took a deep breath and looked around. The Tribe hired a new OC in Kevin Rogers this spring. Brady viewed this as another chance to learn. The longtime coach had Donovan McNabb at Syracuse and Brett Favre with the Minnesota Vikings. Brady loitered around Rogers’ office as much possible, soaking up as much knowledge as he could. Right around then, one of the Tribe’s assistant coaches on defense, John Bowes, took a new job at Fordham.

Brady walked into Laycock’s office to say he wanted a job. “He laughed at me,” Brady recalls, “and told me to get the hell out of his office. ‘Beat it geek,’ in so many words.” It wasn’t personal. Laycock explained to his backup wide receiver that this isn’t something he does. Never before had Laycock hired one of his players directly to the staff.

“Well,” Brady told him, “I’d be a great first.’”

Brady kept hanging around… hanging around… and chipped in with spring ball.

The reason Laycock shunned his own players fresh off the graduation stage is that he didn’t want assistants coaching their buddies. He believed in a healthy separation between church and state. There’s a first for everything. Both DC Scott Boone and D-Line coach Trevor Andrews thought Brady had potential. Put him on defense, they told Laycock, and he would be with a totally different crew. Boone saw a promising “football junkie.” The head coach started warming up to the idea and, as graduation loomed, informed Brady that he was bringing in three coaches to essentially audition for a linebackers position. He’d be one of the candidates.

At some point, Laycock would then decide who gets the job.

He told Brady to get the heck out of dodge after graduating. Relax. Recharge his batteries.

Yeah, right. No chance was Brady going to decelerate now.

All coaches on staff hit the recruiting trail and Brady stayed right inside the football offices preparing for his one shot. He studied the Tribe’s playbook to biblical proportions, teaching himself defensive football. He looked ahead, too. Brady authored detailed scouting reports on every single one of William & Mary’s 2013 opponents. He knew diddly poo about playing linebacker, but Brady applied what he did know — offense — to each report. The Tribe’s first opponent was West Virginia. The year prior, his old high school foe in Miramar, Fla. (Geno Smith) lit up defenses. He explained how the Mountaineers incinerated defenses.

Brady knows himself, too. He would’ve gone insane back home in waiting mode.

All instinct told him to stay right there inside those offices and teach himself how to break down tape.

“So when those coaches came back, everything was ready for them,” Brady says. “Just go. Just go. Why am I going to go away and let two other guys have an opportunity at the job?’ And I didn’t sit there and think like, ‘Oh, if I’m sticking around, it’s going to be my job.’ But, one, where am I going to go? I get to be in the office and learn the defense. I looked at it as, ‘Here I am as an offensive coach. I can bring value. I might not bring any value as a defense. I probably didn’t know anything like looking back. But I thought I could bring value as an offensive-minded guy on defense.”

Nobody told Brady to sprint onto the field for that eight-yard hitch at Everglades.

Nobody advised he sleep on a hotel floor.

Nobody made him stay at school and prepare scouting reports.

He sees an opportunity, smells blood, leaves zero doubt.

“I got the job, basically, by not leaving,” Brady says. “I was the grinder. You figure out what everybody needs and do that. Your job is to try to make everybody’s life easier.”

When coaches returned to campus, the reports were done. They were stunned. Brady remembers Boone putting it bluntly to the head boss. “Shit,” he said, “we might as well hire him.”

Brady watched clinic tape of Penn State’s Tom Bradley to learn this funky new position. He had talent in his room. Luke Rhodes has been the Indianapolis Colts’ long-snapper for 10 years and counting. It also helped that the DC, Boone, coached linebackers.

Cite the harsh reality of this industry to Boone — how those clinics are flooded with candidates — and he interjects.

“There’s a bunch of guys that want to coach, but there’s not that many guys who want to be a coach,” says Boone, now a special teams coach at Duke. “We talk about it all the time. There’s guys who are fans with whistles and guys who are coaches. And guys who are coaches don’t get caught up in all the things: the gear, the trips, the travel, the hotel. They get caught up in the ball.

“You can’t dip your toe in it. You’ve got to jump in with your full body. And Joe — early — was one of those guys.”

Endorsing Brady was a no-brainer — because of this work ethic — but then his offensive acumen popped. Defensive coaches thought they knew what offenses were trying to accomplish on certain plays. Inside meetings, Boone says, the young Brady often corrected them. “That’s not really what is happening,” he’d say. “They’re doing this to create this matchup.” He was right. That season, William & Mary’s defense held opponents to 10 points or less in six games.

Boone saw a young coach dying to learn and evolve. Every day.

“That’s probably why his track has been as fast as it has,” he says.

No kidding. When Boone headed to Nevada into 2014, Brady assumed autonomy over those linebackers for a full season and his career then took off like a rocket ship.

To Penn State as a grad assistant. Shoop, the coach needling him as a player, was the DC who helped bring him to Happy Valley.

To the New Orleans Saints as an offensive assistant. He treasured access to an all-time great coach (Sean Payton) and quarterback (Drew Brees).

To LSU as the pass game coordinator. Pressure was high. Heading into that 2019 season, Brady knew that his boss, head coach Ed Orgeron, was squarely on the hot seat with an 11-11 record through two seasons. If his offense stunk it up? Coach O was getting fired. Brady had never called one play before in his life. “Just like that guy running out on the field,” Brady recalls. “Don’t change who you are just because you got another opportunity.” LSU humiliated defenses weekly en route to a national title. Burrow enjoyed one of the finest seasons in college football history. Just like that, he was the new boy wonder in this profession.

To the Carolina Panthers as an OC. The same season his greatest weapon (Christian McCaffrey) barely played and his quarterback play was bottom tier, Brady squeezed 1,000-yard seasons out of four players: D.J. Moore, Robbie Anderson, Curtis Samuel and Mike Davis. But this 1 ½-year run was a crash-landing to that proverbial carpet. A nightmare. Brady’s tone changes from biographical to introspective thinking back to his time as the youngest active offensive coordinator in the league. Ego entered the equation.

The 30-year-old Brady thought he needed to act a certain way and admits he did not make his job about the players. Scheme dictated all in his mind.

“If I try to be someone that I’m not, if I try to act like someone that I’m not, if I try to think I have all the answers, I’ll fail,” Brady says. “And in elements of myself, I did that in Carolina. I told myself if I ever get that opportunity again, I’m not going to do that.

“That’s not who I am. Don’t get me wrong, I love going into the office and drawing stuff up. But when I’m with my guys, I need them to know that it’s not about the scheme. We’re going to win because of you guys.”

Coaches can go through their 30s, their 40s, their 50s and never accept that players should take precedence over plays. This concept is a central theme in Michael Silver’s excellent “The Why is Everything.” Kyle Shanahan quickly gained notoriety as the sport’s most inventive play designer, but it took years for the San Francisco 49ers brainiac to value the gifts of individual players ahead of those X’s and O’s devised in the middle of the night. Bring up Shanahan’s name and Brady points out a key distinction.

Shanahan was winning and winning before finally evolving.

“I had to fail for that to happen,” Brady says. “How many times did Shanahan fail? The best thing that ever happened to me was getting fired.”

Brady did not want to chase another OC gig. Not yet.

He needed a total reset and coaching quarterbacks for the Buffalo Bills made perfect sense. Everyone else in town — OC Ken Dorsey, QB Josh Allen, etc. — knew the offense better than him, which forced Brady to open his eyes and reexamine offensive football. One thing went right in Carolina. Sam Darnold, one of his rotating Panthers QBs, must’ve enjoyed something about his coaching. Because if Darnold trashed his name to Allen, a close buddy, no way he gets this job.

Heading into Orchard Park, Brady knew all about Allen, the player.

He didn’t know Allen, the person.

That changed immediately.

Share

Subscribe now

Read Part II here.

Related:

Right about now, NFL teams are zeroing in.

Scouts are banging the table for prospects they believe in. Some GMs are listening. Others are not. Coaches certainly are chiming in, too.

Decisions made this month will shape franchises.

Bob McGinn’s draft series is now complete. Subscribers can read all 12 parts.

This week, I chatted with one of the best former players breaking down the draft: Chris Simms. Audio and video of our conversation is here.

For those who prefer, our conversation is transcribed below.

Topics include:

• Not giving a damn what people think.

• Why he believed in Patrick Mahomes before anyone else.

• Fernando Mendoza = Joe Burrow?!

• His favorite player in the draft? Georgia WR Zachariah Branch is up there.

• Why Arvell Reese would be his pick at No. 2 overall if he’s running the New York Jets. He sees the next Micah Parsons.

• “Psychos.” You’ve got to have ‘em in today’s NFL. What are the telltale signs for scouts?

• Buffalo Bills’ 2026 offseason. Simms weighs in on Sean McDermott’s firing, the changes on defense and the addition of DJ Moore.

Subscribe now

Share

Most of the world knows Chris Simms dissecting football. I go back to 2005, that Tampa Bay team that could have won it all. And you opened up on your life, your career on this show a few years back. Which, my God, you talked about almost bleeding out on a football field. But I know that Chris, the football player, which shouldn’t get lost. And then as a human being, you are an absolute mench. I remember hanging out in New York City in our B/R days. As down to earth as it gets in a business full of egos.

Simms: I appreciate that. Yeah. It’s something, again, it’s actually part of the struggle of sometimes fighting in this business because, as you know, I’m opinionated, too. And I work hard at it and love at it. Love the sport. And watch film and draft and free agency and all of that, but it can lead to unpopular opinions at times. And then people then go, “Wait, I don’t like him as a person just because of a football thought.” And we’ve crossed that line too much. And it’s a tough part of the business at times because you do feel like people sometimes judge you for, “Yeah, I said something unpopular and you don’t like it because it doesn’t match up with your private logic and now you’re going to attack me as a person?” So it is nice to have some people defend me that way at times. I appreciate you saying that, man.

For whatever reason, the masses, the mobs treat pro football like life and death more than actual life and death. We run into it at Go Long with our reporting from time to time. I guess it’s what makes us viable. That’s why people watch and read and subscribe — they care deeply about the NFL. But it can get a little nutty out there. You’re not persuaded by the mob.

Simms: I don’t give a shit about it. If you’re going to be good at the business, you can’t care about that. One, I always tell people, you’ve got to work, you’ve got to study it, you’ve got to love it, right? You’ve got to form your own opinions. And you’ve got to have your own knowledge. And then when you have your own knowledge, you can let your personality come out because you’re not bullshitting. So you’re not going, “Oh, wait, let me think of the next BS line I can throw out there that makes sense of the BS I’m spewing.” So it allows me to be free that way. I care to a degree, right? When someone starts going, “Oh, you’re a racist just because you say something about football.” I’m like, “What? We’re going to go that crazy on this right here.” OK, yeah, to that degree, I care at times. Because I certainly don’t want to be viewed as that or that negatively.

But when it comes to football and all that, definitely not. I’m confident in my knowledge of the game. I know a lot of people in the sport. I’ve got some friends that are very high up in the NFL world. I’ve been around it my whole life. I’ve seen it and all that to where, yeah, I can feel good and confident about what I said. I’m not always right, but not going to worry about what Joe the Plumber on Twitter says from his Mom’s basement. I can block that noise out.

Take us into your process. When you transition into draft season — to get a handle of this class — where do you begin?

Simms: It’s always one of the most stressful times of the year. My regular season’s crazy. I’m breaking down games all year long. I do a college football show on Saturday because the NBC has the Big Ten and Notre Dame. So I’m on a pregame show there. Super Bowl happens, and the week after the Super Bowl is reaction to the Super Bowl. Then I actually get four or five days off and then it’s like right back to the NFL Combine. And it’s like, “Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, I’ve got to start diving in on the draft. I’m behind on the draft guys compared to most of the people that live in that genre.” If you’re going to listen to me on the draft, I’m really more about like the top 150 and then some. If you want to know who’s the hidden gem in the sixth round, that’s really not going to be where I’m going to be.

But here’s my process. I get a list from three different teams and I ask them to give me their Top 20 at each position and they give to me in alphabetical order. I don’t see grades or anything like that. No team’s going to just give me their grades and free information and go, “Hey, here’s our scouting chart. Go ahead and feel free to talk on TV.” So within that, yeah, Top 20 at each position, three different teams. Their lists are very similar. There might be one to two, maybe three guys that are like, “Oh, this team has this guy on there and this team didn’t have them on there.” So I can generally anywhere between 20 and 25 guys per position and then I go through it. Now, it depends how NBC lays it out as far as the positions I need to rank first and go through it there, but that’s kind of how I start my process. And then as I watch film and I go through notebooks and I’m a writer, I write about a page at least on each player that I evaluate. And I go through games and I watch some cut-ups. I don’t think that’s a crazy process. I think sometimes maybe the way I see and evaluate things might be a little different than maybe some of the other draft pundits that are out there.

It’s kind of a blend of you’re talking to people in the NFL, you’re watching the film, and you played the game, you played the position, so you’re able to tap into everything.

Simms: I’ll stop you there. I don’t talk to people in the NFL until after my thoughts are made. Even my best friends, they’re not going to go, “Hey, we were watching today. I think the top five guys are this, this, and this.” No, usually you know how secretive these teams are and how quiet. I have to kind of put myself out there and then that lends it to conversations with my other friends that are out there. But I don’t ever tinker with my rankings. I leave them. And then as we go here — because I’m just off of film. I don’t know about injury, I don’t know about off the field, I’m not at that point. I’m just about what I see on film. And as I get closer, I’ll give people like, “Hey, the NFL likes this guy more than I do.” Or, “Hey, I’m hearing my No. 2 receiver has got some off the field issues, so that’s going to hurt him a little bit.” But that’s not what I do. So yeah, generally with my draft stuff, no, it is all me. It’s not hearsay, it’s nothing. And then that kind of strikes conversations from there with the people I’m closer to in the NFL.

That’s interesting. Well, I mean, maybe your buddy Kyle Shanahan should have listened to you a few years back. You were on this show dissecting Trey Lance. You were the skeptic.

Simms: I thought you were going to talk about Patrick Mahomes. That was really my first one. That year, I going “Patrick Mahomes…” — I was working at Bleacher Report. I thought he’s the best player in the draft. If you gave me the No. 1 pick, I’m taking Patrick Mahomes, which was not a popular talking point at the time. During those times, I even had people in the NFL like, “You’re crazy. Patrick Mahomes, the No. 1 pick?” So yeah, that’s the way it goes. With Trey Lance, that was a hit-and-miss draft. I liked Zach Wilson, of course. That was the draft I had him as the No. 1 guy over Trevor Lawrence. So I get dragged for that. But I also remind people like Zach Wilson was No. 2 on everybody’s board. It wasn’t that crazy. But yeah, within that draft too. Trey Lance, Justin Fields, I worried about their ability to be high-level throwers of the football. And I think that’s come out to be pretty true from that standpoint and the Trey Lance thing especially, yes.

I almost forgot about how you were really on Patrick Mahomes.

Simms: That was my first thing. There’s two things that happened in our early days of Bleacher Report. The first draft I was a little bit a part of was the Teddy Bridgewater, Johnny Manziel, Blake Bortles draft (in 2014). And that was one of my first ones to be like, “What? Derek Carr is better than those three. I know that.” So that’s what I was like, “This is a little overrated, this group.” So that was one of my first. But then the Mahomes one a few years later, I almost feel indebted to him. And he’ll say that. We have kind of a relationship because he’ll say like, “Hey, you were the first one in the media to talk about me that way.” And I go, “Yeah. And the fact that you proved me right has helped me out a lot in my career.” So with that — and then Josh Allen to follow it up — those are two that those are my buddies. I feel like they’re like my kids to a degree for what they’ve done to my career there.

Have you talked to Terry Pegula about it? He loved Mahomes, gosh, back to that October of his last year at Tech.

Simms: I never did, no. I did not. And even through that where, my Mahomes thing and when I first said it, I had people in scouting departments like, “What? Mahomes one? You’re crazy.” After the fact, I find out, of course, Sean Payton was about to trade for Patrick Mahomes and the Kansas City Chiefs one-upped him and traded in front of them. And I had heard through that process, after I had made those comments, I had somebody from the Saints go like, “Hey, our coach likes Mahomes a whole lot, too.” And then after the draft, the Chiefs told me one of the things that kind of got them and got everybody — not that I was the selling point — but a little bit of just like, “Hey, look Simms thinks he’s really damn good, too.” For the people that were maybe questioning it a little bit in the organization. So yeah, it was definitely a cool moment in my life and thank God to my homie, Patrick Mahomie for being such a baller.

Share

Andy Reid saw some Brett Favre in him, but there’s probably some thought in the back of even his mind, “I’m not going crazy, am I? What am I missing here? This is what my eyes tell me. Am I losing my mind because everybody else doesn’t see him this way?”

Simms: Exactly right. And then with quarterbacks and where we misevaluate a whole lot — and you talk about the process — is we draft the team or we draft the emblem on the helmet. And that’s usually when you have your busts. Because one of the things about Mahomes was, “He’s not a winner. He’s 4-7.” Well, damn, I didn’t know he had to play defense, block, run the ball, get down on special teams. Shit, I didn’t realize he had to do it all. Yeah, you need some help. And then people would go, “Well, what about this game?” The big game with Mahomes that year was TCU. And here’s some of my evaluation, too. OK, yeah, it wasn’t a great game. But when you watch not a great game, you’ve got to be realistic about it. You’ve got to go, “Wait, was there plays to be had? Were there people open that he missed? Were there reads that he missed? Oh, no. Oh, no. Then they got their ass whooped and that defense was all over them.”

Instead, sometimes we’ll look at a guy and go, “Whoa, look at those stats. He threw for 300 yards today.” And I could turn on a film and go, “Yeah, he threw for 300, they lost and he should have thrown for 450 and had three more touchdowns, but he underthrew this guy and missed this guy.” And so that’s where I think evaluators miss at times. The wins, the losses, we draft the school instead of just a player itself. And that’s where Tua happens or a Matt Leinart or a Tim Tebow where we go, “Wait, are we drafting the whole team of Florida and Alabama or are we just drafting the quarterback?” Because what I see there is not all that special. But when I see him throw it four feet into the flat to Reggie Bush and he runs for 90 yards, I go, “Wow, that’s a great play by Reggie Bush.” But a lot of the public’s like, “Look at Matt Leinart dicing ‘em up.” That’s how a bust can happen in the first round.

I’ve got to think that’s the feather in the cap of Fernando Mendoza. Where was Indiana Football before his arrival? What do you see in the player who’s going to go No. 1 overall?

Simms: He’s one of the cleanest quarterback prospects to come out in a long time. He’s slam dunk. He’s pro ready. He played in a pro offense. He was coached by a pro in Cignetti. He plays pro-style football within the pocket and then he can get out and make plays outside the pocket much more than people give him credit for it. That’s what I would say. And then his arm. His arm is big time. I’m not going to say it’s Mahomes or Josh Allen, but he can make big-time power throws with great ease. Size is a skill. You like Josh Allen. His size affords him the luxury to do things that Kyler Murray can’t. Josh Allen could have somebody grabbing his shoulder and he could still throw a 20-yard out route and put pace on it. Tua and Kyler Murray can’t do that. They’re going to fall to the ground and get sacked. So the size is a part of it. And Mendoza — with people around him or hitting him — he’s phenomenal. He can throw off his back foot as he’s about to be hit and still throw a 20-yard out route strike right on the money.

So yeah, I’m a big fan of Mendoza. Mendoza’s like, to me, it’s almost like Joe Burrow where you’re like, “Whoa, it’s just incredible.” The reads, the knowledge and how he sees defenses, it’s very next level for a college guy and clearly the No. 1 quarterback in this class for me.

Joe Burrow in the same sentence as Fernando Mendoza. High praise.

Simms: Yeah, the processing. He’s got some of that. And I think you probably know this, too. Mendoza’s got a little of that Peyton Manning too. He’s prepared for everything. I did an interview with him. I feel like he did research on me the night before, wrote a few notes and he acts like, “Hey, Chris Simms,” and he probably knew my whole family history and everything about that. But I don’t hold that against him. That to me is being prepared. That’s why he is who he is. And then yeah, the processing, like I used to say about Burrow, I’d be like, “Damn, he looked at one, it wasn’t open. He looked at two, it wasn’t open.” And he’d be starting to throw to three and you’d be like, “Wait, wait, you barely have looked there.” But he was right every time. And that’s to me what some of Mendoza has.

I watched the playoff run and saw clips and loved the Heisman speech and all of that. But I almost feel like that Shaquille O’Neal meme: I was not familiar with your game. He’s a got a gun. The deep outs. A+ arm. They did a lot of RPO stuff, which you wonder how that will translate. If there’s a Ty Simpson army that would rather have him as a quarterback, they see more of a pro-style offense and he did a little bit more of that than Fernando Mendoza. But his arm would be applicable to any scheme and he seems smart enough to handle it all.

Simms: Right, right. Exactly. He’s a nerd. And I say that in the most glowing way possible. That’s what’s amazing about him and Kirk Cousins together on the Raiders. It’s like they’re the same human except Mendoza’s bigger and has more physical talent. But they know who they are, they own it. And within that funky nerdiness, they’re extremely charismatic and awesome to be around. Guys where I’d go, “Yeah, you might not smokey, smokey, drinky, drinky with Chris, but I think we’d have a lot of fun and have a lot of laughs together that way.” And that’s what’s cool about them. And yeah, you bring up the RPOs, a lot of RPOs. But I think where that is conducive is it is somewhat of a play-action pass. And Klint Kubiak coming from that Shanahan system is all about that. And then the ability to do that and read it and process it and then throw those tight window throws and be on the money in the short passing game the way he is, he’s special in that department. And that’s where I think that the transition will be quite easy for him.

Personality-wise, Kenny Stabler, this is not. I just laugh. Fernando Mendoza as a Raider, how does that really play in the locker room? Russell Wilson wasn’t beloved by all. It’s different in there. It’s a different ecosystem.

Simms: As long as you’re yourself. And I think that’s where Russell Wilson hit some troubles at times because I think people up in Seattle back in the heyday, they just thought, “Hey, this doesn’t seem real. It seems kind of Fugazi and he’s trying to play a part.” …You have to own who you are. And that to me is what Kirk Cousins, again, yeah, he’s not going to be going to the club with the guys on a Friday night. No, he’s not going to do that. But they know who he is and they trust him to lead their football team and he owns who he is. And then still has enough personality to go around and talk and be personable and be one of the guys, especially on a day-to-day basis. And that’s where meeting the guy helps out. And that’s where you watched Mendoza all year, and there was all this good stuff, but then meeting him in person and just how natural and easy and nice and he just owns who he is all the way, you just go, “This is going to translate just fine in the locker room.” And not everybody wants their quarterback to be best buddies and hanging out, drinking beers with the rest of the team.

Sometimes the guys in the locker room are like, “No, you’re the quarterback. You need to go in there and study some film and be a nerd!” And so there’s that aspect too that I think a lot of people admire about him.

I love that point. Josh Allen is one of the guys. You want to run through a wall for Josh Allen. He treats it like his backyard, all that. But every team is different. Every situation is different. And at the end of the day, if he’s throwing for 4,000 yards and 30 touchdowns and winning games.

Simms: Nobody gives a damn.

Who’s your favorite prospect in this whole draft? It could be a highly touted guy, a hidden gem. You just can’t get enough of this prospect, any position.

Simms: That’s a good one right there. So let’s see. I love the Rueben Bain down in Miami. I love Rueben Bain. To me, Rueben Bain’s one of the best pass rushers in the draft. The guy, to me, who’s the No. 2 pick, slam dunk, is Arvell Reese. I’m blown away. I know everybody knew about Arvell Reese. I didn’t really realize how awesome of a football player he was until I really broke it down. The way he plays middle linebacker, he’s unbelievable in the scrum between the tackles. He’s physical as hell, He’s twitchy as hell. And then when you watch his pass rush stuff, there might not be a lot of it, but there’s enough on there to go, “Whoa, that’s like next level, special right there.” So those would be the star ones that I love.

If I gave you some that are under the radar a little bit, all right. I love Zachariah Branch from Georgia. He was one of my top five receivers. He’s not known to be in a lot of people’s top five, but the Saints last week, they worked him out. So I think he’s going to be maybe somewhere in the second, maybe third round. But he’s one of the guys I look at where, again, we talked about earlier the evaluation process, you put Zachariah Branch of Georgia in some of these more high-flying offenses? I know he was at USC before. You put him at USC with that quarterback in that offense and let him have the touches that Makai Lemon had, I think we’d be talking about, “Oh, Zachariah Branch is very Jaylen Waddle-like. Is he a first- round pick?” He’s special. So he’d be one of those guys I’d look at to go, “Yeah, I kind of got a man crush on him and what he does.” That’s certainly one of them right there.

Cliff Branch’s nephew. That’s got to mean something.

Simms: This is where you look at it and you just go, “Wait, the stats are pretty good.” But we know Georgia, they’re not about high-flying offense. They play defense. They like to run the ball. They’re balanced that way. So you watch it and he doesn’t get afforded some of the opportunities some of the other guys do. But he’s made for the NFL. And like I said, the guy I kind of came back to a few times when I watched him, I went like, “Hey, if he was at Alabama with Jerry Jeudy and some of those other receivers and Tua and the running game they had and all that, the field would be a lot more open.” I think we’d be going, “Ooh, he’s very Jaylen Waddle-like.” And so that’s sometimes where I feel like we miss on the draft and he’s a guy that I certainly love a whole lot in this process.

Keep an eye on him everyone. 4.39 in the 40. He ran the 100 back in high school, 10.33. Had 24 in the long jump. He’s an athlete.

Simms: Quick as hell. Tough as hell. Really quick. I mean, jitterbug type where he’s going to make his living in the slot for the most part. But he’s got enough speed and plays bigger than his size to win on the outside, too.

Arvell Reese, who’s a comp for him? It sounds like you really love his game because he’s built a little differently. How does he project?

Simms: When I watch him and watch him move — and the explosiveness and ferociousness in which he plays — I have a hard time not thinking Micah Parsons, Abdul Carter. It’s that type of guy. Now, he’s young. He’s 241 pounds. But if you met him, you’d go, “Oh my gosh, first off, you’re an Adonis.” He’s still a growing boy. In another year, he’s going to be 6-4, 252. We’re going to go, “Oh, that’s exactly how we want him to look.” He’s one of those guys where he just looks at weights and his biceps get bigger, let alone you’re going to have to lift him. So the body type doesn’t scare me just because I know that he’s going to continue to grow into being a man. And then also what doesn’t scare you is his unbelievable play strength at 242 pounds. So when you see all of that and then the explosion and the first step off the edge. And he told me firsthand that most of the league kind of views him as an edge guy, I think it’ll be a lot like we saw with Micah Parsons. A stand-up linebacker with just a dabble of pass rusher at the start and it’ll slowly start to go more and more towards pass rusher as the years go by to where it wouldn’t shock me if he becomes one of the best pass rushers in the NFL.

And Micah Parsons, you watch him and you could feel it when he wasn’t out there, that relentlessness through the echo of the whistle. He never quits. As physically dominant as he can be and quick and we can break down underwear Olympics, whatever. It’s just that hustle that he has.

Simms: You’ve got to be a psycho. The good ones in the sport are psychos. Josh Allen’s a psycho. He’s a psycho. You say what you want, but he’s hurdling over people, diving into the end zone. Only psychos do that. And him getting up and be like, “That’s awesome! I’m going to go do that again next series!” That’s what you need. Micah, yes, it’s more than the stats. I always had that phrase and I’m sorry to swear. But I always use the phrase: “Fuck the play up.” That was something I invented with Lefko at Bleacher Report because I kept going, “I don’t give a damn what the stats say. Michael Bennett on the Seahawks is as good as any defensive tackle in football. He disrupts the game every play and Micah’s the same way. And Micah got one of my five MVP votes for the reasons you talked about last year. He got hurt, the team fell apart. They were never the same after that. And I think that says something about the quality of the player, the leader, and what he brings to the team.

That is a scouting sixth sense. Who is a psycho? What are those psycho tendencies? And are there any other psychos that you see in this draft, either side of the ball that kind of bring that element?

Simms: Definitely, definitely. There’s some other linebackers that certainly bring that element. Jacob Rodriguez, right? The middle linebacker for Texas Tech. He’s got psycho in him for sure. There’s a bunch of safeties. Caleb Downs, as we know, has got psycho. But it’s a good group of safeties. I’m big with linebacker play, safety play, running back play. The phrase I use is no hesitation. No hesitation. You can’t think. You’ve got to play in a physical way. Fred Warner embodies it for the 49ers. “What’d you say, Coach? Run through the wall?” He’s running through the wall before you even finish the sentence. OK, that’s what it takes. With those positions, I do look at it that way. They’re important to me. Let’s take an example. The running back out of Iowa who went to Pittsburgh. He’s a big-play guy. Kaleb Johnson. You remember him a few years ago? He had all these long touchdowns and all that, but the thing that I watched on coming out in the draft, I went, “Yeah, but if the hole’s not wide open, he doesn’t hit the hole with the aggression and intensity, you need to.” Yeah, you get away with that in college. But in the NFL, that hole closes in a hurry. And sometimes when it closes, you need to just lower your head and drive the pile down for three or four yards. Psycho is part of that position. I love Kaytron Allen of Penn State because he runs like a psycho at running back. The running back from Kentucky, Seth McGowan. He runs like a psycho. He’s better than what the stats say and all of that. He’s made for the NFL that way. So with that and linebacker, safety, you’ve got to play with that style to me to be one of the great ones in the NFL.

Last thought. Buffalo Bills offseason. Like it? Don’t like it? Let’s hear it.

Simms: I like it. So Buffalo, I think anybody that listens to me thinks I have a love-hate relationship with Buffalo because I really love Buffalo. I respect everything about them. I really do. From Brandon Beane down, they’ve done a lot of good. I didn’t agree with Sean McDermott getting fired. I’ll say that right off the bat. I did not. I’m a big Sean McDermott fan. I love Josh Allen, as you know. I don’t hide that. But also, back to what we started, I’m honest. And just because I like those guys doesn’t mean I’m just going to go, “Oh, everything’s perfect in Buffalo. They’re so awesome.” I’ve complained for years that they don’t have enough blue-chip players. Guys that can make big plays and big moments that help them out. Patrick Mahomes has had Chris Jones and Travis Kelce and Tyreek Hill. And I would argue that Josh Allen hasn’t necessarily had some of those people around him to make a big play in a big moment. So he didn’t have a Trent McDuffie or L’Jarius Sneed who was a top corner in football at the time.

And so that’s something I’ve been critical about. It’s got to be more than just like, “Hey, we hope Josh Allen makes a big play in a big moment.” The Chiefs turned to a defensive team the last three or four years. So it hasn’t been all about Mahomes. It’s just been Mahomes clutch at the end of the game, keep it close and that’s it. With Buffalo, it’s been too much on Josh Allen all the time. And that’s where I do love the DJ Moore signing. I like some of the signings on the defensive side of the ball, too. Bradley Chubb has some potential. He definitely can be a double-digit sack guy there. I like CJ Gardner’s attitude in the secondary. I do like that. Maxwell Hairston being in second year, I think is going to show people there.

So yeah, I have liked it. But DJ Moore, finally we’ve got a guy for the first time since the early Stefon Diggs days to where you go, “Wait, we could throw him a screen and he might be able to score a 60-yarder.” Instead of like, the only way we score a 60-yarder is, “OK, James Cook.” Or Josh Allen has to make magic happen and throw some laser down the field that we all just go, “Holy shit, what a play!” And that’s just not conducive to getting to the Super Bowl or winning the Super Bowl. Think about the teams that have been in the Super Bowl. The Eagles are an All-Star team. It’s a list of All Pro’ish special players. The Niners and the years they lost in the Super Bowl, think about it. It’s Bosa, it’s DeForest Buckner, it’s Arik Armstead, it’s Fred Warner, it’s Deebo Samuel. It’s Brandon Aiyuk. It’s Christian McCaffrey. You can name difference-makers and that doesn’t even stop. The list just keeps going. The Rams had it. The Bengals had it in the Super Bowl. The Bucs had it. And that’s to me just where Buffalo needs to get to. And between that and Joe Brady and a few additions, hopefully they can get there.

I love the DJ Moore move, too. Unconventional receiver for an unconventional quarterback. I think that could mix really well in this Joe Brady offense.

Simms: Exactly. He can open the offense up one because you have to worry about him running by you deep down the field. And we know with Mr. Bazooka Arm Josh Allen, you better respect that. And then, yeah, you’ve got too many people in the box to stop James Cook? Oh, boom, zoom. Little screen out there to the receiver. Now, DJ Moore makes a move and we go, “Whoa, there’s 40 yards. We just ripped off 40 yards with a -1 yard pass.” And that’s where I love the value of DJ Moore. You’ve got to have guys like that in the NFL. Right now, the biggest stat in the game dictating wins or losses is not turnovers. It stopped. It’s ended. It’s about explosive plays and the teams that are winning can make big-time explosive plays. And that’s what I’m hoping for, for Buffalo and Josh Allen and company.

Share

Subscribe now

All links to Bob McGinn’s draft series:

• Part 1, WR: Who’s the next star wideout?

• Part 2, TE: Kenyon Sadiq and the hunt for matchup nightmares

• Part 3, T: Why Francis Mauigoa ‘n co. may define the 2026 NFL Draft

• Part 4, G/C: Why this is the year to draft a center

• Part 5, QB: The Fernando Mendoza Question

• Part 6, RB: Notre Dame’s Jeremiyah Love? ‘The best NFL prospect in this draft

• Part 7, DL: Secure your space-eater

• Part 8, Edge: Deep 2026 class promises to torment quarterbacks

• Part 9, LB: How should an NFL team unleash Arvell Reese?

• Part 10, CB: McCoy? Delane? Hood? Inside the debate at the top...

• Part 11, S: Why Caleb Downs, a ‘slam dunk,’ is one of the best players in the NFL Draft

• Part 12, ST: The kicking revolution is here

Good morn! I know we’ve got many subscribers who prefer words over pods. So, here’s the written transcript from my conversation with former NFL Pro Bowler Matt Hasselbeck last week. (Video and audio is also accessible here.)

Always a pleasure shooting the bull with Hasselbeck.

Topics include…

• Philip Rivers dusted off the cleats at 44… and played well! Were other quarterbacks paying attention? There’s one valuable lesson to take.

• Is Tom Brady’s itch to play worth scratching?

• Flag football is not the NFL.

• At No. 1, the Las Vegas Raiders will select Fernando Mendoza. Hasselbeck says Indiana’s Heisman winner checks every single box.

• What was wrong with Geno Smith in 2025?

• Hasselbeck sees the Raiders as a perfect ecosystem for a young quarterback.

• When do you know any young QB is ready to start? Patrick Mahomes, Aaron Rodgers and others sat. Others benefit from baptism by fire. Hasselbeck pinpoints precisely what should compel a head coach to play a rookie.

• The bar for Caleb Williams was made clear by Ben Johnson, and he was clutch. Hasselbeck reflects.

• Who is the most disrespected quarterback in football? Brock Purdy.

Go Long is your forever home for longform journalism in pro football.

New here? Subscribe today to access everything.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Tom Brady, he’s in the news. I think about quarterbacks like yourself, Matt, where you played two decades and every quarterback probably believes they can play forever. Now, it sounds like Tom Brady still has that itch.

Hasselbeck: Don’t blame Tom Brady. Blame Philip Rivers because Philip Rivers at 44 years old — he’s just been coaching high school football, so the ball’s been in his hand a bunch — he got up off the couch and he went into Seattle and basically played better than any other quarterback with the exception of Matthew Stafford. He played better than any other quarterback in the NFL against that Seahawks defense. And left the field with the lead. The defense couldn’t hold onto the lead and the Seahawks kick a game-winner. But that’s your world champions. At their place. And Philip Rivers at 44, he can’t run. He could never run, but he’s got all the other stuff. And the stuff that matters. The leadership and the knowledge of how to protect himself and protect the team with pass pro and all that. And it’s all the stuff that Brady can still do. He could do better now than ever. And so when I saw him playing the flag football thing and really the pros got smoked, which is not surprising because I’ve played against the flag guys and it’s a totally different game. But he completely still has all the physical. I would say he actually looks like he’s in better shape than he was when he came out of Michigan. He throws it better. He moves better. He’s more handsome. He’s aging in reverse. It’s ridiculous. So I don’t know what other elixirs he’s on, but we all need to be taking them because he looks amazing. So no, it doesn’t surprise me at all that he felt competitive and had a scoreboard and he was just in it. Because you miss that stuff and he certainly can still throw the ball.

How long did you have that feeling yourself when you walked away? When you’re watching football?

Hasselbeck: The first year out, I actually think your body is ready for a breather. You’re like, “Man, I am done getting tackled. I am done getting hit in the head. I’m done breaking ribs.” Whatever the things are. But then that second year out, you actually feel great. You feel better than you felt the year before. And so I don’t think the age is really a number. I don’t think Tom Brady gets out of bed like most people is like, “Oh, my back hurts. Oh, my feet hurt. All my shoulder’s got arthritis.” I don’t think he feels that way. I think he feels great. I think he probably eats healthy. He gets great sleep. He’s doing all the things. And so, no, he probably today feels better than he did when he walked off the field for the last time after getting the crap beat out of him for 17 weeks in a row.

And here’s the thing about Brady. He played 22 years. But he played like 24 seasons if you count his playoff games. So the dude played 24 years in 22 years if that makes any sense. When the rest of the quarterbacks in his era were in Cabo doing nothing, that dude was playing playoff games and Super Bowls. It’s pretty crazy.

That’s a great point on Rivers. I assumed it would be humiliating when he returned to the NFL —Old Man Rivers is going to get dragged off the field. And you’re right. He had the lead against the Super Bowl champs late in that game. The NFL has moved to a point where if you’re not mobile, if you’re not athletic, if you’re not a quarterback that can create and play-make, you’re not even going to make it to the NFL. How was he able to do that? And what can we take from that Rivers finish?

Hasselbeck: All those young quarterbacks should be studying him. They all want to rely on their feet and their legs. All of a sudden their first, second, third read’s not there. They dip their eyes and they go. Right-handers usually break contain to the right — and the defense knows this. So the defensive end on that side, he’s taught, “Get your right hand up where the ball would be coming out or your left hand up where the ball would be coming out, and then you get ready for him to escape that way.” The details of pass rush and scouting reports on quarterbacks, they’re real. So Philip Rivers, what are you going to say? He’s going to be right there, 7 ½ yards behind the center. Sometimes 9 ½ yards behind the center. And he’s just going to do this little subtle, like Dan Marino shift basically one yard each direction with his eyes downfield the whole time. Ball getting out of his hands on time and accurate. Similar to what Tom Brady’s whole career was. Tom Brady was a very, very slow person in the 40-yard dash. So I just think that sometimes the guys who are more athletic and can rely on that, it actually impedes their development as a guy who can play the game the way Philip Rivers played it this year.

So could Tom Brady — say he gives up his ownership and he wants to play that bad, he’s willing to lose God knows how much money to play football — would a team want him? And what would it look like at this point? At 48?

Hasselbeck: Well, he already owns a team. He’s already got the team. Send Mendoza to the Jets. I know Geno’s the Promised Land guy. Whatever that was.

No, no. The answer’s no. He makes way too much money doing what he’s doing, not getting hit in the head and he had his time. But it’s fun to dream. And even like you mentioned the Philip Rivers thing, I think there were a lot of quarterbacks my age — when Philip Rivers started playing — they were like, “Well, shoot, man, he’s probably going to pop a calf here at some point. He’s probably going to have a pickleball injury that my friends are having. So maybe I should start getting in shape so that I’m ready for the call after he gets hurt.” I think that’s what guys in their 40s were sort of thinking. Didn’t happen. Good for Philip. I think there were a lot of middle-aged men rooting for him.

But no, Brady. It’s over. But the flag thing’s really interesting because there’s this opportunity, the Olympics. This is something, if you grew up as a football player, it’s the one thing you never got to do. You were kind of jealous of the NBA guys or the hockey guys that get to represent your country. But I will just caution them. I have played in two flag football games with real flag football people. Completely different game. And some of it’s just not detailed and you as a quarterback, you’re used to things being detailed. And then there’s another part of it where these dudes are just like, I don’t know, man. They’ve got breakdance moves when you go to grab that flag and you can’t grab it. It’s not tackle football. So to think that you’re just better because you’re good at NFL football, I don’t know that that’s necessarily true.

It’s a totally different game. To tackle somebody to the ground — form up, square up — it’s a lot different with the pads on, using violence, than trying to grab a flag when they’re swiveling their hips. And you basically need two quarterbacks out there, right? So they can throw it all over the place. The plays are different. I’m not really a big fan of flag football. I feel like it’s survival mode for the NFL. They’re thinking decades in advance. No thanks.

Hasselbeck: I think they’re onto something. I actually think something’s going to be really good. And I love how girls can get involved in this game a little bit easier because it’s not tackle football. So I’m excited about that. I think I’m a fan of it. When I played, Deion Sanders was on my team. Deion Sanders. Now, I know he’s not the young Deion Sanders, but it’s Deion Sanders. I don’t care. Willie McGinest. Some good talented dudes. I don’t know what the right word is, “pro” flag guys. They were better. They were better. It’s a different game.

Share Go Long

What do you make of this quarterback draft class? Have you looked at Fernando Mendoza?

Hasselbeck: I know all the guys better as people than I do as players. But Fernando Mendoza, for me, checks all the boxes. I know there’s a little bit of hot-take shade that’s being thrown at him recently on the television. But I chalk that up to guys are running out of things to say and they want to have a hot take. I don’t think any of that’s real. I would hope it’s not real. Fernando Mendoza is amazing. He’s amazing. He’s so boring to talk about because yeah, he’s going to be the first pick. It’s not even up for debate. There’s really no one else they would consider taking first overall. It’s a done deal. So I think it’s almost boring for TV and talk radio. People are just coming with their hottest take and then it goes nuts on social media and then people are talking for hours about the take that I don’t even think people really believe. I think they’re full of garbage just trying to have a hot take. So no, Mendoza’s the first overall pick and he’s great. I didn’t know him until the Combine or maybe I met him at the Super Bowl. But really got to know him at the Combine. The Raiders are going to be really lucky to have him.

Our business model is really off at Go Long. What we have to do is think of something outlandish, put it out there, and then we can do three or four, five different podcast episodes, a feature, a column. String it along, right?

Hasselbeck: Well, that’s the new thing. Because listen, when I grew up, there were like three channels. And I remember when we got cable, I think I was in high school, so that was like the fourth channel essentially that I would watch. And it’s just so different now. There’s so much news out there. It’s hard to cut through. Back in the day, the idea in the media was try to enlighten people. Try to teach them. Try to share your expertise. And now I think it’s almost to just enrage them like: “What?! You said that. No way. I’m getting on Twitter and I’m going to say you’re an idiot and this is why!” And then it just goes viral that way. So I think that’s changed. Hopefully it changes back to something more meaningful.

But I will say just when it comes to the quarterback evaluation process, the mock drafts and how the rankings are, they’re never right. Go back year after year after year, they’re never right. And then also the other thing is that beauty’s in the eye of the beholder. How does this person fit into our team and where our team is right now?

Sam Darnold is an example. He just won the Super Bowl, but it wasn’t the right fit on the Jets at that time when he was not old enough to rent a car. So he didn’t have a lot of starts. Ty Simpson, I think is wildly talented and has huge upside. But he started like 15 games in college. That’s risky. I can’t draft him that high. Look at what’s happened in the past. I think it’s too risky to draft him that high. But could he be a first-rounder? Yeah, I think he could be a first-rounder. Hey, if the Seahawks are there at 32 and a team’s like, “Hey, we could trade back into the second. Somebody could trade up to get a first-round pick on Ty Simpson so they could have him for that fifth-year option,” well, it’s a quarterback. Quarterbacks don’t develop right away. That fifth year is really nice. It’s really nice to know. And there’s some teams that would love to have their fifth-year decision back on guys. And so there’s probably even an argument you might need six years on some of these guys.

I think back to my quarterback draft class. It was Peyton Manning, Ryan Leaf, and literally everyone was like, “I don’t know, pick it. They’re basically the same.” That’s what everyone thought. And even the rest of the draft that no one really ever talks about. But even there, that was a lot of difference of opinion. And so I get it. I totally get it. It’s not a science. And we in the NFL and people talk about it have done a very, very poor job at evaluating quarterbacks over the years.

You know Fernando Mendoza. You know the Raiders. I know you like that signing of Tyler Linderbaum. They had to pay a lot of money for him, but he can take a lot off a rookie’s plate. How is that fit for him? Because if you’re going to a team with the first overall pick, they have that pick for a reason. The Raiders had the worst roster in football. I like their signings, though. Even through the Maxx Crosby mess, you could have worse outcomes than welcoming back a hungry, relentless edge rusher in Maxx Crosby. Maybe this is a great spot for Mendoza to play early and play well.

Hasselbeck: Well, I think it is a great spot and I don’t think it was the worst roster in football. I think Geno Smith just had a very uncharacteristic ... I mean, he was unrecognizable to the guy we saw in Seattle. He led the league in turnovers. The whole thing was a disaster there. I’m not sure exactly what happened. They were getting rid of coordinators during the season. It was a bad deal.

So you think it was more on Geno than what was around Geno?

Hasselbeck: I think it was on everybody. But I’ll just say for Geno — as someone who’s sat in quarterback rooms a lot — part of what you have to do in quarterback rooms is you’ve got to just block out. Be the guy that didn’t write back. Just block it out. You’re moving forward and you’re laser-focused. And I saw the opposite of that out of Geno. Opposite. On and off the field. It was a different dude. Now maybe he recaptures that and learns from it in his second stint in New York.

But no, the Raiders can be a little bit better than ... they can be a lot better. They can be a lot better. But I would just say for Mendoza who grew up in Miami, grew up a diehard Patriots fan because of Tom Brady. Now, Tom Brady’s basically one of the top executives in that organization. That’s an intangible to me that if it goes well, could be really a great thing. Then you have Klint Kubiak as your head coach who every quarterback — you’re talking to every quarterback that used to play or still plays, they would love to be in that Mike Shanahan/Kyle Shanahan/McVay offense. Which really, when you say Mike Shanahan, you’re really saying Gary Kubiak. So it’s Mike Shanahan/Kyle Shanahan. It’s Gary Kubiak/Klint Kubiak. That’s the system. It’s a very quarterback-friendly lens that you’re seeing everything through. So you take what Mendoza is and has been, the coaching that he’s had, throw him in this system and there’s no expectations to win right away, I don’t think. But I do think that this is the Raiders. It’s like a premier franchise. You’re not going to just anywhere. The upside is so there.

I think it’s great. I don’t think this is a risky pick at all. And certainly you’ve seen some situations where guys were going to be the first pick overall and their people, their family, their agent, whoever, they were like, “Oh, you don’t want to go there.” That’s the furthest thing from the truth in this situation. I think this is probably where he would pick if he could pick a place. And here it is.

We saw him in big-time moments — through that playoff run — make plays with his arm, with his legs, change a program with Cignetti. All of that stuff has to matter. As much as one throw in one situation can get over-analyzed, that paralysis by analysis, what we saw with our eyes in real time probably matters 100 times more than all of that this draft season.

Hasselbeck: And the clutch factor, right? A lot of guys, it’s kind of like a golfer. There’s a lot of golfers out there that say, “I could have made that eagle putt.” Yeah, but you didn’t. Yeah, on the second try you did. But that’s not golf and that’s not quarterbacking either. You’ve got to make that throw with a dude in your face and you get one chance to do it. And you don’t know when it’s going to come up and you don’t know which throw it’s going to be. So yeah, I played with a lot of dudes and played against a lot of dudes that can do it in practice. But you’ve got to do it when the moment arises. And I think that’s the difference. And that’s where I think you kind of have this confidence in picking somebody so high when you have a larger sample size like Fernando Mendoza has.

The debate is always, “How soon is too soon for a rookie quarterback to play?” You can pull examples — Mahomes, Rodgers, and the guys who have sat — and see how it benefited them. Other guys are thrown into the fire. It’s not necessarily pretty, but it helps them. I don’t think I’ve heard anybody pinpoint this better than Matt Hasselbeck. It’s third-down pass protection. If you know what the hell is going on, third down when Brian Flores and all these D-coordinators are pulling out their best stuff, you’re ready. So what goes into that? And how difficult is it to master third-down pass protection in today’s NFL?

Hasselbeck: It’s the hardest thing and it’s the most important thing. And I can’t tell you how many coaches in quarterback rooms have said to me like, “Hey, you don’t get paid for what you do from the 20 to the 20. You get paid for what you do in the red zone and what you do on third down. That’s where you make your money. That’s why you make more money than everybody else.” Third down. That’s the game. And it’s protect the ball, but it’s also be aggressive and score. How do we do that? It’s being a Top Gun fighter pilot. You trust your training, you cut it loose. Yet at the same time, you’ve got to protect it. You’ve got to protect us. You’ve got to protect the plane, you’ve got to protect everybody. And that’s quarterbacking, and it’s not that simple.

But when you can master that — and do it with the play clock — that’s when I know that I can trust you to go play a football game. Like, a real football game. Now, are there people that could help me do that? Yes. A veteran center would be incredibly helpful. And that’s what the Raiders did. They haven’t drafted Fernando, but they went out and got Tyler Linderbaum from the Ravens. Perfect signing, perfect signing. Now, it would also help me to have a veteran running back who’s unbelievable in pass pro for third down. I don’t know that they have that locked down, but maybe they can get there. Maybe it is Ashton Jeanty. Maybe it’s somebody else, but that would help also.

Once you know as a coach that your young quarterback can handle that? Cut him loose, go give him reps. But if he can’t do that, he’s going to hurt himself, he’s going to hurt his teammates. And honestly, he’s probably going to hurt the pocketbook of the DBs that take the shot on the guy that you just laid out as a quarterback late down the middle or hot into a cloud corner or like something else. You’re going to get somebody hurt. So I don’t think it’s that difficult to know when a guy’s ready. You can put him in sample situations like that and in practice and just know like, “Yeah, he’s got it.” And you know when he doesn’t. And so that’s clear to me. I don’t think that’s a really hard thing to figure out. For some reason, people seem to have other criteria and it’s kind of like what their timeline says.

Subscribe now

It’s got to be tempting as a coach, as an organization to dumb things down, make it very college-friendly. And it’s like a sugar high. A stick of Juicy Fruit gum. It’s going to be great for five seconds. And we see that a lot of times with young quarterbacks. They come in and they’re not asked to do a lot. It goes well. But eventually though, you’ve got to be able to handle everything that you’re detailing here.

Hasselbeck: I actually think what happens is different than that. I think what happens is they start out keeping it simple and they let the guys play fast and play free and it works. And then these coaches — we’re all guilty of it, anybody who’s coached — you try to prove how smart you are and you make it complicated and you slow the processor down in-between the ears of the quarterback. And his teammates. And you screw it up by doing too much. I promise you most of my career, like if I could point to one thing that would help me or the starting quarterback from Favre to Andrew Luck and everyone in-between, is if they would’ve just kept it a little more simple, for us, so that we could just cut it loose and play fast like we’ve been doing our whole life. But when we’re out there, we feel like we’re taking a final exam and kind of like, “Alright, do I do this? Do I do that?” Now, you’re making me feel like it’s my first time flying a 747. Instead of me feeling like I’m driving my car that I’ve been driving since I was 16 1/2 years old. And that’s like what I think really happens is these coaches, they brag about, “Oh, I slept here last night.” Doesn’t help us guys. It doesn’t help us. You might know more. But now we — the 11 of us — do we know more? I don’t know. I’m a proponent of keeping it simple and worrying more about us. Playing with great technique, great fundamentals, good decision-making. And I don’t care what you do as a defense. We’re going to do what we do better. College offense, high school offense, pro offense, it does not matter.

In my head, I’m thinking of Ben Johnson in Chicago: The standard is up here: The quarterback has to meet this standard. This is our offense. We’ll take the wristband off. We know what we’re working with, unlike the previous staff. And Caleb Williams was open to coaching. I think that he felt that pressure. Ben was going to run his offense.

Hasselbeck: That’s a great example you bring up. Because I mean, Ben Johnson is as well-respected of a playcaller as there is. The transformation and the improvement from Year 1 to Year 2 from Caleb was incredible. So that is a great example. Now, I could also say that the delay of games, the pre-snap penalties, there’s some of that stuff. So Ben Johnson was like, “No, screw it, man. Here’s the standard. If you hit it, you can stay as the quarterback here.” But if he hadn’t hit it, I don’t know that he had a future there in Chicago. I think that was part of the, “Hey, I’ve got one year to figure this out and then otherwise I’m going to go get my quarterback. I didn’t draft you.” That’s a real thing. It was a sink-or-swim for that quarterback and he swam. He produced. Mostly in two minute, end of the game. Mostly it was like, “Hey, this doesn’t look super great, and then wow. That was the best play of the year. Unbelievable. Incredible.

So, we’ll see in Year 3. The first three and a half quarters in a lot of those games, it was ugly. And then, at the end, it was Canton.

Hasselbeck: Listen, you can’t take away from them — the transformation. And like I said earlier about being clutch. You can’t coach that part. You can’t test for that at the Combine. And so he has that confidence. When he should not have confidence, he has confidence. And I think that breeds. It’s contagious. The teammates feel it. I think the opponent can feel it. He did very well. He passed that test with flying colors. So yeah, that’s an interesting one. Ben Johnson is as good as they come. For a young coach to have the success that he’s had, he’s McVay-ish to me.

And all of the other stuff that goes into it, too. Not just the X’s and O’s, not just designing an offense. He’s not afraid to make a statement. We’ve gotten into it at the site quite often, but leaning into Packers-Bears, leaning into the hate. You could see how they all feed off of that.

Hasselbeck: Again, I almost feel like this is those hot takes. I don’t think this is even real.

You don’t think that’s real at all?

Hasselbeck: I don’t think you hate the Packers. I think you respect the game and you’re a historian and you’re a smart guy. And it’d be like if this was Notre Dame-USC, you’re just leaning into it. It’s Red Sox-Yankees, it’s Celtics-Lakers. You’re just leaning into this because you’re the head coach of the Bears.

The good/better/best, the tearing off the shirt, the “F the Packers.” There’s something to all of that.

Hasselbeck: It’s great for ratings. You’re going to be on prime time. I don’t think he really hates the Packers. I don’t think he hates LaFleur. I think there’s mutual respect there. And literally at the league meetings, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if those two dudes were having a drink together, riding in a golf cart together. It just wouldn’t shock me.

I want to believe.

Hasselbeck: I feel like I’m talking about Santa Claus here or something. I won’t. My bad.

Last one for you. Is there a young quarterback in today’s game that you think is on the rise and could have a breakout season? You’re looking at this position through a different lens than most people. So who’s set to really ascend in 2026?

Hasselbeck: Yeah, it’s a great question. There’s a lot of guys I love their game. I mean, Drake Maye was a guy that — besides my brother — I don’t think there was a bigger Drake Maye fan than me when he was coming out. Everyone was hot on Caleb. I liked Jayden Daniels and I liked Drake. And I liked other guys also, but Drake Maye to me, if they can just protect for him, he’s as good as they come in every way. He’s everything you’re looking for. That’s an example of a guy that I just believe in all the way.

Let me think of a guy that no one gives respect to. I would say Brock Purdy. People don’t give respect to Brock Purdy the way he deserves respect. That dude is a baller and they love to use these other excuses, and I get it. He doesn’t have this physical dominating presence when you meet him. Literally, if someone told you he’s a college player or maybe even a high school player, you’d be like, “Oh, OK, maybe.” But he is as much of a baller as there is in the NFL when it comes to running the show as a quarterback. Touch factor. Technique. Accuracy. Mobility, Moxie. I don’t know why he doesn’t get the respect. I really don’t.

Great point. That Chicago game, Sunday night, late in the year, you can pull from a dozen plays that he made. But it was like watching the old arcade Frogger game, the way he moved up… then back… to the side… to the side… back again… and threw that touchdown. It was unbelievable.

Hasselbeck: And he’s got Mike Evans on. So Mike Evans, he’s on a good team with a good quarterback and he’s like, “You know what? I want to go win a Super Bowl.” He watches film all the time. What quarterback does he want to go play with? He wants to go play there. I don’t know if people remember this, but I think it was Week 18. The Seahawks who had already lost to the Niners, they went to San Fran and the winner is the one seed in the NFC. Literally homefield advantage goes through you — with all the injuries that the Niners had and with the great year that the Rams had and Stafford had, those were the two teams that were playing for the one seed. And the Seahawks dominate that game and they get the one seed. But the Niners, man, I know everyone’s talking about the Super Bowl next year and the NFC and they’re already talking about the Rams and they’re always talking about the Seahawks, but do not sleep on the Niners.

I just think Purdy’s that good. They’ll get healthy. They’ll be better against the run. All the stuff that was their kryptonite, I wouldn’t count them out.

Mike Evans is really perfect for that offense as a backside weapon.

Hasselbeck: And that’s what it is. They call it a “gift.” So when it’s 1-on-1 backside, you’ve got your Kyle Shanahan concept to the other side. And any time they leave him 1 on 1, that’s just a gift. We’ll take it. His job’s to beat his guy. Your job is just to throw the ball accurately. Just about every quarterback in the NFL can do that on a consistent basis. But you need that guy. And so, every team that’s really killing it right now has that kind of guy: a JSN, a Puka, or Davante Adams sometimes. So you have that 1-on-1 guy where it’s like, “If we get him, especially in the red zone…” that’s what Mike Evans has done for his whole career.

Share

Subscribe now

Bob McGinn’s 42nd annual draft series is live and accessible to paid subscribers.

Here’s the latest on Caleb Downs and the safeties.

Related:

Share

Good evening! Welcome, new readers. Hello, OGs. A pleasure to have you all here in your Go Long world.

We’ve got a fresh feature live at the site right now. I traveled to Georgia to hang out with the “villain,” the “bad guy,” the third-year defensive back who’s aiming to be everything these Green Bay Packers have desperately lacked for years: the dagger.

Javon Bullard grew up bobbing ‘n weaving away from bullets in Milledgeville. He idolized Tyrann Mathieu, the “Honey Badger.” And he can pinpoint two crucial turning points in his football life — the hit on Marvin Harrison Jr. in the CFP semifinals and the moment he decided not to give a bleep in the pros.

After the Packers’ meltdown in the playoffs, I was struck by Bullard’s honesty so we trekked on south to learn more.

He didn’t hold back then. He ratchets it up 100 levels in our conversation.

Miss the story? Bang it right here to read:

Also, I’ll record a Substack Live Tuesday morning at 9:30 a.m. (EST) inside the Substack app to answer questions you have on Bullard, the Packers, anything at all:

Get more from Tyler Dunne in the Substack app

Available for iOS and Android

Get the app

A handful of quotes from Bullard in our chat are below.

He’s most certainly not curling up in the fetal position.

As we wrote, there are coaches (and PR staffs) who hear language like this and call a player into the principal’s office for a tisk-tisk lecture. Then, there are coaches who cheer it on. Coaches who take these words, plaster them up on a projector screen and compel everyone on the roster to think exactly like “Bull.”

It’s high time the Packers morphed into the latter.

Thank you for reading and subscribing, all.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

• “We need that instinct to kill motherfuckers’ hope. Like, ‘No. Not today. Not tomorrow. Y’all through. We finna beat y’all ass.’ I don’t think we’ve got that as a team yet. But we got another year to prove it.”

• “I don’t want to live a life of regret. Like, ‘Damn, I should’ve done that.’ Hell nah. Go 110 percent in whatever the hell you’re doing.”

• “Damn, I hate Chicago! It’s like real hate. I can’t stand Chicago. I don’t know what the hell it is. I don’t like the team. I don’t like their coach. I don’t like shit about Chicago. Except for their food. I do love their food. But other than that, man? Damn Chicago.”

• “They got two little wins last year. But don’t forget who the big brother is. We’re still big brother. They got a long way to go before they can try to shit on us. But we got to show them, too. We can’t just talk that shit. We’ve got to be about it. So it’s going to be hell next year, man. ... It’s going to be hell.”

• “We love it. We embrace that. Shit, I can’t wait. Everybody says every game is the same, but it’s not. I’m keeping it 100. Every game is not the same. You might prepare the same way for every game, but the feeling? It’s going to be different. You get a different tingle in your body. When certain things happen — when we play Chicago? — the shit is there. The energy’s there. Your whole damn body vibrates, man.”

• “You go to a party? Shit. You hope it don’t get shot up. Ask anybody in there. They’ll probably say the same thing. ... I’m no stranger to danger.”

• “Play within the rules of the game. But play with every fucking bone in your body. Don’t settle for nothing. ... Attack it.”

• “Your defense is going to win you everything. I want the Packers to understand that. Hell, I want the whole league to understand that you build around that defense. When you’ve got so many guys that really take pride in what they doing — really want to dominate — the sky’s the limit. That’s the recipe for all 32 teams. Get you some dogs that really don’t give a fuck.”

• “I almost got kicked out of practice for being overly aggressive. You definitely play within the rules of the game, and you want to be a good teammate. But don’t ever lose that competitor. I’m all for erring on the line. I want to be on that damn line. You’ve got to tell me to, ‘Hey Bull, chill the hell out.’ Rather than I’m not doing shit, I’m not going hard enough, and you’re like, ‘Damn, c’mon Bull.’ I’d rather my dog be aggressive than my dog be a slouch.”

New here? It’s a perfect time to subscribe.

Bob McGinn’s 42nd draft series is also running. Here are the links so far.

Quarterbacks are live Tuesday AM.

Subscribe now

• Part 1, WR: Who’s the next star wideout?

• Part 2, TE: Kenyon Sadiq and the hunt for matchup nightmares

• Part 3, T: Why Francis Mauigoa ‘n co. may define the 2026 NFL Draft

• Part 4, G/C: Why this is the year to draft a center

Subscribe now

MILLEDGEVILLE, Ga. — The search for what these Green Bay Packers have always been missing begins as a conquest against Mother Nature. Blinding fog makes a 65-mile drive to the airport feel more like staring into a 90s Magic Eye poster. Fly south to Atlanta, pick up a rental car, escape bumper-to-bumper traffic in the city and a torrential downpour into the country prompts several cars to veer off the nearest exit. Windshield wipers are helpless.

Finally, you arrive. Everything this town of 17,000 residents needs is on North Columbia Street, including some of the finest southern cooking in all of Georgia. Legends Seafood & Grill is the cultural heartbeat of Milledgeville. Walk through the front door and a glossy homage to a hometown hero greets all patrons: an autographed No. 22 Georgia Bulldogs jersey with two pictures from a national title triumph.

This is Javon Bullard Country.

When the 23-year-old himself arrives, all eyes dart his direction. A hostess leads us to the vacant dining area in the back. It’s quiet, dimly lit, perfect for deep introspection. No use making idle small talk. One minute into conversation, I explain what inspired this trip: his raw honesty after the Packers’ heinous postseason collapse in Chicago. It was refreshing. Through 15 years of crushing playoff defeats, nobody’s been so blunt.

Time has passed. Most athletes seated in this chair would politely offer a word salad before, then, changing the subject. He can’t because he’s not most athletes. Bullard refuses to ignore the subject that’s taken up permanent residency in the prefrontal cortex of his brain since the night of Jan. 10, 2026.

Our waitress hasn’t even returned to ask what we’d like to drink yet.

“Damn, I hate Chicago!” Bullard says. “It’s like real hate. I can’t stand Chicago. I don’t know what the hell it is. I don’t like the team. I don’t like their coach. I don’t like shit about Chicago. Except for their food. I do love their food. But other than that, man? Damn Chicago.”

Once the Bears’ 31-27 comeback was complete, Ben Johnson tossed a grenade onto this rivalry. Inside the winner’s locker room, the Bears head coach shouted: “Fuck the Packers! Fuck them!” Honestly? Bullard loved this fire. When it’s time to get back to work, he might even say something to Matt LaFleur — it’s time for his own coach to pop off.

“Don’t let him try to shit on you like that,” Bullard says. “I don’t like that.”

No, every game is not the same. He wants vengeance. This is not unhinged rage and he hopes the Bears hear everything he has to say.

He’s plotting, not whining.

Smiling, not seething.

“We’re going to see them boys — multiple times,” Bullard says. “They’re going to have to come with it.”

Javon Bullard is only getting started.

This night, he’s wearing a plain white tee and his dreadlocks spill from a gray beanie. Bullard’s body is a tapestry of tattoos. On his right bicep, you’ll see “FEAR GOD.” On his left forearm, a Bible verse. Philippians 4:6 advises not to be anxious, not to worry, rather to bring your questions to God. Mom’s name is tatted. So is the NFL shield. But what shines most is the bling. The grillz. The necklace. The bracelet. All diamond-encrusted jewelry, worth more than this visitor’s life, projects an authentic swagger that’s actually quite old school.

Everything Bullard is feeling right now can be directly traced to the sport’s meteoric rise in the 60s. Back when this rhetoric was the norm.

Vince Lombardi and George Halas cultivated genuine hatred in the opposition. Ray Nitschke knocked Mike Ditka unconscious on the field and picked fights with the Bears tight end outside of a Milwaukee restaurant off it. If those greats were seated at this table, they’d buy Bullard a beer and thank him for preserving everything that makes football unlike any other occupation. The sport’s gladiator mentality remains alive in Packers-Bears, two teams that’ve played 213 times. When Bullard hears these names, he beams. “You just feel it,” he says. “You feel the hate.” Bullard jokes that he could post a picture of a breathtaking sunset and his feed will be bombarded with vulgarities and #BearDown hashtags.

Thus, all participants in such emotionally charged combat face a binary choice. There is no gray area.

Cower in the fetal position or embr…

“Embrace it,” Bullard cuts in.

The day after this loss, Bullard insisted Chicago didn’t do anything special. Green Bay gave this game away. He stands by every word.

“I’d say that shit every day if I had to,” he says. “Us as players, we didn’t execute. Coaches didn’t call shit as good as they should have. It’s all a collective. They need us, we need them. The reality is, we lost. But we were beating the shit out of them. Not to take shit away from them because they made some hell of a plays, too. But we were doing unorthodox things that we really don’t do.

“We’re a team that doesn’t necessarily know how to play with a lead.”

He explains.

“From the jump, we’re on your ass right now. You already know what time it is. It’s 21-3 at half. But this is a sport of momentum. That shit is real. We’re on the road in a volatile, hostile environment. They had all the momentum. They had all the swag on their side. They proved they can stop us and shit shifted. Now, we’ve got to find a mojo.”

The Packers never did find their mojo. Bullard still remembers that long walk back toward the visitor’s locker room.

“A bad feeling,” he says, “especially when you know you’re the better team. Hell, they know. I’m going to keep it a bean. They know.”

When the Packers were crushing the Bears, Bullard saw the dread in their eyes.

“We’re on y’all ass and you’re acting like you motherfuckers don’t even want to play no more. But we need that instinct to kill motherfuckers’ hope. Like, ‘No. Not today. Not tomorrow. Y’all through. We finna beat y’all ass.’ I don’t think we’ve got that as a team yet. But we’ve got another year to prove it.”

This game was not decided by pyrotechnic play design or bold analytics.

January results will not change until this franchise’s psyche does. This is a Packers team that lost three times without punting once. In five of their nine losses, they led by 9+ points. They choked away a 10-0 lead to the Cleveland Browns, botched an onside recovery the other time they visited Chicago, were humiliated for 307 yards on the ground by Baltimore and we’ll get to all that standing around in Denver when Jordan Love was shoved in the head. The wild-card meltdown should’ve come as no surprise. Playoff collapses have become as embedded into Wisconsin culture as Spotted Cows, bratwursts smothered in sauerkraut and scraping your windshield in March.

Javon Bullard — call him “Bull” — is here to change all of that.

Right here in Milledgeville, he dodged bullets, idolized a honey badger and learned how to win this psychological warfare on a football field.

His story is instructive for all 32 teams. Because this is precisely when all clubs try to improve via free agency, trades, the draft. Player acquisition. Truth is, the chasm between a playoff team and a champion isn’t anything digestible on All-22 footage. It’s exactly what Bullard describes: a killer instinct. Sensing fear in your adversary and driving that dagger deeper. Being the hunter, never the hunted. Packers president Ed Policy could have hit reset this offseason. Some teams, like the Buffalo Bills, hire a new head coach to get over the hump. In Green Bay, Matt LaFleur is back for an eighth season.

This character trait must bloom from within.

The 5-foot-10, 198-pounder seated here is fully prepared to do whatever it takes.

Go Long is powered by you.

Thank you for supporting independent journalism.

Subscribe now

‘The villain’

As a boy, in high school, he was a threat to the health of any opponent within a 15-yard radius. Trickeration stood no chance. One night, Westlake High School called a fake punt and Javon Bullard sniffed it out. The punter rolls right, lobs a pass up the right sideline, Bullard takes off in all-out sprint, and… no. Words cannot do this destruction justice. His coach at Baldwin High School, Jesse Hicks, stops talking mid-sentence and texts the clip. “He decapitates this kid,” Hicks says.

Officials often begged Hicks to calm Bullard down. His hits were legal, but too piercing. Too violent. He did this in practice. He did this in games.

Hospitalization was not required to Hicks’ knowledge. This receiver did not return to the game.

“When you see it, you’ll say, ‘Wait a minute, is that kid alive?’” Hicks adds. “It looks like he literally slices this guy in half.”

As a man, in the pros, he make a mockery of basic physics. Immediately. Game No. 1, in São Paulo, Brazil, wide receiver A.J. Brown stalked upfield with plans to manhandle Bullard at the second level. Understandable. The Philadelphia Eagles receiver is 30+ pounds heavier. His muscles have muscles. He’s got an eight-pack. Seven percent body fat. And… yeah. So much for delivering a Welcome to the NFL moment. Bullard gained leverage to dump truck Brown. He stared down at his body and shook his head.

Linebacker Isaiah McDuffie says teammates audibly hear such violence.

“It sounds,” McDuffie says, “like someone just got hit by a train.”

In-between — at the University of Georgia — a boy became a man.

This is the best place to start. “Bull” has forever approached this sport with the emotional sensitivity of an actual Spanish Fighting Bull, so those first few practices were bound to be contentious. He had no clue the quarterback was completely off-limits. As a freshman, Bullard beelined toward J.T. Daniels and describes his sack as more aggressive swipe than all-out takedown. Offensive linemen went ballistic. Defensive players had his back. Coaches? All coaches preach the virtues of playing fast, but only a select few are willing to take the good with the bad. That’s Kirby Smart. He didn’t exile Bullard 73.5 miles back to Milledgeville, no, Georgia’s head coach knows this instinct is primitive. He’s an alpha who’ll butt heads with alphas, too. At one point this night — in the most affectionate tone possible — Bullard jokes, “I hated his guts!” The more they butted heads, the closer they became.

The best defensive players are destined to cross a line.

“I don’t want to live a life of regret,” Bullard says. “Like, ‘Damn, I should’ve done that.’ Hell nah. Go 110 percent in whatever the hell you’re doing.”

He thinks back to life inside Sanford Stadium and smacks his hands together. When those lights turned on, something inside of him came alive. “I do whatever the hell I have to do,” he says, “when I need to do it.” He wasn’t vocal for the sake of being vocal. Speeches were rare. But whenever Bullard started talking, the locker room went silent. If a message needed to be delivered, it was impossible to hold his tongue.

“I’ll be the bad guy,” he says. “Fuck it. Make me the villain.”

That’s a word we hear often in this sport. He’s not the first testosterone-fueled DB torpedoing receivers into tomorrow. I ask what exactly goes into being a villain and he cites that line-crossing.

He points to the seminal moment of his football life: the “Marvin Harrison thing.”

How Bullard approached football was officially put on trial in front of 22.1 million viewers.

In the 2022 College Football Playoff semifinals, Georgia’s season was on life support. Forty-three seconds remained in the third quarter and Ohio State led, 35-24, with the ball at the Bulldogs’ 7-yard line. It was third and goal. Facing an all-out blitz, quarterback C.J. Stroud faded right and lobbed a high-arching prayer to Harrison in the back of the end zone. Bull (again) saw red. Bull (again) blasted through the wide receiver. This vicious crashing sound is accompanied by an echo, a chilling “Ooooo!” by all eyewitnesses as if witnessing a Talladega crash. One teammate rushes over to an immobile Harrison. Flags fly. Bullard — initially — is penalized for targeting, which means an automatic ejection.

Upon review, however, officials ruled that Bullard struck Harrison legally.

Zoom in, slow the replay to a crawl, and the legislation made perfect sense. Bullard always drilled receivers with so much force that refs instinctively throw laundry — like that Westlake “decapitation.” This ability to locate and strike an ever-shrinking bull’s eye in real time blows Hicks’ mind. He didn’t teach Bullard this. Nobody did.

This CFP call proved seismic. Bullard stayed in the game, Harrison was finished, the Buckeyes settled for a field goal and, of course, the Bulldogs rallied to win, 42-41. They steamrolled TCU, 62-7, in the national title. Simultaneously, the kid from Milledgeville went viral. Buckeyes coach Ryan Day ripped him. To all of Columbus, Bullard became Public Enemy No. 1. Even the Big Ten’s coordinator of officials labeled the hit “dangerous.” Scars remain.

“I’m the bad guy because of a play,” says Bullard. “If I didn’t do that? We’d lose. The outcome might not have been the same. Now, I’m a dirty player. What the fuck y’all want?”

He sounds frustrated… briefly. Only briefly. Bullard decided to weaponize this backlash and go full Joker mode.

“Perspective over perception,” he says. “Y’all perceive me to be this, but OK. I view your perception. Now, it’s my perspective. I’m going to take what you say and make it true. I’ll be the villain. That’s cool. I’ll be the bad guy. What’s next?”

Football is a microcosm of life. He’ll go back to school to finish his degree in consumer economics, but this lesson will forever prove more valuable than a piece of paper. Anyone in any profession can play it safe and kiss all appropriate corporate asses. Avoid controversy. Don’t do anything that threatens your paycheck from depositing every two weeks. That’s one impulse. Bullard represents the other. Bullard knows such a banal existence also has consequences — it zaps innovation.

Change? Apologize?

No. Hell no.

Right then, he vowed to keep testing boundaries. If it makes others uncomfortable, so be it.

Rebels in this 99th percentile typically don’t have this epiphany until they’ve been shamed across NFL headlines. In a chat with Go Long last season, firebrand Houston Texans linebacker Azeez Al-Shaair relived the time in ‘24 the NFL’s own VP of Football Operations, ex-lineman Jon Runyan, all but declared him the shield’s official Darth Vader in a letter disseminated to mass media. “He wrote that letter,” Al-Shaair told us, “as if I personally slapped him in the face.” The linebacker spiraled into a cycle of paranoia, anxiety, depression, the darkest thoughts we can imagine. It wasn’t until midway through the 2025 season that Al-Shaair finally let go and quit stressing over where that dirty/clean line exists within the league’s 241-page rulebook. He distilled this play-to-play calculation down to simple logic. (“You’re trying to embarrass me. I’m trying to embarrass you.”)

Bullard nods. He experienced the same awakening.

Think too much and Harrison catches that touchdown.

Think too much and Georgia doesn’t win it all.

“Now, you’re timid,” he says. “Now, you’re just thinking, ‘Uhh, I don’t want to get fined! I don’t want to get flagged!’ No, bro. Do that shit. Deal with the consequences. Go to the next play.”

This is the mindset of a dagger. A mindset the Green Bay Packers have lacked for too long. Bullard was 12 years old when this team choked away the 2014 NFC Championship in Seattle, juuuuust old enough to see the eerie parallels to this past January. Ex-Packers are still traumatized by that evening at CenturyLink Field. Ninety-nine point nine nine nine percent of viewers assumed the game was over when Morgan Burnett intercepted quarterback Russell Wilson. Future Hall of Famer Julius Peppers gave Burnett the “no mas” signal to slide. The safety obliged. Green Bay took over with a 19-7 lead and only 5 minutes remaining.

Looking back, this slide was akin to assuming Michael Myers will bleed out in a dark alley.

A wide angle of the replay revealed that if Burnett runs past a cluster of linemen (likely), he only needed to beat Wilson for a TD.

Bullard looks disgusted.

“What are you sliding for? On defense?” Bullard says. “I’ll tell you this: I’m never sliding. Unless we already got the game and the clock hits zero. Other than that? I’m never sliding. Ever. You can’t play passive, man.”

Catastrophe ensued. If head coach Mike McCarthy doesn’t call plays with the aggressiveness of your great Aunt Gertrude at the wheel or if Brandon Bostick lets Jordy Nelson recover an onside kick or if Ha Ha Clinton-Dix doesn’t grossly mistime a 2-point prayer, Burnett’s interception is remembered differently. The NFL is cruel. Playoff games are won on the margins.

You’d be hard-pressed to find a gentler soul in that Packers locker room than Burnett. We spent many days at his locker debating NBA topics. He was a positive influence. A leader.

Thing is, this club needed players who are not particularly nice. To win those margins, a nasty edge is required. The late-great Ted Thompson did many things right as Packers GM. His teams went 125-82-1 in 13 seasons with nine playoff appearances. The No. 1 reason those Packers didn’t win more than one ring, though, was his propensity to steer clear of this breed of defensive player. The bad guy. After playing it safe for a while, like his mentor, Brian Gutekunst is now taking swings. He correctly saw that hit on Harrison as a missing ingredient.

Dig deeper into Bullard’s past and it’s clear why he plays with this edge.

Give a gift subscription

Milledgeville Man

All of our grandmothers would approve of these portions. Seafood piles onto plates here at Legends. Our waitress recommends the flounder and I see why. Two slabs of fish hang off my plate by roughly 1 ½ inches each side. Hush puppies and French fries occupy all vacant space. Everything’s devoured.

Bullard orders fried calamari but hardly touches his food because the ring-to-tentacle ratio is off. Roughly 80:20 and, eh, these tentacles are too lifelike. Plus, he’s got a meal waiting for him. After hanging out here, Bullard will head to the lake to stay at an Airbnb with friends — his girlfriend is one hell of a cook. The two have been together since 10^th grade. She’s the one. “World full of chaos,” he says. “Trying to do shit the right way.”

On the lake, the crew will watch a comedy. Bullard views gut-splitting merriment as good for the soul. He watched “White Chicks” the previous night, considers “Dumb and Dumber” a classic and cannot wait for “Scary Movie 6” to drop June 12. This spoof on horror particularly aligns with his worldview that everyone needs to quit being so soft, so sensitive. “You can’t say anything,” he says. “Everybody gets offended.” Inevitably, the friends will play spades. Or Tonk. Or Knock. Or a party game such as “Heads Up!” and “Taboo.” These sessions begin with plenty of laughs and giggles. “But shit,” Bullard adds, “all that laughing goes out the window when you start losing.” Partners snipe at each other for not pulling their weight.

It gets heated. Trash talk ratchets up. Close friends become even closer.

All while one of Bullard’s best friends in attendance knows how close he was to never living to see a night like this.

“A homeboy,” Bullard says, “who was literally grazed by a bullet.”

One night in Milledgeville, a shootout broke out. Everyone ran.

The bullet scraped his rib cage. One or two more inches and he’s dead.

Bullard shares this all with zero dramatics. He might as well be opining on the weather because — to him? — such a dalliance with death is not outrageous. Milledgeville, he explains, presents the “reality of life” firsthand. Beer? Drugs? Guns? Teens can get their hands on anything in a town this small. Ask if friends of his have been shot and killed and Bullard looks as if I’ve got a foot growing out of my skull. Of course he knows people locked up in prison. Of course he has friends six feet under.

“You go to a party? Shit. You hope it don’t get shot up. Ask anybody in there,” says Bullard, nodding toward the dining area. “They’ll probably say the same thing.

“I’m no stranger to danger.”

Play by play, he brings the scene to life. A house party. A block party. Everything starts perfectly fine for all in attendance. But as music booms, Bullard learned how to sharpen his periphery vision. First, he’d see someone in a baggy shirt and sagging pants arrive — a telltale sign that this person was concealing a firearm. This suspicious person starts whispering into the ear of someone, and that’s your cue.

Run.

Fast.

Never in a straight line, either.

“You bob and weave,” he says. “Bob and weave, man!”

The pop-pop-pop sound of gunfire, the sight of blood splattering, losing a friend. Bullard grew numb to it all. Shootouts broke out so frequently that he’d get more aggravated than scared. Pissed off that somebody had to ruin a good time. The cause was always absurd. Petty disputes over money and women were settled with guns, not fists. After one deadly weekend in 2021, one police captain cited “a lack of respect for human life.” Bullard sees another factor at play.

“It’s easy access,” Bullard says. “That’s the motto of this generation. Everything. We want everything easy. How quickly can I do something? How quickly can I get it done? How easy can it be?”

Yet, Bullard returns home as much as possible. Many NFL’ers leave the past in the past — he won’t, he can’t. He’s certain seeing this thin line between life and death hardened him.

All childhood friends ventured down one of three distinct paths.

“Homies that become great, successful people. Businessmen. Homies that are in cell block B right now. Homies that are no longer with us. … What are you going to do?”

When you’re relaxing one moment and sprinting for your life the next, fear isn’t an option. Existential questions must be faced head-on. Bullard accepted his reality — “life is short” — and applied all urgency, all fearlessness to his greatest passion: football. From age 5, Bullard always played with older kids. That’s life as a little brother. On a deeper level, his passion was fueled by an old-fashioned respect for his elders in the sport.

He understands football was played long before he was born.

“So I feel like I’m paying my due to the game,” Bullard says. “If you go out there and you’re timid and you’re shy and you don’t really feel like playing and shit? Then, what are you out here doing it for? That’s how you end up getting hurt. That’s how you end up getting somebody else hurt. You’re wasting your time. Go ahead and do something.”

When he turned on the TV, one player attacked every snap as if tomorrow wasn’t promised. His favorite player growing up is still his favorite player today.

Tyrann Mathieu. The “Honey Badger.” Nearly a decade ago, the LSU legend-turned pariah-turned NFL All Pro told me in his living room that a generation of kids was looking up to him. At the time, I chalked the comment up as harmless hyperbole. Now, those kids are in their 20s and you’ll have a hard time finding an NFL defensive back who wasn’t influenced by Mathieu.

Bullard never wanted to attend Georgia — “hell no!” — because LSU was his dream school. He wanted to wear No. 7, rock arm bands and dye his hair blonde when Mathieu finished fifth in the Heisman Trophy voting. The nickname was perfect. Mathieu was uniquely rabid in his approach to the sport, creating 15 turnovers his two collegiate seasons.

“A dog,” Bullard says. “There’s only a handful of people who make football cool. Football is football, but it ain’t always been cool. He really epitomized the DB position — making it fun, making it swaggy. Especially for my generation.”

Like Mathieu, there was nothing physically imposing about Bullard. Like Mathieu, he made up for it with a ravenous play style. He weighed all of 165 pounds in high school, yet whenever Bullard struck opponents? Wideouts to pulling guards? They always went backward. Hicks called him a “bottle rocket” his freshman year. In time, this analogy proved too weak. “He could run,” Hicks says, “and knock the living hell out of you.” Every time Bullard returned to the sideline, they dissected the X’s and O’s. Hicks viewed him as an extra coach on staff.

From afar, the high school coach was not surprised to see Bullard speak up after the Bears loss. In 9th grade, he’d speak up to 12th-graders.

Hicks saw that look in the kid’s face before. He was pissed.

“It’s a controlled nastiness,” Hicks says. “It never came out as cussing anybody out. It was the way he led.”

Bull misses the innocence of those high school days. Little things like going to Hibbett Sports with his buddies on gameday to buy all sorts of apparel and decorate his cleats. There was no dress code telling him which socks to wear. He tells current athletes at Baldwin High School to cherish every second. Granted, individualism had its limits. Bullard never was allowed to bleach his hair like the Honey Badger. Mom vetoed this request in approximately 2.3 seconds because Bullard assures Mom is also a “dog.” Shonda Bullard, a nurse practitioner, accomplishes anything she wants in life. Most recently, she earned her master’s degree. Growing up, the two loved watching sports debates on TV. So much that Bullard considered pursuing a journalism degree.

Bull knows Mom is the No. 1 reason he’s so bold, so unapologetically himself.

Dad was in the military and Mom believed in tough love. Neither coddled their son. Shonda instructed Hicks to be strict himself.

“Some parents entitle their children these days,” Hicks says. “She never did that. She held his butt responsible. … Mom? Oh my goodness. She is the nucleus. She’s the glue.”

In Athens, reality continued to test son’s resolve.

In September 2021, he was arrested for a DUI charge and six other misdemeanors. He took a mug shot in the orange jump suit, was released on a $4,200 bond, faced public embarrassment and was promptly suspended. He needed this wake-up call. “It changed his mindset,” Hicks recalls. “It enhances your gift. The rearview is smaller than the windshield.” A few months later, his life changed with that hit on Harrison. He won a second national title. And then, tragedy. One of his best friends, Chandler LeCroy, died. The 24-year-old recruiting analyst and Bulldogs player Devin Willock were both killed in a car crash hours following a victory parade. According to police, LeCroy was racing Georgia star Jalen Carter through the streets of Athens when she lost control of the vehicle and crashed around 2:45 a.m. She was traveling 104 mph. A toxicology report indicated her BAC was .197.

To this day, the pinned post on Bullard’s X account is a photograph with LeCroy.

He lists off the nicknames of other close friends who’ve died over the years.

“The reality of this beautiful thing called life,” he says. “So you take those licks and you keep going.”

Life inside this restaurant offers a hopeful contrast to those shootouts. Stick around long enough and we’ll see Shonda take the mic at Legends. Friday is Karaoke Night. (Son does not sing, no.) On Saturdays, a DJ takes over and everyone’s on the dance floor. On Sundays, TVs flip over to the Packers game and all eyes fixate on No. 20.

He harbors nothing but love for his city. It’s getting much safer. The next day, he’ll host a family fun day at the local park. Everyone’s invited.

Bullard treasures what he calls “clean, fun, safe, old-fashioned fun.”

“That fun,” he adds, “that my grandmother used to have. They didn’t have to worry about nobody losing their life. That’s what makes this place special to me. That’s why I always come home. It keeps me levelheaded. It keeps me centered. Shit, I come home because I feel regular. I still feel like that little boy playing football. Still doing the same shit I was doing back then. Just got a little bit more money.”

Something like that.

A few seconds later, Bullard removes a Rose Gold grill from his mouth to eat a calamari ring.

Times have changed.

Share Go Long

Subscribe now

‘Let me be me’

He’s allergic to bullshit. If he told the press how he really felt through a maddening rookie season, there would be trouble. Best he could, Javon Bullard bit his tongue.

To his core, he believed the Green Bay Packers were trying to turn him into something he is not.

All tribal instincts sharpened from Milledgeville to Athens were suppressed. He felt dumbed down to a robotic knockoff version of himself. Put your right foot here. Put your left foot there. Before the snap, his mind was cluttered with minutiae. Further, the entire defense wasn’t on the same page most of this ’24 season. (“At all.”) Bullard didn’t say anything publicly or privately. “I’m a rookie,” Bullard admits, “so nobody gives a fuck what you think.” Still, he hated the player he was becoming.

One more turning point was required. He remembered all that Buckeye backlash — staying true to himself amid hysteria — and refused to get bogged down by bullet points. In Year 2, Bullard decided to trust everything he saw on film.

What changed? Over dinner, he leans forward to lock in eye contact.

“I honestly think it was me not giving a fuck,” Bullard says. “When I’m going out here, I’m going to trust what I see, trust my study. I’m going to do shit how ‘Bull’ sees it.”

It paid off. Bullard totaled 83 tackles (49 solo), three pass breakups and one fumble recovery last season. Most telling, per PFF, he allowed 0.63 yards per coverage as a nickel. Only one player in the entire league was better: All-Pro Kyle Hamilton. The slot position afforded more creativity. He started to accurately predict just about everything. And if he was wrong? If an offense ran something a specific way 59 times before doing it differently the 60^th time? He could live with those results. This relentless search for the “Why” behind how offenses attacked Green Bay powered his game — a word he repeats four times in one response.

OK, Green Bay, Wisconsin was not exactly this Georgia boy’s preferred destination on draft weekend. Thinking back, it was minus-17 degrees when he left town for this offseason. Even Brett Favre — 39-6 in sub-40 temps from ’91 to ‘04 — did not enjoy the cold. Nor is this market a bastion of diversity. Bull soon realized this was a match made in football heaven. He dubs the NFL’s smallest market the “perfect place” for who genuinely loves football. Distractions are damn near nonexistent.

So, here’s the play by play of his life today. Bullard lives across the street from Lambeau Field in the city’s “Titletown District.” In the living room of his quaint apartment, Bullard lounges between his girlfriend’s legs. They relax. Catch up. And right when she starts TikTok’ing or hits play on “Bad Girls Club,” Bullard turns on his tablet to watch film and take notes. Both get their fix.

A scene the man who resurrected this franchise saw in a crystal ball 30+ years prior.

Ron Wolf’s task was gargantuan when he was hired as this team’s general manager. These Packers made the playoffs all of two times between 1968 and 1992. His corner of the country was viewed more as a gulag by NFL vets. As free agency loomed — granting more player freedom — the organization ran the risk of becoming obsolete. Wolf was undeterred because Wolf identified one intrinsic advantage. Here, it’s all about football. “Everything,” he once told Go Long, is “geared toward the player.” That was the inherent greatness of the franchise, back to Lombardi and Lambeau.

Said Wolf: “It’s not about going to some owner’s wife’s tea party. This affair or that affair. It’s about playing football and being a professional football player.”

Week-in, week-out, Bullard closely studies his adversary in the slot.

All tendencies, all mannerisms. Personal film work is what led to Bullard stuffing a pair of screen passes against Washington. He points to another play later in the season. Against the New York Giants — 1:22 to go, clinging to 27-20 lead — Bullard knew exactly what was coming when Wan’Dale Robinson sped in motion. Robinson was going vertical. No. 20 forced No. 17 into the sideline to force an end-zone incompletion. Two snaps later, teammate Evan Williams picked off a pass to win.

His physicality has a galvanizing effect.

“Guys feed off of his play style,” McDuffie says. “When you see your nickel back smacking people, you’re like, ‘OK. I need to lay the wood, too.’”

The Packers smashed Minnesota (23-6), outlasted the Lions in a Turkey Day thriller (31-24), and triumphed over Chicago at Lambeau Field. Bullard was excellent. He supplied one of the team’s six hits on Caleb Williams in a 28-21 win.

It was Dec. 7. The team’s record was 9-3-1.

Super Bowl dreams were real.

They never won again.

Once the cadaver was transported north for a full autopsy, this team’s cause of death had nothing to do with what transpired at Soldier Field in the wild card. The lethal injection for these 2025 Packers was administered one month prior, precisely 5,280 feet above sea level. Against the Denver Broncos, sure, they lost all-galaxy pass rusher Micah Parsons to a torn ACL. But that afternoon they lost something even more valuable.

Their pride.

After the play, on the sideline, Broncos safety Talanoa Hufanga shoved quarterback Jordan Love’s head. It was blatant. It was objectively dirty. And all the Packers did was stand around and point, as if tattle-telling on the playground. A pitiful display. You only get one opportunity to make a statement. An appropriate retaliation is worth 15 yards. Hell, 150 yards. Because if you do nothing — like Matt LaFleur’s Packers — you’ll get bullied again. And again. And again. And before you know it, a rival coach is punking you in front of the world.

The more apt analogy is what we see in hockey. This was an NHL team refusing to stand up to a goon who bum-rushed their goalie.

Former enforcer T.J. Lang was never shy. He took out anybody who took a cheap shot on a teammate.

The longtime guard articulated the effect beautifully on the podcast.

“There’s no negotiation. Because I see a lot of the comments like, ‘Oh, LaFleur coaches them this way.’ … I don’t give a damn. Honestly, I swear to God, I’d rather go into the locker room with my coaches screaming at me in a team meeting room and then walk in the locker room and have 50-fucking-5 guys fist bump me and be like, ‘We got your back,’ then to sit there and not do anything? And the coaches say, “Hey, great job. Way to restrain yourself after watching your quarterback get cheap-shotted.” And then you’re wondering what the guys in the locker room are thinking about you. I’d rather have it the first way every day. I’d rather have it that way. “You can fool your coaches. You ain’t going to fool your teammates.

“Your teammates are going to know exactly who the fuck you are.”

Bullard wasn’t anywhere near the play. Asked about this cheap shot, he draws a blank. Which is telling. The play should’ve been addressed to the entire team Monday AM.

Nobody should’ve been stunned by the playoff collapse that soon followed.

Bullard is only one player. His personal code should be adopted by all.

“Play within the rules of the game,” Bullard says. “But play with every fucking bone in your body. Don’t settle for nothing.

“Attack it.”

Many coaches (and players) in the NFL believe this works like a power switch in an electrical room deep in the bowels of a stadium. Gameday arrives and — voila! — you turn it on. Farcical delusion. The best coaches understand you must “attack” in practice. This is a lifestyle. The last two champs told the world in blunt language what led them to the big stage. Linebacker Zack Baun detailed the “Wrath of Vic.” Philadelphia’s defensive coordinator, Vic Fangio, was demanding. Wide receiver Cooper Kupp, mid-celebration, brought up OTAs. Mike Macdonald was extremely tough on guys in Seattle. Palpable energy that drew everyone closer. “I knew we had something special,” Kupp said.

Bullard understands he’s not in the SEC anymore, but he’s got friends on other teams — like fellow Bulldog Kamari Lassiter in Houston. Elsewhere, it’s different.

“I almost got kicked out of practice for being overly aggressive,” Bullard says. “You definitely play within the rules of the game, and you want to be a good teammate. But don’t ever lose that competitor. I’m all for erring on the line. I want to be on that damn line. You’ve got to tell me to, ‘Hey Bull, chill the hell out.’ Rather than I’m not doing shit, I’m not going hard enough, and you’re like, ‘Damn, c’mon Bull.’ I’d rather my dog be aggressive than my dog be a slouch.”

This doesn’t mean coaches should bring back two-a-days, ban hydration and round up the boys for a CTE-inducing rendition of Bull in the Ring. But a killer instinct in games is only possible if players are allowed to bring that level of energy in practice.

Yanking that chain on your dog defeats the purpose. Fights nature.

Especially with players who’ve abided by a seek-and-destroy doctrine since age 5.

“Like everything in life,” Bullard explains, “people want to be able to control that. You can’t control that. And I don’t think you want to. In this profession, that’s not something you want to control. Let your player be a player. Let him be passionate. Let him be who he is. I’m pretty sure if I wasn’t the person that I am, I wouldn’t be playing for the Packers.”

Bullard offers a gentle plea: “Let me be me.”

Props to Brian Gutekunst for selecting Bullard with the 58th pick. His ’24 draft has the potential to give Green Bay postseason venom. In the same spring, he selected linebacker Edgerrin Cooper and throwback safety Evan Williams. The GM also traded two first-round picks and invested $46 million per year for Parsons, a perennial DPOY candidate who fights through the echo of the whistle. On offense, brawling lineman Sean Rhyan once shared a peculiar story with us. When one D-tackle was bull-rushing him in a pad-less practice, the 321-pounder who lives by a “kill ‘em all” mindset told himself: “Fuck that I’m going to bury you.”

Rhyan buried that defender into the grass.

LaFleur was pissed. LaFleur berated him in front of the entire team.

A style of coaching that can bake into the makeup of any team, to the point of tapping the brakes at the worst moments. History isn’t on LaFleur’s side. Only four NFL head coaches have won a Super Bowl at this point or beyond with their first team. This is the evolution he needs. Encourage attack mode instead of constantly throttling down.

Bullard has spoken with new Packers defensive coordinator Jonathan Gannon and offered all unfiltered thoughts.

His dream role? Anything that keeps him on the field. Bull would love to be weaponized like the human harpoon in Houston: Jalen Pitre. From Week 8 to 16, Pitre played 100 percent of the defensive snaps. At Arrowhead, his crushing hit on Kansas City’s Rashee Rice was the game-changing play in a season-changing win. This Texans’ 2025 defense might’ve been immortalized in ’85 Bears-, ’00 Ravens-, Legion of Boom-like lore if it received average quarterback play in the postseason. It did not. Even so, the last two champs won with suffocating defenses that showed no mercy.

Philly humiliated one of three greatest quarterbacks of all-time. Patrick Mahomes didn’t cross midfield until the score was 34-0.

Seattle devoured the quarterback who lost the MVP award by one of the thinnest margins ever. Drake Maye went three and out on six possessions.

“Your defense is going to win you everything,” Bullard says. “I want the Packers to understand that. Hell, I want the whole league to understand that you build around that defense. When you’ve got so many guys that really take pride in what they doing — really want to dominate — the sky’s the limit. That’s the recipe for all 32 teams. Get you some dogs that really don’t give a fuck.”

Suggest that Bullard can be the voice who brings this attitude to Green Bay and he laughs a gregarious laugh in agreement.

The key is being himself. Anything less is “settling” — and he vows to never, ever settle.

He doesn’t want anybody on this roster masquerading as somebody they’re not.

“If you are an asshole? Be an asshole every day,” he says. “Don’t be an asshole Monday and then try to flip it on Wednesday when media comes in. Nah, I hate those. That shit grinds my gears. If you’re going to be arrogant, be arrogant every day. Be confident every day. Don’t pick and choose when this shit is acceptable. Be yourself. Be who you are. Be how you were raised. Be what you truly believe in. That’s going to get you farther than pretending.”

Football remains a violent enterprise despite the league’s foray into flag and hypocritical infomercials suggesting the sport is safe. An “asshole” or two… or three… or four is required. Bull is much obliged. Bull promises to speak up if anyone lollygags between plays. He’ll get into the grill of opposing receivers, too. Never to talk down on opponents. He prefers to build himself up.

“Like, ‘Motherfucker, you got to feel it. You got to see me! I ain’t going nowhere!’”

Bullard has a sneaking suspicion the schedule-makers will ensure Green Bay and Chicago face each other in primetime twice. Perhaps in Week 1.

Words will be exchanged.

‘Big brother’

Turn right on E Camden Street, loop onto N Wayne Street and good luck finding a parking spot. Huey Park is packed. All grass lots are full. Cars snake along both sides of N Wayne. Vehicles squeeze in wherever possible.

Hip-hop blares from the speakers.

Laughter is louder.

Clouds loiter overhead, but it never rains on this sweltering 81-degree day.

This “Family Fun Day” is everything Javon Bullard envisioned.

Milledgeville, Ga., gave him a key to the city in 2023 — and so much more — so he wanted to return the favor. Oversized F-U-N-D-A-Y letters greet locals with bundles of green, yellow and white balloons. Nobody needs to pay anything. The park’s full of food trucks, horse rides, a bouncy house and it’s all on Bullard’s dime. This is the “old-fashioned fun” he craves. He made sure this party included a police presence both at the entrance and inside the festival. There’s not an inkling violence.

Hundreds are decked out in Georgia and Packers gear. There are No. 20 and No. 22 jerseys, obviously, but also a hearty number of homemade Bullard-themed shirts. One sparkles in green glitter.

Group to group, the magnetic Bullard engages in vibrant conversation with everyone.

Black families, white families. Kids, senior citizens.

Old friendships are rekindled. New friendships, forged.

He’s not the first local to go pro. Maurice Hurt, Leroy Hill and ex-Browns running back Earnest Byner are all from Milledgeville. But nobody’s had the opportunity to inspire this town at this time quite like Bullard. Milledgeville’s crime has been on the decline the last five years. Maybe it’s no coincidence this improvement aligns with his rise. And if he can serve as a guiding light here, why not at 1265 Lombardi Avenue?

Mom takes the microphone to thank everyone for coming and promises Javon will get to everyone he possibly can for photos and autographs. Bullard — a towel draped from his pocket, a fountain drink in his right hand — bobs his head to the beat of Archie Eversole’s timeless “We Ready!” It’s the same song that had Soldier Field quaking seconds before Packers-Bears.

The Chicago rematch would be a fine place to start.

Nothing went awry at halftime. Whether the score was 21-3 or 3-21, Bullard believes the same words would’ve been spoken at halftime. Problem is, it’s not about words. Bullard cites a “feel,” a raw emotion, that was absent inside the visitor’s locker room that frigid Chicago night.

“Everybody has to feel it,” Bullard says. “Not just the players. Coaches, too. Everybody got to feel that shit. We can’t just be out there saying, ‘Keep your foot on their neck! Don’t let up.’ And then you let up. That defeats the purpose.”

When I ask if LaFleur has this energy to him, Bullard cites the “elite” coaching he received at Georgia. Kirby Smart’s pregame speeches made him want to run through the nearest wall. He likes his new coach’s style. How LaFleur makes sure his gelled hair is extra “crispy.” Still, he sees a stark difference between LaFleur and Detroit’s Dan Campbell or New England’s Mike Vrabel. Not that either one is a better coach, he cautions, but both are master motivators. Alphas.

Vrabel once said on a podcast that he’d cut off his penis to win a Super Bowl.

Some coaches flat-out refuse to be emasculated. If an opposing coach said “Fuck the Patriots!” on a Sunday, there’s a reasonable chance that poor sap would need his jaw wired shut by Monday.

We’re about to see how much fight LaFleur has in him. Ben Johnson has been trolling him since the day he was introduced as the Bears head coach. When he called out LaFleur by name, everyone assumed the two were old pals. Uh, no. A calendar year later, Johnson stomped all over Green Bay’s grave with those F-bombs inside the locker room. All for an owner, George McCaskey, who once banned profanity from airing on his team’s Hard Knocks appearance. The Bears are evolving.

Bullard hopes Johnson’s rebel yell ignites something inside of LaFleur. He admits that you never know how people will react to getting called out.

“We’re going to see,” he adds.

Either way, a killer instinct is desperately needed. Javon Bullard, in full, is best equipped to spark such a revolution.

Before any fantasies of winning a championship, the Packers must beat the Bears.

Hell no, he won’t give his adversary an inch. Bullard says the Bears were bailed out by various penalties. The snap before Caleb Williams’ fourth-and-8 sorcery, center Drew Dalman sailed a snap over his head. If not for Dalman’s false start, the game could’ve ended right then. But Bullard points his finger first at the Packers. There were drops on offense, lapses on defense. Make the same mistake twice in the NFL, Bullard adds, “and you’re gone.” Coaches can only do so much. Parsons is the best pass rusher he’s ever seen with his own eyes but Bullard refuses to use his absence as an excuse, noting Green Bay’s D mounted a 21-3 lead without him.

I point out that Chicago scored 25 points in the fourth quarter.

Bullard grimaces as if stabbed in the abdomen. He cannot fathom this number.

“That is bad! That’s bad, man. That’s bad.”

The linebacker who nearly sacked Williams on that critical fourth down is following Bull’s lead. Isaiah McDuffie isn’t sticking his head in the sand. He has rewatched this play and visualized himself — this time — completing the sack. “You’ve got to move past it, but remember it,” McDuffie says. “The next time that opportunity presents itself, seal the deal.” McDuffie is one of the longest-tenured players on the roster.

He goes back to the team’s playoff heartbreak as a No. 1 seed vs. San Francisco in 2021 and he views Bull’s personality as a missing piece.

When one of the lightest players on defense lights up a receiver, it makes him want to do the same. McDuffie agrees the Packers must lean into this rivalry.

“We didn’t finish,” McDuffie says. “We know we let them off the hook and it left a really bad taste in our mouth. Everyone in that locker room can’t wait to play them again. It’s good for the league — a Bears-Packers rivalry. We want to run the North and we know we have to beat them to do that.”

When these teams meet again, Johnson’s clip will re-loop tens of thousands of times on social. Inform Bullard that his comments may also resurface and he does not care. Again, he’ll live in reality.

Nobody can pretend as if the animosity between these two clubs does not exist.

“We love it. We embrace that. Shit, I can’t wait,” Bullard says. “Everybody says every game is the same, but it’s not. I’m keeping it 100. Every game is not the same. You might prepare the same way for every game, but the feeling? It’s going to be different. You get a different tingle in your body. When certain things happen — when we play Chicago? — the shit is there.

“The energy’s there. Your whole damn body vibrates, man.”

That vibration begins the moment players step off the team bus.

He speaks romantically about Bears fans shouting obscenities his direction, booing until they’re hoarse. Bullard wishes everyone in life could experience this adrenaline rush once in their life. (“A beautiful feeling.”) Something special is embedded deep into the DNA of this rivalry. Over dinner in ‘24, that’s what Hall of Famer LeRoy Butler tried to impart on another Packers DB. Butler educated Evan Williams on the exact moment he realized this matchup meant more. He was getting his ankles taped, in 1990, when veteran linebacker Brian Noble informed him it was Bears Week.

Butler continued to put on his cleats without much of a reaction. “No,” Noble said, “we are playing the Bears.” His point: By football law, you are supposed to hate this team with a passion.

Beat the Bears, Butler told Williams, and you’re treated like royalty.

For three decades, Green Bay has dominated the matchup. Brett Favre and Aaron Rodgers are a combined 48-18 against Chicago.

Bullard is aware. He still views this as a “big brother-little brother” relationship.

“They got two little wins last year,” Bullard says. “But don’t forget who the big brother is. We’re still big brother. They got a long way to go before they can try to shit on us. But we got to show them, too. We can’t just talk that shit. We’ve got to be about it. So it’s going to be hell next year, man.

“It’s going to be hell.”

Hostility that should be welcomed, not shunned, by everyone back in Wisconsin.

There are coaches (and PR staffs) who hear language like this and call a player into the principal’s office for a tisk-tisk lecture. Then, there are coaches who cheer it on. Coaches who take these words, plaster them up on a projector screen and compel everyone on the roster to think exactly like Javon Bullard.

It’s high time the Packers morphed into the latter.

This night, anything feels possible in Milledgeville. The local legend cannot simply walk out of Legends. Bullard daps up a DJ in the corner, makes small talk with a mother of two little girls waiting for a table and — upon taking 1 ½ strides toward the front door to exit? — hears his name called in the bar area one more time. Two middle-aged women recognize him. He does a 180 and hugs both.

Eventually, we make our way past that No. 22 jersey on the wall and head into the night sky.

Walking through the parking lot, Bullard arrives at the realization that it’s only March and lets out a deep sigh. To him, this NFL offseason is too damn long. All this talk about the Bears and being the “bad guy” and the Honey Badger makes him want to strap on the pads this Sunday. Alas, he must wait six months to crash into another team.

Bull is ready.

Are the Packers?

Thank you for supporting independent journalism.

We’ve love it if you shared Go Long with a friend.

Subscribe now

Share

Give a gift subscription

Related:

The NFL career of Malik Willis appeared finished almost immediately.

He was drafted 86th overall in 2022. He struggled throwing the ball with those Tennessee Titans as a rookie. The Titans drafted another quarterback. Soon enough, he was shipped north for a seventh-round pick.

Now, this offseason, Willis represents one of the sport’s greatest redemption stories. The quarterback inked a three-year, $67 million contract to be the next starting quarterback of the Miami Dolphins. He’ll now try to lead this franchise to its first playoff win in 26 years. Auburn to Liberty to Tennessee to Green Bay to — now — Miami, this has been quite a quarterback odyssey.

How did he get to this point? What comes next?

To learn more, Go Long chatted at length with the man who knows Willis’ game best: Sean McEvoy of Quarterback Takeover.

McEvoy has been working with Willis since his senior year of high school in 2016 and explains exactly how he got here.

The keys to an NFL franchise are now his.

Topics covered include:

• Being overlooked at Auburn. How did Willis handle the snub?

• Breaking out at Liberty.

• Draft Weekend. It was wildly disappointing for everyone, but Willis’ demeanor shocked family and friends. (“Malik was the one picking up the room.”)

• In another universe — if Willis isn’t thrust into action as a rookie — what happens? Mike Vrabel had a developmental plan.

• Whenever he did get overlooked, Willis’ response has been the same. He doesn’t play victim or smite the football gods. (“The situations he went through would’ve completely ruined guys. And that’s not just hypothetical. … They quit altogether.”)

• The moment everything clicked in the pros? He was still a Titan.

• Willis was dynamite in 1 1/2 games last season. McEvoy explains why he believes that version of Willis is here to stay through the course of a 17-game season. (“That’s who he is. You’re just going to see that multiply out.”)

• Everyone saw Willis give his NFL Combine gear to a homeless woman who was also pregnant. He doesn’t do this stuff for the cameras. McEvoy has witnessed this scene many times.

• Jon-Eric Sullivan is the new Dolphins GM. Jeff Hafley is the head coach. Malik Willis is the QB. None of this is an accident. (“The people that have been around him have no doubt of what he is and what he will be going forward.”)

Our wide-ranging Q&A below.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

You know Malik Willis better than anyone. When did you first start working with Malik? How did you develop that relationship?

McEvoy: Yeah, so it was going into his senior year of high school. His head coach at Roswell High School. So he was at Westlake in Georgia where Cam Newton went to school, AJ Terrell, a bunch of those guys. So AJ and Malik were teammates at Westlake, but then he transferred to Roswell for his senior year. And this was where he was fully going to make the transition to quarterback. Because at Westlake, he was playing some wide receiver, playing some QB as well, kind of wherever they needed him. Just being an athlete. He was going to make the transition over to Roswell for his senior year and play quarterback. And the head coach, John Ford, was the head coach at Roswell. He knew me really well. I had trained some of his other quarterbacks and he made the connection.

What did you see in Malik way back then?

McEvoy: It was the talent, the flashes. You very rarely get these guys that can run 4.3 and just have a whippiness to their arm talent. But very raw. Very inconsistent.

Never really had been a full-time quarterback and never really had done much training at that position. At the time he already had a Georgia Tech and a Virginia Tech offer as an “athlete.” They’re like, “Let’s just bring him in. We don’t know if he’s going to play DB or wide receiver or whatever.” But just from a skillset and an athleticism, you knew he was a Division I player. So obviously right out of the game, it was “Alright, how can we start to be more consistent as a passer? Can we just have better footwork, have better base and balance, start to find some consistency in our mechanics? Can we just be repeatable? Can we just throw the same way every time to simplify it?” So that was the beginning of a journey that really never stopped.

For the last 11 years, we’ve just been continuing to get even more consistent and repeatable and efficient with our mechanics. And could we even be better with our base and balance and stability and footwork? And then when it came to the footwork he was going to be asked to do in college vs. what he needed to do to be successful in the NFL, it was being better with all the different problems that were going to be created at that next level. So it’s so funny as we talk about the beginning and then like, “Hey, what are we working on right now?” so much of it is just the same types of things.

At Auburn, in 2017 and ‘18, he was backing up Jarrett Stidham.

McEvoy: Jarrett came in as a transfer as Malik came in there as a freshman. So they were more or less in the same recruiting class. But obviously Jarrett was a couple years older after coming from Baylor and then having that year off in-between.

Then, Gus Malzahn gets Bo Nix in there and Malik enters the portal.

McEvoy: 100 percent. So the first two years of Jarrett, Malik was the backup. He was QB2 behind Jarrett just trying to learn the system a little bit. He got a chance to get some garbage time. And it was kind of funny because even then, he ripped off a couple 70-yard zone read runs and had a couple flash highlights as a freshman. But yeah, it was just part of trying to learn, trying to put himself in position. And obviously the hope was that once Jarrett left — going into what would be Malik’s junior year — because this was back before the four-game redshirt rule. So if you played one play, that was your year. So he hadn’t redshirted yet for those first two.

Going into what was going to be Malik’s junior year, that was Bo’s freshman year in that recruiting class.

And so obviously Malik thought he was positioned well and they made a different decision. To Coach Malzahn’s credit, he was very open and honest with Malik and told Malik what his thought process was at the end of that spring season, which allowed Malik to get into the portal and find a home. Early. And then obviously the Malzahn-Hugh Freeze relationship came into play quite a bit. And I think Freeze was very confident in taking a chance on a guy who didn’t have much film, but was at least able to get enough information from Auburn that he felt like it was a guy who could potentially fit what they wanted to do there.

The theme of Malik Willis’ football life is believing in yourself when there’s another quarterback brought in, a coach who believes in somebody else. So right then — early on — how did he handle all of that on a personal level?

McEvoy: Obviously, it’s frustrating. There’s times where it’s unfortunate. Things didn’t work out the way that you thought you had positioned yourself. You felt like you were taking the necessary steps and preparing and getting better to be able to earn that next opportunity. And then it didn’t happen. What Malik’s always done well, he’s really good at taking accountability. He never fell into the trap of, “I got screwed here! This isn’t fair!” All those things that sometimes it’s easy to fall into. Even the people around him — myself included — wanted to have my mind go there. But it was always, “What could I have done better? How could I have put myself in a position where it didn’t go this way? What do I need to focus on and work on so, that the next time, I am the guy who wins the job? Or when I get the opportunity, I’m more successful than I was last time.” That was always his mindset.

At that point — when he’s leaving Auburn — what did Malik identify as, “This is what I have to work on right now to improve.”

McEvoy: Consistency. Day-in and day-out, how he carried himself as a leader, as a QB1. Being the same person every day. From a mechanic standpoint, being a consistent passer. Being able to execute the offense on time and in the way that the coach wanted to see it run. Those were all things that were still new to him even going into his third year of college. He was still learning a college offense, learning a new system, and being able to play with — not just on time — but with anticipation in the pass game was really the main focus for him.

At Liberty, he had to sit out a whole year. That feels like ages ago.

McEvoy: Exactly right. Doesn’t it feel like we’re going into the history books 20 years ago — remember back when you couldn’t just play right away? Remember the good ‘ol days? It was funny because this was the time where Justin Fields got the waiver and Tate Martell got the waiver. All these other high-profile quarterbacks were able to find a way to get the waiver to play right away. And I laugh because I literally think Malik was the last guy who ever had to sit out. Everybody else got a waiver and his didn’t come through or he didn’t have enough of a reason to ... yeah. So, he went Liberty. The good news was that he hadn’t used his redshirt yet. Because he was the primary backup the first two years of Auburn. And so that third year, he was able to use his redshirt and still preserve, at the time, two years of eligibility. Because of COVID, it actually ended up being three. So talk about another crazy time there. So yeah, he sat down a year. Which was good, I think. A tough year for him personally where it’s like now you don’t even get to try to contribute. You don’t even get to try to get on the field. But he could reset, spend the year really just focused on his development, focused on learning a new offense, focused on getting to be the quarterback that Hugh Freeze was looking for. Reset is the right word. Reset and refocus on “How can I get myself prepared for what’s next?”

It couldn’t have been easy to sit out and wait… and wait… and wait that long.

McEvoy: He’ll tell you that was probably the toughest year of the last 11. That was the year where if self-doubt was ever going to creep in — “Can I do this? What’s next for me?” — that’s where it would have caught him. And once again, to his credit, he’s very good at staying centered. Very good at being self-aware of, “This is what I can do, this is what I am, this is what I haven’t done well enough yet. This is where I need to focus more time and preparation into.” And then he’s always been able to rely on his faith. Anybody who’s been around Malik or just has heard Malik speak knows he’s so faith centered. In these moments, that’s where it became so vital to him. He had that to fall on when times got tough.

I’m going to sound like a middle-aged curmudgeony, bald man here, but that’s a lost art: a 19-, 20-year-old being who’s willing to look in the mirror, especially as a quarterback and say, “OK, this is what I still have to work on.” So many of these guys are surrounded by yes-men, yes-women and NIL money. Enablers. There probably aren’t many Malik Willises who are staring into the mirror like he is at that point.

McEvoy: 100 percent. I think the situations he went through would’ve completely ruined guys. And that’s not just hypothetical. I can think of eight guys who went through similar things and never made it. They quit altogether or stopped working hard or fell into all the different traps along this journey that are easy to fall into.

Not that you’re going to drop names, but you’re seeing that up close with quarterbacks?

McEvoy: 100 percent. He’d tell you that his faith and his family is what pulled him through. They’ve always been very tight-knit. Not just his parents and his brother and sister, but his grandparents and his aunts and uncles. They’re very, very as close-knit of a family as I’ve ever been around. And that support system, I’m a small part of that as well. From continuing to help instill confidence in him when things didn’t feel like they were going to go the way we thought they were supposed to. But that’s what pulled him through for sure.

And then how did things really take off? How did he put himself on the NFL map at Liberty?

McEvoy: The simple explanation is he got on the field. He got to go play. The opportunity that he felt he was ready for, and prepared for, couldn’t happen until a coach decided to let him be QB. He fit what Hugh wanted to do. He fit a lot what Hugh needed him to do. Because of the situation they were in at Liberty — they had just transitioned from an FCS school up to FBS and that first year him starting, they got Virginia Tech on the schedule in Blacksburg. They got Syracuse on the schedule at the Carrier Dome. They play NC State. They’ve got all these ACC schools on the schedule and they’re a second-year FBS program. That means that three-quarters of your team went there as an FCS recruit. Now, they’re juniors. But they weren’t big-time FBS recruits coming out of high school.

So having a guy that was able to make some plays off-schedule, out of structure when you had to be the best player on the field allowed him some freedom and some creativity within that offense. For a play-caller — when you don’t have to always have the right answer or the right play call and it’s third and 6 and my QB just makes a play and we get the first down — I think that was a really good mesh of what Hugh was willing to let the quarterback do and what Malik was able to do. Malik will also tell you Hugh Freeze had total confidence in Malik Willis and that piece was what he hadn’t had to that point. If you’re talking about Liberty, Kent Austin is another name that’s very crucial here, too. Because Kent was the quarterback coach and the OC. He was there at Auburn with Hugh the last couple years as well. Kent Austin was another one who had played quarterback, played the position, saw the field through the eyes of a QB, which has always been something that Malik has enjoyed.

They were behind him. And because of what Liberty needed him to be, he was able to show quite a bit. It wasn’t always on time. It wasn’t always like, “How does this translate to the next level?” But it was certainly wow stuff all over the field. Every week. And then he obviously was able to go beat Virginia Tech in overtime and go beat Syracuse and put up really good numbers and statistics. Especially that first year in 2020 for a team that had no expectations and people that didn’t know who Malik Willis was, he was able to jump on the map pretty quick there as they ended up beating Coastal Carolina. They’re in the bowl game and finished 11-1 and finished as a top 15 team in the country that year.

Malik tore Syracuse up twice.

McEvoy: The team success wasn’t as good as senior year but I think he actually made some personal growth from his game play. You saw him play more on time and a little bit more efficient that second year, continuing to showcase all of his abilities. He’s super proud of that two-year run and what he was able to accomplish there at Liberty.

He did it differently than everybody else. You’re talking about a guy who was obviously the leading passer, but he was also every bit the leading rusher every single week. He was the one-man offensive show. He obviously he had a young DeMario Douglas, and then he had a young CJ Daniels as a freshman. So there were some guys that we later on found out were NFL players, too. But it didn’t seem like there was much around him and he was able to play a high level.

The entire NFL couldn’t really figure out what they had in Malik Willis. By then, there were quarterbacks with his 0-to-60 rushing ability, his acceleration and the strong arm. Lamar Jackson was winning MVPs. But his unique rise to Liberty might’ve confused NFL people. From what you could tell, how were scouts and coaches in the NFL world deciphering everything that Malik was doing at Liberty?

McEvoy: The things that really worked for him were the traits. Anybody who was around him, watched his film, obviously saw him at the Senior Bowl or the Combine were like, “OK, super strong arm. Super quick, fast, athletic.” The high-end traits, those boxes were able to be checked. There was nobody discounting those pieces. Which you could start comparing. OK, there were other guys that had that kind of athleticism like a Lamar. This kind of a strong arm like a Josh Allen, or whatever. You can try to make those comparisons. The hard part was always going to be: How do we compare what he did at Liberty, a non-Power 4 school against some of the competition they played with the exception of those five or six ACC or the Ole Miss game? How does it translate? Plus, how does Hugh Freeze’s offense — very college-level, very RPO-based — translate? It was very, “Hey, Malik, go make play.”

That’s where a lot of NFL teams struggled the most to wrap their head around it. How does this translate to the next level?

Now that being said, we had just done Trey Lance’s draft prep the year before. So they figured out how Trey Lance — as an FCS QB — was supposed to translate to the NFL. Zach Wilson, in 2020, I would argue, didn’t play as well as Malik had against a lot of those same teams. That Coastal Carolina team beat BYU that year, that was the team Liberty and Malik beat in their bowl game. And that was a year because of COVID where BYU did not play a single Power 4 team. They played a group of five and an FCS schedule. Liberty was one of the few because they were independent, who did find those.

So I was like, “OK, they were able to figure it out for Zach Wilson. He went No. 2. FCS Trey Lance, they were able to figure it out. He went No. 3.” We had Jalen Hurts a couple years before. I’ve seen Jalen Hurts throw. I’ve seen Malik throw. Similar skillset. But Malik, from an arm talent standpoint — obviously Jalen Hurts is 1 of 1 in a lot of places — but from an athleticism and arm strength standpoint, very similar players. Built. Everything else. Justin Fields is a guy we’ve trained for years. In our minds, you could make the comparisons to similar traits or similar styles of play or say this guy also played at a smaller school. When you’re trying to make the comparisons — at least in our world — Malik stacked up really well with some of those other guys who the NFL had no problem figuring out.

When you really think about it, Zach Wilson goes two. Trey Lance goes three. I remember Coastal beat Wilson up that game. They had that player jamming his head into the turf.

McEvoy: That’s exactly right. After the play. And to be fair, what Trey Lance had going for him was a very pro-style offense at NDSU. So the common thing was the smaller school and the not-great competition. But they had the pro-style offense you could wrap your head around. But I wouldn’t make that case for Zach. I didn’t think BYU was much more NFL-style. Maybe 2021 was the year they took the chances on those guys. And then by 2022, they’re like, “Never again.” Obviously, he didn’t show up to the draft on Night One thinking he wasn’t going to get picked in the first round. The information we were getting from the people who normally know this the best seemed like there was enough interest there where he was going to have a chance to go possibly really high, and at the very least at the end of the first round.

Where did you guys think he was going?

McEvoy: Pittsburgh was that one spot where it was like, “OK, Pittsburgh at 20. They’re going to take a quarterback. It’s either going to be Malik or Kenny Pickett.” And a lot of the belief at that point was that they liked Malik more than Kenny. Or at least some people in the organization liked Malik more than Kenny.

Obviously that was wrong. It’s easy to look back in hindsight. And then there was Carolina was at six and Detroit was at two. But if Aidan Hutchinson goes one and they don’t like Travon Walker, do they go QB way too early? There were all these potential things out there. We didn’t know what Atlanta was going to do. They were going to be a team that we knew needed quarterback at some point. And then obviously if, somehow, he slips past Pittsburgh, does a team trade into the end of the first and get the fifth-year option? By then, pretty much everyone had Malik mocked in the top 20. So if he somehow was still there at 28 — if I’m Indy at the top of the second round — do I come in at the end and try to get Malik? We thought all those things were on the table.

What is going through Malik Willis’ mind? Because it’s not just mock drafts. He’s hearing from these coaches. He’s hearing from these teams.

McEvoy: That’s exactly right. It felt like he made good connections and made good impressions. It’s a learning experience for everybody who goes through that process, but these teams are trying to keep their options open as well. And it might get to a point where teams tell three different guys, “Hey, if you’re there when we pick, you’re our guy.” Because if they only said that to one guy and that guy was gone, then what happened? So they’re trying to keep their options open, too. The way it’s communicated leaves a little bit of a blind spot.

Pittsburgh’s the team that — even to this offseason — sort of blows my mind. I don’t understand why they wouldn’t be doing everything in their power back in ‘22, obviously, but also this offseason to blow Malik away with an offer. That seemed like a perfect situation. On draft night, he waits and waits and is finally drafted. Were you with him on draft day? How did he react?

McEvoy: Yeah, we were there in the building in Vegas, in the draft room. And you obviously go home a little disappointed on Night One. But once again, Malik was the one picking up the room in the moment of what should have been frustration. Or “what the heck’s going on” or even embarrassment in a weird way. He was the one with the biggest smile on his face. He was the one who was like, “My dream’s going to come true tomorrow now instead of today.” That will always stand out. He was literally the one raising morale that night.

Now, we roll to Day Two. Which we thought we were going to be lone gone. Quincy (Avery) and I had both been there the year before with Trey. He got picked three. We were out of there in 20 minutes. Now, you’re into Day Two and they did a thing at Brooklyn Bowl in Vegas. Everybody, all the family and friends that had come to Vegas to celebrate from the night before just rolled into Day Two. And even that, we’re thinking, “OK, he didn’t go Round 1. This is going to be what, the first pick of Round 2?” Maybe Indy who didn’t have a first-round pick is going to figure out their successor (for Matt Ryan).

That was a team looking for their next quarterback to take over. This was the year before they ended up taking Anthony Richardson. So you knew that quarterback was on their mind. And then everybody came back around, “Hey, Detroit’s back around! Remember?” Pittsburgh already took their QB, but Atlanta’s still around. Tennessee’s still around. And then Round 2 came and went. Once again, it’s another moment where things didn’t work out the way everyone thought they were going to. But Malik had become resolved to that. He’d been through that. It was no different than when he thought he was going to be the starter at Auburn and it didn’t work out that way. And then he thought he was going to get to go play right away at Liberty and he had to sit a year.

It’s staying tempered and relying on his support system and his faith. Round 3 comes along and Tennessee made the call. He was ecstatic, happy, thrilled, elated. His dream came true. He didn’t care if it was the No. 1 pick overall on the first night or Round 3 at that point. He was just happy to get the opportunity to go play in the NFL.

You’re not kidding. As you’re talking here, I pulled it up on YouTube. You’re talking to him at a bowling alley. He’s all smiles. He gets picked and there’s legit tears of joy. He’s not in the fetal position in the corner, pissed off at the world. It’s the exact opposite.

McEvoy: Not just faking it or putting on a show. He is super excited. For a kid who one day dreamt of getting to be a quarterback in the NFL, he got to realize that dream and that was all that mattered. All he wanted was the opportunity.

Guilty as charged, like the rest of the world. After it didn’t work out with the Titans, I forgot about him. Wrote him off. He seemed good as gone. We caught up briefly at those joint practices with the Vikings and Titans his second year. There was a confidence to his demeanor. He said: “I know the plays, that’s the biggest difference, literally. They think he’s ‘trash.’ No, I just needed to learn the offense.” You could see he was still so centered right then.

McEvoy: A funny day that you picked out because he was the talk of that joint practice with the Vikings. Will Levis was in there. They were kind of competing for the backup job, which Malik ultimately won going into the year. But that Vikings joint practice was when I think he showed a lot of people. And we know Kevin O’Connell pretty well through the years. He made a mark. He opened some eyes there that shared that same belief as you: “We don’t know what this guy is.” That was between the first and second year of Tennessee. People think he got to Green Bay and suddenly became good. There’s a lot of people around Tennessee — especially that last offseason before he got traded — that were like, “Hey, you could clearly see it coming together for him.” And it was just a matter of when was he going to get on the field again? Because no one had seen him since those three games when he very clearly wasn’t ready to play. And this is back to him always taking accountability. It wasn’t like, “Oh, I got thrown in there. I didn’t get reps at practice. I didn’t get any first-team reps.” No, it was just, “Ah, man, I’ve got to see that faster. In my footwork, I have to be set to my first progression on the last step of the drop so I’m able to get that ball out on time.” Unfortunately, it took a little while until he got that next opportunity.

And it’s not just the media. NFL teams themselves are operating on this 100 MPH quarterback timeline like, “Oh, alright, we saw a little bit. We’ve got to get another guy.” They draft Will Levis. They’re moving fast. Malik is kind of like an old soul operating on his own clock. He knows what he has to get better at each year.

McEvoy: Listen, I think there’s another universe where Ryan Tannerhill doesn’t get hurt that first year. And Malik sticks to the development plan that Jon Robinson and Vrabel and the Titans had for him: “Hey, we drafted you in the third round. We look at you as a developmental prospect with huge talents. Can we develop you and get you ready to take that role?” If Tannehill plays 17 weeks (in 2022) and he’s the backup and he goes in and hands off a couple times in mop-up duty and he develops throughout the year behind the scenes? Then, when Tannehill’s ready to move on or if he’s needed in Year 2 after a full offseason — and that’s your first exposure to Malik Willis? — I think obviously they wouldn’t have drafted a quarterback the next year.

It’s another little piece of Malik’s story. He did have to play (in October) of his rookie year when he wasn’t as comfortable as he needed to be in the offense. That’s not because of anything Titans-related. That’s where he was in his own development at that point. And it’s the way it played out. I think anybody will tell you, there was no plan when the Titans drafted Malik in the third round like, “Alright, when we go on the road to play the Chiefs, we want Malik to start that game.”

Even Aaron Rodgers, his rookie year, I think it was a Monday night against Baltimore, they lost 48-3. It was an absolute shit show. Nobody remembers.

McEvoy: And not for nothing, in three years, I’ll bet no one remembers that game Malik played either. But you have to do more to make people forget about the old stuff, right?

He’s dealt to Green Bay. Ten days later, he’s thrown into action and wins a game. How did he pull that off?

McEvoy: Truthfully, that offseason going into Year 3 (with the Titans) — that whole preseason with Callahan coming in in Tennessee — he felt so comfortable. He felt really prepared, ready, understood. He felt like all through training camp, all through the preseason, everything was slowing down for him. He felt really in position. This is coupled with all the offseason training and all the mechanics overhauls. Efficiency. Cleaning all that stuff up. He worked so hard. He finally got to that Year 3, and obviously he was hoping it was going to be with the Titans, whether it was the backup to Will or whatever they need him to do, he felt like if “I get the opportunity, I’m taking advantage of it.” And they traded him. They traded him to Green Bay and it couldn’t have been a better opportunity. You go back to really smart offensive coaches that know how to work with a quarterback and develop a quarterback. They got him up to speed very quickly within their offense and there were enough similarities between things he had done in Tennessee. He felt comfortable. He felt like he had a ton of support in that building from Coach LaFleur, from Adam Stenavich.

A lot of credit to Jordan Love and to Sean Clifford that QB room that was super welcoming to him and helped get him up to speed. He talked so fondly about that QB room. Jordan, especially. The opportunity to see how Jordan prepared and see how they did it at that level. And when it came time — obviously earlier than anyone expected going into Week 2, the home opener for the Packers — he felt comfortable in what he was going to be asked to do.

And by Year 2 with the Packers, Year 5 in the NFL, he’s a legit playmaker.

McEvoy: Even just from the Colts game to the Titans game that first year — Week 2 to Week 3 — it was almost like, “Oh wait, OK, he’s got this. Let’s give him more.” And they opened it up into Week 3. And then he got the opportunity at the end of the Bears game where they were down 10 and they came back and took the lead where they had to play a little bit more wide open.

Then, he finally gets whole offseason. So it’s the first time — in literally his entire NFL career now of four years — that he’s going to go back into a second year with the same offense. He had never had that before. So you get to really master the footwork in the offseason and really make sure that you understand all the concepts and how Coach LaFleur wants you to read them out. When you saw him on the field this year, everything that LaFleur wants a quarterback to do was available to them because he knew Malik could run the offense the same way. And then he also gave you something in the run game that other quarterbacks can’t give you. What he did this year in that game and a half — Baltimore and that second half of Chicago — the numbers tell you literally nobody played more efficient football than what he did in that small sample.

What makes you think that small sample can lead to a 17-game sample where we’re seeing the same thing over a long period of time?

McEvoy: That’s obviously the No. 1 question. The reality is, the things that allowed him to show that in the small sample are part of his DNA now. The comfort and the timing. Understanding how to see what defenses are doing. Make decisions quicker. Being able to throw with anticipation, throw on time, make good decisions in the pass game. That comfort with the speed of the game and NFL offenses. And obviously, the traits that he possesses, those are his DNA. So to me, whether he gets to showcase that in one game or he gets to showcase it over 17, those things remain constant.

It’s easy to say, well, in two years he had three starts and played five games total. OK. But he hasn’t played anything but exceptional since three years ago.

How were those three games literally four years ago, his rookie year, how is that who he is? And not what you’ve seen literally every single time in seven different appearances off the bench, no practice, whatever. That’s what you’ve seen for the last three years. To me, that’s who he is. It’s not like I’m saying, “Hey, if he plays 17 games next year, he will throw one interception all year because he hasn’t thrown one in the last two.” We’re not counting stats here. But things like completion percentage, and if you want to get into the analytical stuff of on-target throws and efficiency, EPA metrics, they’re averages for a reason. The average, with more games, doesn’t drastically change. That’s who he is. You’re just going to see that multiply out.

But it’s really because of how consistent he is as a passer now, which is really the biggest difference you’re seeing just physically from the quarterback you saw play when he was a rookie to the quarterback you see play now. An efficiency in his mechanics. A consistent accuracy because of the repeatable mechanics that he has now. And you couple that with what he can add to the run game and his ability to make plays off-schedule and out of structure — and then his ability and comfort to play on time with anticipation — that’s why I see him being very successful because that’s who he is as a quarterback.

Jon-Eric Sullivan and Jeff Hafley, they’re around him every day. They’re not placing this bet on 1 1/2 games, rather on two seasons of seeing how Malik Willis works every day.

McEvoy: There’s something really cool for the lack of having a thesaurus in front of me, something really gratifying about the people who know you the best knowing something maybe nobody else does. Which makes sense to a guy like me. I never have an issue with people who want to doubt the small sample size or “I don’t know what he is,” because they just don’t have the information that I have. So anybody who wants to say, “Oh, I don’t really think he can throw. All he can do is run.” OK, they don’t know. They don’t see him, and there’s very little exposure for them to be more educated in their opinion. It’s fine.

The people that have been around him have no doubt of what he is and what he will be going forward. And that’s where Jon-Eric Sullivan and Jeff Hafley are as well. They’ve seen him every single day. To me, it feels like those guys took a job where Malik was very much a part of what they were going to bring to Miami.

I don’t think Jon-Eric Sullivan took the job without knowing he was going to hire Jeff Hafley as his head coach. And I’m not sure that Jeff Hafley took the job without knowing he was going to bring Malik with him if he could to play quarterback. And so if those three guys want to sign up to do this together — because of their relationship, because of how much confidence and faith and trust they have in each other to build this and obviously there’s a lot on the line for all three of them — that’s the part that’s exciting.

You can look at the macro of those relationships, even the structure of the deal. If he’s everything that you hope he is, it sets up for an even bigger contract. And then there’s the micro. I’m picturing Malik Willis and De’Von Achane working RPOs.

McEvoy: 100 percent. Jaylen Waddle. I love that they re-signed Greg Dulcich. The way he came on at the end of last year. There’s some pieces on offense. Center Aaron Brewer was with Malik in Tennessee. They know each other very well. There’s a lot comfort there with those two. Thinking about guys who’ll be very key in protection calls and things like that. We spent two offseasons where Aaron would come out three days a week and just snap to Malik while he was throwing to receivers. That’s a testament to Aaron Brewer’s work ethic. I can count on literally one finger the number of centers I’ve had at the pro level who have come out to snap for QB throwing sessions.

There’s some people that Malik knows in the building who are super excited that he’s going to be coming in. There’s a lot of pieces that set up well and give him the help that any quarterback needs to find success early on.

Where do you see this going? In your dream scenario, knowing Malik better than anybody and how he’s wired? We didn’t even talk about Malik giving away that Combine clothing to a homeless woman in Indianapolis.

McEvoy: I could tell you got 20 stories where we were walking, I thought he was next to me, and then all of a sudden I looked back and he stopped 30 feet back because he’s trying to find money to go… or he’s talking, he’s having the conversation. Here’s a funny story for you. We would go eat in Nashville all the time because we’re training together. We’d go get lunch after a session. He likes to stay himself. He’ll DoorDash food to the apartment or whatever. That’s the way he works. But if we go out to lunch, we’ll eat. And then when we’re about ready to go, he’ll order something to take home. So he’s like, “Okay, I can just bring it home. I don’t have to worry about DoorDash.” Well, the number of times that he would walk out with his dinner for that night and we don’t get 12 steps out the door of the restaurant and there’s someone in need there on the sidewalk? Malik doesn’t have cash on him, so he just gives him the dinner. It became laughable to the fact like, “Hey, that big plan you have about having dinner later, I guess you’re back to DoorDash.”

How many times do you think he did that?

McEvoy: Oh my God. Maybe six, eight different times that I was with him. The day that we met with (agent) David Mulugheta to sign — he was coming out of college trying to figure out who his agent was going to be, taking agent meetings for the draft. I met him there. His Dad was there. Mulugheta. The marketing agent. There’s a group of people there. Malik called on the way and he’s like, “Is anyone eating? I’m going to get a pizza.” He comes in, brings in a couple large pizzas. Nobody else ate it. It was just him. He had come from a workout. So we’re leaving, he’s walking out with a pizza. Sure enough, I’m walking. Once again, look back, Malik’s back by the hotel lobby door still because he’s talking to a homeless person for five minutes. And then obviously, he gives him all the pizza he had left over. It’s happened so many times now. So when that thing comes out at the Combine, that’s no surprise to me.

He’s not doing it for the cameras. Somebody filmed it from afar.

McEvoy: I talked about the close-knit family. I talked about his grandparents. He’ll tell you, that’s his grandmother. That was going to church with his grandmother growing up. I think Liberty — and that world — played a big part, too. Because it was so front of mind there at that university. It’s who he is.

Dream scenario, where’s this going?

McEvoy: It’s these three guys that’ve built this relationship. He would tell you faith and God’s plan brought Jeff Hafley in to be the D-coordinator at the same time when Jon-Eric Sullivan was getting ready to take his own job. Even the GM that helped draft him, Jon Robinson, ended up back in the building in Miami. It’s like these people that have built this relationship over the last two years are now entering this thing together. The best-case scenario is these guys find that success together. And I think Malik is going into it where, “Finally, here’s the opportunity. I just wanted the opportunity to get a chance to be Quarterback One. It hadn’t happened to this point. I get a chance to be on the field, go earn that opportunity for this year, and then what can we do over the next decade in Miami with Coach Hafley and Jon-Eric Sullivan. Let’s go do something special here.”

That’s where his mindset is. For sure. This has a real shot at happening because of the belief I have in him and his ability and what he’s ready to do on the field. I’ve got to imagine that’s what Jon-Eric Sullivan and Jeff Hafley envisioned when they make the move to go get him and make sure he’s their guy.

Share Go Long

Give a gift subscription

Leave a comment

Here’s the written transcript of our conversation with 10-year NFL vet T.J. Lang.

We get into it all.

Video and audio are accessible here. Words are below. Be sure to click to expand in full if you’re reading in your email.

Subscribe now

Share Go Long

A pleasure to have you, man. It was 15 years ago we first met — I think both of our minds were a little blown bullshitting before dinging record that it’s been that long. Because you had your son that year and now you’re telling me he’s in high school. You’ve got three kids. I’ve got three kids. What in the hell happened to us, T.J.?

Lang: Time, brother. Time. If you had a full head of hair, I think you’d have more grays than me, but smart by you to try to cover those up by shaving. I’ve plucked out a couple myself. My claim to fame now is I’m not quite 40 yet. I’ve got about a year and a half left. But yeah, man. Time flies, dude. It’s crazy. I remember, shoot, all the years we spent in Green Bay together, my son being born in 2011. All of a sudden I’m sitting here going, “Yeah, he’s in high school now. He’s getting ready to drive.” And like, oh boy, his life does really go by fast, doesn’t it, man? And some of the memories fade obviously with that. But no, it’s awesome, dude. I’m in my football cave right now. I’ve got all my jerseys behind me and I love talking ball, dude. It’s great. I don’t need an introduction. Please don’t make me uncomfortable by doing some of the stuff that the radio guys like to do. But still working in the NFL, doing some radio stuff back here in my hometown in Detroit. It’s the perfect balance for me. I still get to be around the game a little bit without working 100 hours a week like some of these coaches are. So I’m enjoying myself, man. I’ve got a good balance going right now.

It does seem like you’ve mastered post-NFL life with doing the sideline stuff with the Detroit Lions. Which by the way, Bob McGinn has high, high praise for your work on those broadcasts. He was driving through the holidays and he made a point on our pod to say how TJ was bringing the heat. It was objective. It was sharp. It wasn’t just kissing ass. So, well done.

Lang: Coming from Bob, I’m sure he’s got high standards. And look, he’s been around for, shoot, what, seven decades now. So he’s heard a lot of football on the radio. And that means a lot to me. The reason why I love it so much and why I have a good relationship with the Lions is because they know exactly who I am. When there’s something bad that happens, my No. 1 goal is I’m never going to embarrass somebody on the radio. I’m never going to say, “Hey, this guy needs to get cut, get him out of here, he stinks.” But if there’s something bad that happens — no matter if it’s the first guy on the roster or the last guy on the roster — it’s always, “Hey, he’s going to watch that one tomorrow and not like the way that one looks.” But I appreciated that when I played, too. Guys have to be honest. These guys have a living to do. And now that I’m on the other side of the business, people are going to know if I’m BS’ing.

I’ve always been… just tell me straight up, right? Get to the point. Doing that on the other side, calling the games now, I’ve had a lot of fun doing that and made a lot of great relationships with those guys. So it’s been a lot of fun.

I’m thrilled that you’ve joined the dark side because even…

Lang: Don’t go that far.

You’re fully over.

Lang: No, don’t go that far. Don’t go that far. Because I hate when people look at me like a media member now and I’m like, “No, unfair. You cannot say that. I call the games on Sundays.” I do two hours of radio during the week and I just talk about the game — whatever happened after the game, what happens before the game. So don’t look at me like a media member. I do not write articles. I do not interview people. I do not do that. I just call it how I see it on Sundays. That’s my job.

One of the first times we talked in the Packers locker room that 2011 season was for a story on your transformation on how you went from this life of partying your ass off and drinking. You talked about surviving on two, three hours of sleep and drinking and eating like shit and just not taking your job seriously. And then they drafted Derek Sherrod. That camp, you got it together. Josh Sitton had a few words for you: You’ve got to win this job. We need you. And you turned it all around. Re-reading. I almost forgot I was calling bartenders in Green Bay asking for their best T.J. Lang stories.

Lang: Yeah, I remember that.

One of them had a crazy story. At the end of the bar close, they’d go around with a pitcher and just throw all the drinks in there. And I want to say you had it and you just downed it. They said you hit it really hard.

Lang: Yeah. That part of the story I remember I thought was exaggerated. Then I remember talking to you and you’re like, “No, that’s a legit quote.” I wouldn’t say that was every time I went out, but maybe once that probably happened. I can’t put that past myself. I was open and honest. I had a transformation there. Look, I grew up with separated parents. My Dad worked 80 hours a week. We lived in an 800 square foot house and I was young. I was 17 going into college. I was 21 going into the NFL. And all of a sudden, you’ve got a little bit of money now. I fell into the trap of thinking I was a big shot and going out and doing all the stuff that I didn’t do much in college because I didn’t have the money to do it, first of all. Then, I finally got that next step and it was like, “OK, I’m here now. We’re going to have a little bit of fun.” And certainly I pushed boundaries a little bit. I wasn’t shy about telling that kind of story. Thank God, I was in Green Bay, Wisconsin.

Especially now, I think about some of these rookies, and if I was in Vegas? I don’t think I would’ve lasted very long out there with my first two years in NFL. But that 2011 period was a perfect storm for me. We were coming off the Super Bowl win obviously in 2010. We went into that offseason and had the lockout. We had no football, no OTAs, no minicamp, nothing. And for me, it was the first time I realized I had a legit shot of earning a starting spot because we had our whole offensive line together for my first two years. Outside of Mark Tauscher getting hurt my second year and then Bryan Bulaga filling in as a rookie. But Daryn Colledge, the starting left guard, left that year in free agency. That was the first time I went in that offseason thinking, “OK, I think there might be an opening. I’ve got to lock down a little bit.” And a couple other different things happened. They drafted Derek Sherrod, an offensive lineman, and I’m like, “Ooh, is that the next left guard? I’ve got to reset my mind that this is my spot. That’s not his spot.” My girlfriend at the time, who’s now my wife, got pregnant with our first son who is going on 15 later this year. So for me, it wasn’t like a slow progression of a wake-up call. It was like a wake-up call like now. You have to make a change today. Are you going to dedicate yourself in the offseason working out, getting in shape, staying in shape and being reliable? And obviously I had a good support system.

But it was a perfect storm for me going into that 2011 year. The determination that I remember feeling that, “I don’t care if you bring in Steve Hutchinson to compete with me at that guard spot. I’m not losing that guard spot. I’m just not.” And that built the foundation for me for the next eight years of my career. Developing the good habits. And it took me a while. It took me a couple years to develop those. But that for me — that 2011 year — was the most important year of my career by far.

You easily could have put me in a headlock and been like, “What are you doing calling these bartenders in Green Bay? Get lost, man. That’s my personal life. If I want to drink til 3:00…”

Lang: You’ve got a way about your interview style that was very personable and then when you read it a couple days from now, it’s going to be like, “Oh shit, did I really say that to you?”

Conversations, not interviews, right?

Lang: As a player, you’re not going to admit to maybe some certain things if you don’t want your coaches or your teammates to know about. I lived in an apartment complex in Green Bay where I lived right next door to Tom Clements, our quarterbacks coach. I lived next door to Mark Lovat, who was our weight coach. I lived down the hall from Charles Woodson, who was at the far end. He was at the nice end of the hall. But I’d go in on Fridays and Saturdays sometimes, and I’d see Mark Lovat and Tom Clements, and they would have beet-red eyes because they were up all night because I’m blasting music next door. And I’m like, “Oh, shit.”

You can fool some coaches once in awhile. You can’t fool your teammates. Your teammates are going to know exactly who you are. So I remember at the time doing that interview. Dude, I’m an open book. I’m not going to hide stuff. I’m not going to pretend to be somebody I’m not. If I’ve got scars in my past that I’ve overcome, I’ve got no problem telling those stories. So I remember doing that interview with you and it was like, “Yeah, dude, I guess I’ll just lay it out on the table. And I know I still got a lot of work to do.” Especially at that point. That was my first year as a full-time starter back in 2011, but that was a challenge now.

Everything’s out on the table. Now, I’ve got to prove to these guys that I can continue this. Keeping up with the demands that it takes to be a successful player in this league. So I never once shied away from any question that you asked me. It was just, “Yeah, I’m an open book. What do you want to know?” And I put it all out there. And I think that more than anything, I knew that other people finally knew. So now I really have the freedom to build the image that I want to build. I think that was very, very important for that transition time in my career.

This is what you told me way back then: “I’d be out until 4 in the morning and we’d practice at 7. Looking back at it, ‘What in the hell was I doing?’ I was always tired. I was almost living a secret lifestyle. I would come in here and tell everybody I went to bed at 10 just because I didn’t want to set up a bad reputation for myself.” James Campen knew, your O-Line coach. But I asked Joe Philbin about it and he just goes, “Nope, didn’t know about that.”

Lang: Well, thank God Joe didn’t know because he was probably one of the harder coaches I played for. Loved Joe.

If you’re going to change, if you’re going to evolve and win that job and kick ass and have the decade in the NFL that you had, that was your moment of truth. Think about how many players are having their moment of truth right now and they’re not facing reality. They’re not looking in the mirror. They’re not changing because they don’t think anything’s wrong. You were honest with yourself and changed your life.

Lang: It wasn’t every single night. But you have certain nights in the NFL where it’s, hey, Sunday night after a game or you have some with the boys Monday night because Tuesday’s our off day. Hey, Friday’s a light day, let’s do something Thursday night. Friday night. It was probably still three or four nights a week. It wasn’t every night. I wasn’t drinking night before games or anything like that.

And you said that then — it was never before a game. You were maybe a little groggy for practice.

Lang: And maybe a preseason game if I was playing a series or two. Yeah, that’s the one thing. You can maybe fool your coaches — like when Joe Philbin said he had no idea. I didn’t spend that much time face-to-face with Joe Philbin. But James Campen, in these meeting rooms, you’re together four hours together. You’re on the practice field. When you’re drinking, obviously you can smell it off somebody next to you. But I think the luckiest part for me was that — especially James Campen — he had my back. Going into my third year, he was very blatant honest with me. It’s basically, “You earn a starting spot or I don’t know if you’re going to be on this team much longer.” They can’t wait forever for some of you young guys, especially if you’re a fourth-round pick. You don’t have the guaranteed money. You’re not a first-rounder that they’re going to give more leeway to. But he had my back and that was really the start of a phenomenal relationship that I’ve had with James Campen. It was a lot of tough love growing up in that time period with him. But he stood by me. And I love James.

I talk to him all the time now. I’m happy he’s back in the NFL out there in Pittsburgh and back with Mike McCarthy. Like I said, mostly my teammates ... and here was a funny thing, too. I was with Josh (Sitton) on a lot of those nights. But when he’s the one telling you, “Hey, maybe you’re going a little too far.” It’s like, “Oh shit, I thought we were doing the same thing.” Then you look in the mirror and you’re like, “Well, I guess he wasn’t with me Monday or Friday.” So yeah, that kind of hit me a little bit harder. It always means more coming from your peers.

I don’t look at it as a black eye or anything. I look at it as more as that was kind of my reality check moment: “You’re not doing this for yourself anymore. You’re not doing this just for fun. Your girlfriend who’s going to do turn in my wife is pregnant. I’ve got a boy on the way and I’ve got to start doing this for more people than just myself.” And with all those things combined, like I mentioned earlier, the perfect storm, man.

Meanwhile, you guys are going 15-1.

Lang: Coming off the Super Bowl. I think we had won 19 straight games between the regular season, playoffs, into the next year. We started 13-0. So it was like, “This shit’s easy, man. We’re never going to lose again.”

What’s it like then when your play style is then able to flourish? I remember talking to your old college coach: Chris Symington. The way he detailed your game back then — old school, throwback, I will shove your face into the dirt. You can drop T.J. Lang into any era and you would excel because you’re a brawler. When you’re out there and now you’re not hungover, you’re not hurting, you’re able to just be you, what’s that feeling like?

Lang: Yeah, it was an eye-opener for me because it was like, “Wow, if I actually put in the work in the offseason, if I actually focus on a good regimen, if I actually focus on keeping my weight steady for nine months during the season and offseason, if I get on a strict strength program, whether I’m in Green Bay, whether I’m back home in Michigan, whoa, this is getting easier.” Wow, I was having a hard time. I was scrapping with BJ Raji and Ryan Pickett and Johnny Jolly and all these guys. I couldn’t hold up with those guys. And then all of a sudden, hey, you get a little bit better, you get a little bit older, you get a little bit wiser. And it was like, “OK, maybe I can do this.”

I wouldn’t call myself a road-grader. I was never going to be a guy that’s going to just pick up a nose tackle, drive you 10 yards off the scrimmage, bury you. I wasn’t that type of dude. But I knew I had to scratch and claw for every win I was going to get. That was in the run, that was in the pass.

Both of my sons play hockey now. Especially my older son — just watching him through baseball and through hockey — I got an opportunity to coach him in baseball for the last couple years. And his teammates and/or parents are always asking me, “What does it take? What does it take to get to that next level? What was your strongest attribute?” And I always told people it was this. (Points to head) It was my mindset. It was my study. It was my knowledge of the game. It was my knowledge of what we were trying to do and it was my knowledge of what the other guys were trying to do against me. That was my biggest strength.

That “enforcer”-type role slowly developed. Chris Symington, my old college coach, he molded me into that type of player because I was at Eastern Michigan. I think we won 11 games in my four years combined. And it was never anything dirty. The only personal fouls I ever got were from mostly off-setting from chirping with a guy after the play or a couple shoves here or there. But I’m never going to hit you in the back. I’m never going to try to take your knees out when you’re not looking. I’m never going to throw a punch.

But “Symo” engraved that in me: You always protect your teammates. If you’re going to be the first one down there to pick your running back up after a 20-yard gain, that’s going to demoralize the defense. And I would notice that throughout practice. Because the defense’s big thing is pursue to the football: ‘get to the football, get to the football, get to the football.’ Well, if I’m beating five or six guys on the defense to get to my running back to help him up? That looks really bad on the other guys. And I wasn’t trying to embarrass them, but I was trying to show them how committed I was to finishing the play.

And then that slowly evolved. My upbringing, I grew up in a lucky time. I got to watch 90s hockey. I was a huge hockey fan. And especially in Detroit where you’ve got Bob Probert and Darren McCarty and Joe Kocur and some of the toughest dudes to ever play the game. I remember watching the ‘97, ‘98 Wings. I wasn’t even in high school yet, but the ‘02 Wings where they had 15 of the Top 100 players of all time on their tea, I always gravitated toward the tough guys. I always gravitated toward the dudes that stood up for the teammates. Those are the dudes that you want with you, man. Those are the guys. Those are the teammates you’re going to remember. Everybody wants to be a Steve Yzerman or a Sergei Fedorov or Brendan Shanahan or a Brett Hull or Chris Chelios. But the tough guys? That’s the dirty work, man. You don’t get a lot of recognition for doing that, but that was kind of ingrained in my mind, too.

And I think what that naturally became — as you get into these football games, they’re emotional, they’re physical, they’re fast, they’re intense, there’s so much on the line. And it also comes naturally being a big guy, whether you’re playing football or whether you’re around a pack of friends, something goes wrong, you look at the big guy: “You got our back dude?” And if you don’t got their back — the first time — that’s all they’re going to remember. So the first time you get a chance to get somebody’s back and go stick up for somebody, I don’t care who it is, that’s going to make a lasting impression. And then I think that kind of just stood with me throughout my career. We’re not going to be a soft football team. Somebody takes a cheap shot, somebody wants to run their mouth, somebody wants to get up in my quarterback’s face, I got to be the guy to do it because I did it the first time? Second time, I can’t back away. Third time, I can’t back away. 50th time, I can’t back away. I’ve got to be that guy to do that. And I felt like I just had to add a little bit of extra because, in my mind, I wasn’t ever an All Pro, clear No. 1 right guard in the league.

What other value can I add to this team? What other value can I add to my name outside of just winning a run block or being a good pass blocker? What other value can you bring to this team? For me, that was the toughness factor of just, “You’re not going to back down from anybody. I don’t give a shit who it is. You’re not going to push my guys around. You’re not going to talk shit in my quarterback’s face. You’re not going to do that.” Of course, it’s not like hockey where you can take the helmets off and throw haymakers. And I knew that. Because there were some guys that, trust me, if they dropped the gloves and took the helmet off, I probably would’ve been like, “OK, you need to chill.” I think that was just ingrained with me just from my background growing up here in Metro Detroit, going through college and then obviously trying to just add that little bit of spunk to my character. Not only to show the team what I’m about, but I’ll tell you the biggest thing is showing your teammates what you’re about. Because I always felt like when I was on the field, my teammates knew nobody was going to fuck with us. If you take a bad hit, you take a late hit, the first thing I’m going to try to do is fucking get your back or go try to get some payback. And I obviously can’t speak for my teammates on that, but that’s how I kind of compartmentalized everything. My teammates appreciate that.

Perfectly said. The hockey analogy is dead-on. There’s so many plays that pop to mind. I grew up on the Buffalo Sabers, so you took Hasek. He was on that team that won the Cup. Everything you just said — I know we’ve got a lot of Packer fans watching and listening and they’re saying, “I know TJ Lang works for the Lions, but can he talk to the Packers? Can he say everything he just said to the current Packers team?” Because you came to mind and the Buffalo Sabres came to mind when I’m watching Green Bay at Denver and Jordan Love gets whacked in the head on the sideline. Nobody came to his defense. Nobody is getting into anybody’s face. Maybe they’re coached, “Don’t retaliate, don’t take the 15 yards.” I’m thinking, you know what? Take your 15 yards. Fifteen yards are worth it in that situation because you’re chipping away at the soul of your team if you get punked and don’t stand up for your quarterback in that moment.

My mind went back to Ryan Miller 15 years ago. I think it was Milan Lucic for the Bruins. He wiped him out, took him out, and nobody really came to Miller’s defense in this 2011 game. It was a very tepid, two boxers in the ring hugging, waiting for a whistle sort of thing. What happened? The Sabres haven’t made the playoffs since.

Lang: You proved my point. You remember that play. And there might be two guys involved in that — why didn’t one of them do something? Well, five games later, maybe they could have done that. But you don’t really care at that point because you only get one impression to show your teammates, “We’re not sticking up for that.” Look, I can’t speak on behalf and I see it all the time on social media from Green Bay fans on the cheap shots on Jordan Love. I will just tell you from my experience, it wasn’t coached that we go dive into piles and protect guys. But it was encouraged.

Whether it be the Seattle game in 2015 where Richard Rodgers was getting pummeled into the ground by KJ Wright. I came in there, dove in. I got a personal foul in the playoff game in 2014 against Dallas, the divisional round. I threw a block, questionable still to this day. I would tell you still to this day, I didn’t hear a whistle. Started a whole skirmish on the sideline. I ended up getting a 15-yard dead ball foul. Which hurt. Because now you’re losing a down. Got into it with Suh a couple times. But you can’t name any personal foul penalty that I’ve ever gotten where my coach yelled at me. Every single time I got a penalty, the next day I would come in and Mike McCarthy would say, “T.J. Lang, you get a chance to do that again, do the same frickin’ thing again. You stick up for your frickin’ teammates. This is what we’re about. We’re a family.” So I’m not going to say it was coached to do, but it wasn’t looked down upon.

And I’m not saying that’s the case in Green Bay right now under Matt LaFleur. But you have to question sometimes when you’re looking at — especially when it’s your quarterback. Especially when it’s your quarterback. I don’t care if what I thought I saw was totally inaccurate. If I thought I saw something, I’m getting into it. And there’s ways that you can get around it without getting a penalty. You don’t have to tackle a guy to the ground or throw a punch or grab a facemask or anything. But there’s a way that you can show your guys you got their back.

Green Bay, that’s been a missing part for them. I don’t think that’s unfair to say. I’m not trying to pick on them. I see it all the time. Like I said, on social media, a lot of fans reminisce about the old days — where not only me — but Dave and Josh and Corey and Bryan, there was no shit taken. I do question a little bit if that’s more of a coaching point of, “Hey, let them make the mistake. Let them take the 15 yards.” Where like you said, you mentioned it, you only get one shot. If you don’t protect a quarterback after the first time, nobody’s going to give a shit what you do after that. They’re just not. Because you didn’t have my back the first time. You didn’t have my back when I needed you. And you never know when those plays are going to happen. And that’s the thing. You’ve got to respond like that. You can’t be tepid about it thinking like, “Oh, am I going to go do something or am I going to…” No, it’s got to be, “No, you don’t touch my fricking guy.” And we were coached that way from James Campen and Mike McCarthy. If anything happened where it was a 15-yard penalty, I got fined a bunch of times because as soon as you get a personal foul or anything like that, it’s automatic fine.

But you know what? I think my coaches appreciate it. More importantly, I know for sure that my teammates appreciated it, too.

You can’t tell me there isn’t a correlation when you look at how these games ended for the Green Bay Packers — and how their season ended. The two collapses in Chicago. You’re up 21-3. There’s some heart missing, some guts. I know we’re cherry-picking one play. How you react in that moment says so much about you as a football team. I wonder if it’s coaching or ... I’ve spent a lot of time around those Detroit Lions and Dan Campbell. And Dan Campbell would probably be the first person to say, “Look, you can’t just inject toughness into a football team. It has to innately be inside of you.” When they’re going to sign players and draft players, they’re looking for a type, a DNA. We’re only going to add players to this locker room who — when something like that happens — like you just said, it’s instinct. You’re not thinking. You’re just doing. You’re fighting. It’s who you are. These coaches are around the players all day, every day, telling them to show restraint. Don’t jump into the pile. But a lot of it is the kind of guy you’re bringing in, too.

Lang: Yeah, I think so too. I look at a guy like Penei Sewell who’s very just instinctive. His rookie year, I remember the Lions were playing the Rams and Aaron Donald is grabbing his facemask, trying to intimidate him and he just reaches right back, grabs his facemask like, “You ain’t doing that to me.” You only get certain chances during a game to galvanize a team. Everybody sees that like, “Oh, look at the big dog out there, dude. Oh man, look at him. Do you see him stick up for himself or him go protect the guy that took the cheap shot?” You might never have that chance. But I think the dudes that really have that toughness factor that can change the culture of a locker room, it just comes, as you mentioned, it’s almost just instinctual. This is a physical sport. This is a violent sport. This is a sport where guys are going to try to intimidate you. Guys are going to try to get one up on you anytime they can. The more you stick up for yourself, your teammates, the more that’s going to back off the opposition.

That was always my mindset. When you look at a Green Bay factor, I don’t know what their issues were this past year. I got to watch them up close couple games and it’s like, “Man, they got all the talent in the world.” You could look at losing Micah Parsons as being a big issue. He was a guy that brought that toughness factor, especially for that defense.

I think you’re right, though. When you look at that offense, you’re like, “Who is the tone-setter?” And the tone-setter doesn’t always have to be a skill player. It doesn’t have to be a quarterback. It doesn’t have to be a Josh Jacobs type. I’ll give you an example. We played the Lions in 2014, the last game of the season. Winner takes the division, and I think the winner got the two seed and a bye came with it. Detroit came into Lambeau Field and the first play of the game all week, the coaches were just talking: “It’s a run to the right. We’re pretty much running right at Ndamukong Suh. And we’re going to fucking set the tone the first play of the game.” And if you go back and watch that play, Eddie Lacy made a nice move. I don’t think I had a great block, but I held Suh up just enough so he couldn’t make the tackle. He went for an eight-yard gain, and then you just see a pile of offensive linemen come behind him and push him for another six, seven yards. And I’m just telling you, the noise that you hear in that stadium. The energy that that builds. The energy that that builds on the sideline. To know that you got five badass MF’ing O-Linemen out there that are just going to not back down against a vaunted defensive line. The energy that injects into your team and into the stadium? That first play that we were able to set the tone was like ... and it gave us all kind of a sigh of relief, too. Like, “Hey, we’re feeling it today, boys. We’re feeling it.”

That feeling, you don’t get very often. And it was the same feeling I got a couple weeks later playing Dallas when we got into this skirmish on the sideline. I tell people all the time, I think that’s the loudest I’ve ever heard Lambeau Field cheer. You got Green Bay and Dallas getting into a fight on the sideline.

That place was rocking. It was right in front of us from the press box down below.

Lang: It was incredible. And I know I got the penalty afterwards and I felt like the goat. I’m like, “If we lose this game, people are going to look at this as one play.” But it galvanized the team. You could tell the energy on the sideline was different. I had defensive linemen coming up to me, “Hey, we got your back! We got your back! We got your back!” Julius Peppers, Mike Daniels, Clay Matthews. It’s almost like you kind of need something like that to wake you up a little bit or to break the ice. And I don’t think anything that I did was intentional, but you just hear that roar from the crowd and there’s something inside you that says, “This can be our day, this can be our day.”

And I’m not singling out the modern-day Green Bay Packers. I don’t feel that a lot with any teams anymore. I feel like a lot of coaches now, their mentality is almost just like, “Hey, let the other teams screw it up and just play clean football and they’re going to make the big mistake. And if we have to win 3-2, we’ll win 3-2.” It was a different era.

I don’t want to go down a rabbit hole here, but there’s a different style of player coming in the NFL now. These kids are getting paid. They’re coddled, man. They’re getting paid a ton of money. They’re not used to adversity. First thought of adversity, first sign of adversity, “OK, I’ll go somewhere else where they’re going to treat me like a superstar.” I didn’t see it. I retired in 2019, so I didn’t really get a good hint of that. But just the small part that I’m still around the game now, I see it a lot from the outside. So I think rewinding 10 years where a lot of us still have that old school mentality, it’s becoming rarer and rarer. Unfortunately, it is.

And I think that the results that you’re seeing on the football field? We watch football games. You’re a football junkie. A lot of the fans that are going to be watching this are football junkies. The product is not the same. It’s kind of dumbed down a little bit because it’s like, “We don’t want to confuse anybody. We don’t want to piss anybody off. We don’t want to call anybody out. We don’t want to embarrass anybody if they shut down. It’s changing. And in my opinion, not for the good.

But if you look at the teams that are winning Super Bowls: Philadelphia Eagles two years ago, the Seattle Seahawks this year. I spent a lot of time around that Texans defense. If they get competent quarterback play, maybe they’re in the Super Bowl playing Seattle and it’s 9-6 and we’re having a different conversation about football. But the teams that can find that kind of guy — that didn’t just play college football for the money, but truly love the game — you’re going to have an advantage. You’re going to have an edge.

Lang: That’s rare though, brother. That’s rare.

How difficult is it to find that type?

Lang: Listen, I’m not that dialed in with college football now. But I spent a couple days ago looking at just some mock drafts and 10 of the first 20 guys projected to go are like 23, 24 years old. And it’s like, “Huh? This guy had four redshirt years where he was injured?”

Tommy Callahan. A lot of people go to college for seven years.

Lang: Van Wilder, right? Now, it’s like he went to six different colleges and appealed for a sixth year or seventh year. This is insane. What the hell is going on? I think a lot of it’s because of the money. But a lot of it’s just the availability that these kids have. It’s like, “OK, I can go play another year. I can go to a different school and have a different experience.” Whatever it might be. I don’t think you get the players anymore that are just ... I understand the players that are coming from a Group of 5. The MAC or Sun Belt, schools like that and they’re like, “Hey, I think I can go play with the big boys. I want to get a little bit more exposure.” I can understand that. What I can’t understand is the guys transferring from Alabama to Ohio State to LSU to Ole Miss. That to me is like, “What?” I don’t get it. I think that it’s starting to bleed in those NFL locker rooms unfortunately.

That is a massive challenge — to try to dig through the motive behind all that. I don’t think there’s any problem with the kids saying, “Hey, I had a better opportunity there and my family’s really struggling and I really need to find a way to help them out.” I don’t have any problem with that because a lot of these juniors that come out to the NFL now have the same motive. So you can’t kill ‘em for doing that because, “Hey, I need to help my family.” Maxx Crosby was that type. Maxx Crosby, who I was really close to was an Eastern Michigan guy. I didn’t play at the same time with him, but he came out as a junior. And I remember guys from the Lions telling me like, “Oh, that’s bad, bad advice. He should probably go back to school for his senior year.” And I said, “He’s the type of dude that’s motivated to help his family out. Now.” And that motivation obviously worked for him.

If I was a scout, I think about this often. If I had three questions I could ask a player, what would they be? To try to dig to the bottom of exactly who that person is? I don’t know all three of them, but one of them would be: What’s your backup plan? Because there’s a lot of kids: “Oh, well, I got a degree in this. I could just go do this or I can go work for ... my dad owns this company. I can go do that.” I want the kid that’s like, “I got no fucking backup plan. I need to make this work.” My family’s counting on me. I got people that are fucking relying on me. If this doesn’t work, I got nothing. I got nothing. There’s no, “I’m going back to school to get a degree.”

Burn the ships.

Lang: I want players like that because that’s how I felt like I was. And I felt like that’s what drove me. I don’t have a rich family I can go back and just jump into a job with and be comfortable. No, I’ve got to go back to school. I’m going to have to pay out of my pocket. I’ve got to make this work. That would be one of the questions I would ask — what’s your backup plan? Obviously you’d have to decipher through the bullshit a little bit because these kids are so well-trained going into these interviews now.

But that’s a good one because their instinct might be, “Oh, they want me to have a backup plan.”

Lang: Some of them probably do. I’m the type of guy that’s like, “Yeah, I need you to make this work and I need you to dedicate yourself and make this work.” So obviously I didn’t take my own advice when I was 21. But if I could look back at 21-year-old TJ, I would’ve said that’s something similar there.

Your backup plan was, “Where’s the after party? I would’ve told you it’s at Rivers Edge. I was living in downtown Green Bay. You could’ve come over. That’s where everybody went in the media — they went back to my place. I was living that T.J. Lang life in 2011.

Lang: I lived in this condo right behind downtown, which we all know is a strip of four bars. Stir-Ups obviously used to be a popular one. I think that’s still chugging up there. But no, Green Bay, I’ll tell you what, that was the best place for me to be at that stage of my life. It was a big city. Obviously, everything is spread out. And the guys were so close together too. If you could put Lambeau Field here and then draw a 15-minute circle around it, everybody was kind of in that bubble. So it was like, “Hey, you want to ...” It felt like college. Like, “Hey, I’ll come pick you up. You want to go grab some dinner? I’ll come pick you up.” And you go to some of these other cities. Obviously, I finished my career in Detroit, which I’m from Detroit, so I understood the geographics of it. But it’s like, “Hey, where do you live at? You want to grab dinner?” Well, I’m in this town, which is 40 minutes away and it’s like, “Eh. That’s going to be a tough drive home after an O-Line dinner.”

On the current Packers, I think they do have some of those players. Tucker Kraft would be one and he was hurt.

Lang: He’s a dog. I like him a lot.

There were moments last year where Tucker Kraft just said, “F it, I’m taking the game over.” Josh Jacobs, same deal. And then he’s battling injuries at the end. Javon Bullard, defensively, I love the way he plays. So maybe there are little rays of hope.

Lang: McKinney’s a good player. I think it was a mistake to move Elgton (Jenkins) to the center. I think he was such a steady force there at left guard that I’m never a big fan of weakening two positions. Meaning, if one guy goes out, we’ve got to move you here, then you here, and then you go over this side. I always hated that. Let’s just plug a hole and we’ll fill in with the guys we’ve got next to you. I thought when they moved Elgton to center it was more of a desperation move. I thought if they just kept him there (they’d be fine), and Elton ended up getting hurt and missing a bunch of time there second half of the year, too. Which was a bummer and hurt them because I really like him a lot. Elgton’s been around long enough that he played with guys that I played with. He played with Bakhtiari and he played with Bulaga maybe for a year and those guys raved about him. They’re not going to give you that praise undeservedly.

Losing him lost a little bit of identity, especially on that offensive line. It felt like a hodgepodge along that offensive line. Walker’s going into a free agent year. You got Sean Rhyan going into a free agent year. You’ve got a couple other guys — rookie guys, free agent guys that Aaron Banks is a free agent. That first year of free agency, it’s weird trying to fit into a group: “I don’t want to establish myself as a leader. I want to fit in a little bit more before I see where I can take off.” Maybe he hits a different stride here going into Year 2 in Green Bay, but it just felt like there wasn’t enough chemistry.

And maybe I’m biased because the guys that I played with, we had three, four, five. I played with Sitton for seven years. I played with Bulaga for seven years. I played with Dave for five years. Corey, same thing, four or five years. We were spoiled by just having so much stability. You don’t have to question who’s next to it. We could hear the play call and we all know what we’re doing. When you have a hodgepodge with so many moving parts or new pieces or guys going from this spot to that spot, it’s going to be more challenging. So I would say this for Green Bay, especially up front on their offensive line, I hope they can just find some stability. And look, they had some young pieces, too. And when I talked about some of that toughness coming out and that enforcer mentality coming out, sometimes that does need a little bit of time where you can earn the trust from your teammates first. You’re so bogged down with “my job, my assignment, I’m making sure I know what I’m doing,” before you start worrying about the extra stuff. So I still have high hopes for those guys.

But when it comes to some of those shots on your quarterback, man. You take a 15-year-old penalty, sometimes it’s worth it. Not in the game’s sake, but for what you’re going to gain moving forward with the trust of your teammates and the respect that you’re going to get from your teammates.

You’d speak a certain language up front with Josh Sitton and those linemen. You’d get up to the line and you don’t need to say anything because you’d see the same exact thing that the defense is doing — and just react — thanks to those thousands and thousands of snaps.

Lang: And you know what? The special thing about that group would be the football IQ that we all had together. I can’t recall a specific time where we ever saw a look from the defense that we didn’t practice or weren’t prepared for. Because we studied so hard. Because we sat in that film room and we thought of different ideas that maybe the coaches didn’t even throw at us. “Well, I know they haven’t given this look against this personnel or this formation, but what if they do? What’s our adjustment?” Ah, don’t worry about that. They’ve never done that. Then you might get into a game and be like, “I’m glad we talked about that on Wednesday because they did give us that.”

Some of the smartest defensive players I ever played against were guys that listened to what the offense was saying. A Luke Kuechly, a Bobby Wagner, just talking about the middle linebacker guys. Obviously Urlacher or Lance Briggs that played in Chicago. Chad Greenway was the same way in Minnesota. They would listen to your call and offensive line calls are very, very elementary. If it starts with an L, we’re usually going to the left. If it starts with an R, we’re usually going to the right. Or if it’s east for us, that would be to our right. So it’s pretty simple to pick up. Especially with ... at the time we started playing the advanced TV copies that you would get with all the accesses. They started putting microphones on the center so you could get more microphone access to what’s going on at the line of scrimmage. That was sometimes so valuable to teams because you would just watch that and be like, “OK, he said Liz and it was a pass and the center went to the left.” So, we would have to counter ways to be like, “Let’s get to the line. We know it’s a Rip, but let’s say Liz anyways, because now they’re going to bring the blitz from this side and we’re going to fall right into it because we’re sliding into it.” Now it’s that cat-and-mouse game of, “I know he’s listening to us and he knows we’re listening to him.”

That was such a small part of the game that I had so much fun doing. Trying to fuck with the defensive tackle in front of me and the linebacker in front of me by calling a run block out: ‘Hey, we got an A scoop,’ which is both me and the center working together up to the middle linebacker. But in reality, we kind of fake it for two steps and then we drop back into a pass protection. Now the linebackers are sucked up to the line scrimmage like, “Oh shit, now you’re watching and trying to bail out to go cover the tight end.” That was the part of the game that I always really enjoyed.

The best defensive players I played against, they listened to your calls. Obviously you have percentages based off of personnel, formation. OK, hey, 80 percent of the time, they do this. But another underrated part of it, too, is if they can read the stance of the offensive lineman? Normally, that’s going to tell you what the play’s going to be. And I was a main culprit. If my feet were kind of ... if this is my left foot and this is my right foot, my right foot was back here, it was either a pass or it was a run to the right. Because I can’t be staggered like this and somehow open my hip to go scoop the nose tackle. So if it was a run to the left, I would always start in this position. And then as Aaron was getting into his “Green 18” or a dummy count, I would pretend like I’d turn back and listen, but I would somehow even my feet up. So I could do it where the D-tackle didn’t notice it. Because some of them wouldn’t even get into their stance until they looked at my stance like, “Okay, he’s going to his right.” And then we’d do a hard count and I’d fool with it at the last minute. Those are the little parts of the game that I enjoyed so much.

We just had that tight group of guys that were together for so long that we could do that where I could give you a dummy call as Corey Linsley as a center and you wouldn’t look at me and be like, “Wait, what?! No, that’s not the play. We’re going this way!” And I’d be like, “Fucking dumbass. I’m trying to fuck with these guys!” You know what I mean? We’d get to a play where it’d be like, “Oh yeah, yeah, yeah, I got you. I got you. I got you.” And you’d be like, “Fuck, I hope you really got me.”

That’s why you’ve got to play together for games, for years. So you can fuck around with the D-Linemen.

Lang: You need that chemistry, you need that kind of synchronicity. That’s such a little part of the game that I miss. Messing with the dudes on defense. And then pointing to him after the play being like, “Keep listening! Keep listening to me!” We would have dummy calls for ... Brian Flores is a really good defensive coach, and he still runs that Double A mug in Minnesota. Mike Zimmer was kind of the architect of that whole thing. And once we realized that they would blitz based off of who we would point at — which guy in which A gap — they would send the opposite and then the opposite safety. So the running back was responsible for two blitzers. We would have to come up with code names. So one of the good ones we came up with wasn’t even that clever. Anthony Barr was one of their middle linebackers they used to blitz. Him and Eric Kendricks all the time. So if we were going to Anthony Barr, we would just yell, “Whiskey, whiskey, whiskey, whiskey, whiskey.” We would yell whiskey and point at Kendricks. But we all knew we were going to Barr. A bar serves whiskey. You get it.

But that was a way we would counteract some of these blitzes — a misguided point, but make sure we’re all on the same page with who we’re really going to. And I think you could only do that with a veteran group of guys that had been together for so long. And it wasn’t just our offensive line. We had John Kuhn forever. Eddie Lacy for a while there. James Starks for a while. Jordy Nelson was part of it. Quarless was there for a while. Richard Rodgers. They were all in tune with, “Hey, you’ve got to be in tune with what we’re doing here because we’re going to try to fuck the defense up. Make sure we don’t fuck you up too.” We had a smart group of players, man, but we had so many reps together that I think was the most important part of creating so much of that success we were able to have.

Subscribe now

Meanwhile, you’re on play 52 of 75. You’re on E. You’re dead. Maybe you’re playing up-tempo. You’ve got to be able to think on the fly.

Lang: Oh yeah. No-huddle was awful, by the way. Oh my God. Mike McCarthy’s no-huddle offense? Ugh. We had a lot of success doing it. It wore you out, dude. We had one in the preseason. I can’t remember who we were playing. It might’ve been 2012, 2013, and we’re 13 plays into a no-huddle drive and Aaron calls for a power, which called for me to pull to the opposite side. And I looked at him in the huddle and I said, “No.” He said whatever the call was, power left. I was like, “Aaron, no.” He’s like, “What do you mean?” I’m like, “I can’t pull. My legs are gone, dude.” I’m like, “Call a three-step, call a three-step, call a three-step.”

Did he listen to you?

Lang: I think he called the power and then he got to the line and went, “Check, quick Jerry, quick Jerry,” which was a three-step. I was in a two-point stance on the goal line. I’m like, “I can’t even put my hand in the dirt right now, I’m so tired.” But it did have his benefits because then it limits what the defense can do with their substitution. And it forces the defense coordinator into a more vanilla call when you only have five seconds to get to play in. So it had its benefits. But, man, you’d get into that 16-play drive and it’d be like, “OK, can we huddle up please?”

When you guys made the shift, I think Alex Van Pelt was around and he played in the K-Gun here in Buffalo. Was it 2013 maybe that you guys really leaned in heavy to no huddle?

Lang: Yeah, it felt like right about that time. 2013, 2014-ish where we started ramping it up. I think 2013 might’ve been the experimental factor where Mike was calling plays. And I think 2014 got to the point where he gave Aaron pretty much free reign at the line of scrimmage. Get up the line, see the substitution, see the formation, and let’s all get on the same page here and get into the right play.

I can still remember in 2014 spending the entire week in Seattle ahead of that NFC Championship game and thinking the Seahawks are going to win by 20, 30 points. Their swagger was on a different level. You’ve got Marshawn Lynch cranking the rap music in the locker room. These defensive players are talking about their legacy. I’m thinking. “The Packers don’t know what’s about to hit them.” They kicked your ass in Week 1 that year.

Lang: Week 1, they beat the shit out of us. I think they had eight sacks in the first half against us. … I remember walking up at halftime and they put up on the big screen how many sacks they had and us walking in as an offensive line, we were like, “Whoa.” And first of all, if it was eight, I think five of them were on a play-action bootleg that Aaron should have thrown the ball. “That’s not true. It’s only four. Fuck these guys!” That was a scary place to play.”

But then you guys go in there to whatever it was called, Qwest Field, Century Link and you kicked their ass for 56 minutes.

Lang: Yeah, for 55 minutes. They threw everything at us.

Good to dust off that fond memory, but we have to talk about that game. That’s the one that got away.

Lang: That really is the one. If you talk to any player from that era — more than any other year. I played there for eight years and we made the playoffs all eight years I was there. That 2014 year for me was the clear-cut year we should have won the Super Bowl. More than 2010. Because 2010 was a young team. We snuck into the playoffs as a six seed. We had no pressure. We had to go on the road. Let’s just go see what happens. Maybe that freedom that we played with was beneficial. Because the longer it takes to get back there, I think the pressure starts to build a little bit. 2011 hurt because we were such a good team, 15-1, smoking teams. 2012, a little bit of a weird year. 2013, Aaron broke his collarbone and missed a bunch of games. ‘14 was the year that everything has finally come back together. And we had such a vengeance going back to Seattle because we had started to build an outer-division rivalry with that team. They were our most-hated team. They overtook the Bears and the Vikings and the Lions. “We need to beat the Seahawks.” And we understood what kind of toughness it was going to take because you understood how tough the team that was.

And so when we went back there in the NFC Championship game, we were feeling good about ourselves, man. We had a great week of preparation. And obviously that showed for most of the game. Especially with our defense. Defense played phenomenal. Offense, I still look at that as probably a C-minus game because I think we had the ball twice on the goal line and had to settle for field goals. We threw a pick early in that game that they were clearly offsides on, but they did not blow the whistle. I think the only reason Aaron threw that ball was because he thought he had a free play. That took points off the board.

But obviously the big play in that game everybody remembers. “Hey, everything that could go wrong has gone wrong. Let’s just recover this onside kick and we’re going to be good.” And I remember being in the huddle for that because it was TV timeout. I remember a bunch of us offensive players going in the huddle and echoing what the coaches were saying: “Just do your job, do your job, do your job, block your guy. Jordy’s going to catch this thing. We almost blew this thing, but we’re going to go to Super Bowl. Just do your job.” And then we obviously remember how that ended up.

After that game, I remember having a bunch of hostility towards Brandon Bostick. Like “Dude, if you just would’ve blocked your guy, Jordy was literally behind him like this.” As I’ve gotten older — and hopefully a little bit wiser — I look back at probably five or six plays that I had in that game where I’m like, “If I would’ve done a better job, maybe we don’t get stuffed at the 1-yard line. Maybe it doesn’t even come down to that.” And I think that’s a common sentiment between a lot of the guys that played that game where, yeah, Brandon Bostick took the heat the most because it was the biggest play at the biggest time of that game. But I think everybody on that field felt like, “Dude, he had one bad play. I had five bad plays that I want back.”

It sucked. But it was almost a comedy of errors. We needed eight things to go against us and 10 things went against us. We just needed one out of 10 things to go right for us. And all 10 went the other way. Whether it be Ha Ha (Clinton-Dix) on the two-point conversion where it was just heaved up. And I don’t mean to single him out, but he miss-jumped the timing or Morgan Burnett who had the pick and maybe could have scored. He goes down.

Peppers did this. (Motion hands down)

Lang: Yeah, right. But we had turnover earlier in that game where we would’ve had the ball inside the 5-yard line. And I think Mike Daniels took a personal foul hitting a guy late. Backed us up. We had to settle for a field goal. And I’m not blaming any of these guys, don’t get me wrong. I’m just listing plays. Everything went wrong for us. I had a play where I pulled around on a power and I was supposed to block the linebacker, but I saw Kam Chancellor coming down and I kind of dove out on him instead and the wide receiver came to block him and I let the linebacker free. That could have been a 20-yard gain, Maybe a house call. So you have all these little plays that you think about that, “What could have made that not matter?”

Even the fake field goal. If anybody on the sideline would’ve just been like “Safe! Defense Safe! We will give them three points. We’re up 16-0.” Give them three points. Just go safe defense. Obviously, you get in those big games and you have a bunch of stuff that you second-guess. Even with all the crazy shit that happened, for us to put a little bit of a drive together at the very end of that game to go tie it back up, then we lose a coin flip. And we all know how that one ended, but that was a dagger. That’s probably the hardest game for me to rewatch out of my entire career because it was right there. It was right there.

And it was so different from the 2016 NFC Championship game because 2016 was just such a rollercoaster, man. We started 4-6, and then we run the table. We were in the NFC Championship game. But it felt like we were down 21-0 getting off the bus in Atlanta. It felt like no matter what we did, it was their day. And it sucks to say, because obviously in the moment you don’t feel that. You want to believe, “Hey, we can turn this thing around. We’ll hit that switch and, boom, we got Aaron Rodgers, we’re going to be good. But that game, for whatever reason. The day before that was a nightmare. I mean, a nightmare. We get to the airport in Green Bay at 2 o’clock and there’s fog like I’ve never seen before in my life. We sat at the airport for a couple hours. Because Green Bay is a small airport. They have to get special clearances to take off and land.

All of a sudden, we’re calling some buses. We’re going down to Milwaukee. We’ve got to fly out of Milwaukee. So long story short, not making excuses, but just to tell you how hectic that day was, I think we got to the hotel at 12:30 or 1 o’clock in the morning. The morning of the NFC Championship game. And this is also a group of guys that you’re used to routine where, “Hey, I’ve got a pregame routine. I’ve got a Saturday night routine. I’m eating this at this time. I’m going to bed at this time. I’ve got my certain snacks or vitamins that I’m going to take. When you get to the hotel and it’s like, “Hey, we got pizza and French Fries for you at 1 o’clock in the morning.” And then you basically hustle to bed and then you got to get ready for a 3:30 game the next day, it’s like, “Holy shit.”

I was in charge of the pregame speech that day, and I think that’s the first thing I said. I’m like, “Yesterday fucking sucked! But it’s over! It’s going to make today feel so much better. And I gave this great rah-rah speech and I’m like, “Dude, I’m going to be like Charles Woodson where my fucking speech is engraved on the ring.” And then we get our ass smoked and I’m like, “Oh fuck, somebody else should have done that speech. Shit, I blew it. I blew my one chance.”

You’re at fault. It’s not the fact that Ladarius Gunter is on Julio Jones or Geronimo Allison is out there. It was T.J. Lang’s speech.

Lang: And we missed the field goal early in that game. I think we fumbled inside the 10 later in that game. Julio Jones, and I’m not trying to say anything bad about our defense, but I don’t care who he was going against that day. He was a grown man. He was a grown freaking man. Matt Ryan had a rushing touchdown. It was like, “God, it’s clearly their day.” We had so many injuries. I ended up getting knocked out. I broke my foot in Week 12 and they told me my season was over. I’m like, “That’s not possible. I’m going into a free agent year. I’ve got to come back and play.” I missed three games and came back and played with a big cast over my cleat. I ended up re-breaking it in that NFC Championship game, I think in the second half. We had two defensive linemen playing guard at the end. Our right guard was Letroy Guion at the end of that game. It was kind of like, “We gave it a hell of a run boys.”

Ran out of gas.

Lang: It sucked for me because when I broke it, I knew it right away. I knew the feeling because I knew the feeling from the first time it broke. And it was just a weird play where me and Corey Linsley stepped on each other and I felt it pop. Right away, I knew it was over. I went down and I remember my phone blowing up afterwards. Because they’re taking me off the field and I was in tears. I had a towel in front of my face and they’re taking me off on the cart and I was literally sobbing. It wasn’t from breaking my foot. It was because I knew that was the last time I was going to put that helmet on. I just had a feeling. I had a feeling that was the last game I was going to play in Green Bay. All the emotions hit me so hard. I remember going back and rewatching and Troy Aikman was like, “Oh, I played with an O-Lineman. He blew his ACL and MCL and PCL and meniscus out like that. See the way his knee tweaks.” So everybody’s blowing up my phone like, “Dude, you’re about to be a free agent. Did you really just blow your knee out?” And I’m like, “What the fuck are they talking about? No, I broke my foot.”

And I think Troy ended up correcting himself saying, “Oh, I’m not saying that’s what it is.” But it’s right away after the game. All the emotions hit me, dude. That was the most emotional I’ve ever been. I don’t think I’ve ever welled up like that during a game before. But I had a feeling. This place was so special to me for more reasons than just football there in Green Bay. It was the last place I ever saw my Dad before he left and passed away in January 2012.

But it was special to me. It’s where my daughter was born, where we raised my first two kids. And it was more than just like, “Oh, I’m going to miss the guys on this team.” It was like this chapter is closed and I just knew it. And it just hit me unfortunately right there on the field as that fourth metatarsal snapped in half again.

How would that not hit you? All the above. It was lung cancer for your Dad, right?

Lang: Yeah. So I talk about 2011 being a changing point in my life. Good and bad. I lost my grandpa earlier that year in March of 2011. Obviously, we talked about the good stuff that happened with my son being born in August, winning a starting spot. And then that November, my dad got diagnosed with lung cancer and passed away not even two months later. And I don’t know how much people realized that 2011 season — where we were 15-1, making it look easy for the most part — we hit the playoffs, dude, and it was like a brick wall. It was a brick wall for a lot of people. My Dad passed away during that bye week and Joe Philbin, our offensive coordinator’s son, passed away a couple days apart from each other. It was such an emotional week getting ready for the Giants. You just had that bubble. I know I did. I can’t speak for everybody else. But I know I had that obviously for me and Joe, and I think everybody else in my room, we were so close, had that for Joe. Because we knew how devastating that was. So that was an unfortunate loss for a lot of people. But that week was honestly a blur.

I remember Aaron Rodgers putting the suit on in the locker room. The funeral was that Friday, and that was the first funeral I believe he had ever even attended in person. This was weighing heavy on the entire team. You could feel it in there.

Lang: Super, super. And Joe’s son was either late teens or early 20s. He was a young kid. For me, I know it was a blur. I had such tremendous support from the guys and everything, and I know we all tried our best to support Joe and his family. But it was a heavy fucking week.

I didn’t know that your dad was that same week.

Lang: Same week. My Dad passed away that Thursday right before we went on the bye week, and Joe’s son was maybe over that weekend. We had the bye week, so I think we had Friday, Saturday, Sunday off. And I think we come back Monday or something like that. The fucking air was out of our balloon, man. It was devastating. Because it’s real life. Real life stuff, real life pain that you’ve got to deal with. And you talk about how bad I felt for my own Dad, but how bad we felt for Joe when you talk about a child. It was heavy. So I think a lot of people kind of forget about that.

We were just such a close-knit... that’s why I tell you Green Bay was so unique. Everybody. Coaches, players’ wives, and coaches’ wives. I see other organizations where you don’t know anybody. You don’t know the GM’s wife or the strength coach’s girlfriend or anything. But Green Bay, you couldn’t avoid it almost. It was such a close-knit family feel. A big part of it was that’s all we really had in that town. And I know obviously they’ve done a heck of a lot of work the last eight to 10 years of building that city up a little bit and making it feel a little bit bigger. But back when we were there, man, that’s all we had. All the wives were hanging out. My wife last week just went on a trip with a bunch of the wives of guys that I played with 10 years ago. They still try to get together once a year for a weekend.

It had that community feel to it. Any time that anybody went through a tragedy of any sort, you felt that personally because you felt like that was truly a brother. That’s why I tell people how unique Green Bay was. There’s no place like it. Buffalo might be the next closest. But I don’t think there’s really any place like Green Bay in the rest of the league, man. And that’s what makes it such a special place. I miss the hell out of it, dude. I still consider it my second home. Even though I work for Lions doing Lions radio now that I’m back home in Detroit, I still try to keep in touch with everybody I played with. I still try to stay in tune with what they’re doing up there because I can’t forget that passion that I had for eight years of my life and how much that place means to me. You don’t just forget that overnight. It’s always going to be a part of me.

Subscribe now

The town and the team are intertwined in a way that is incomparable to anything else. It is special here in Western New York but Green Bay is much, much, much smaller. You go out on Washington Street for a beer and you’re probably going to run into three, four players. You’ve got a few options when you’re thinking about dinner, a beer, pumping your gas, anything. But it does make everybody tight in this community way that you don’t get anywhere else in any sport.

Lang: No. And I’ll tell you the funny thing, too. If you’re in Detroit where I’m at now, or a big city, and you see an athlete or a celebrity out at dinner, people are starstruck like, “Oh my God! I can’t believe you’re sitting over there!” I feel like in Green Bay — especially the locals that live there — were so nice and respectful and made you feel like almost like a college, like a high school town. “We’re coming to your game on Friday night and we’re all going to be rooting for you.” They’re used to seeing people out because it is such a small town. Running into somebody at the grocery store isn’t a big deal. I saw them two days ago or going to a restaurant and be like, “Oh, he’s here all the time.”

They probably give you hell, too.

Lang: Yeah, some of them would. But it makes you feel more like a community type feel that they also respect your space and your time and your privacy. At the same time, instead of coming up and asking for pictures or asking a thousand questions — and listen, I’m not putting myself in this boat, but Aaron used to come with us to O-Line dinner most Thursday nights where people would just kind of gently stop by and, “Hey, just want to wish you guys good luck this weekend. Go Pack. Big fan.” And you appreciate stuff like that. The stuff you don’t appreciate is, “Hey, can I take 10 pictures or ask you 50 questions?” You didn’t get that in Green Bay. I’ll tell you that much. You didn’t get that because I think it was just such a norm that you’re going to see these guys out all the time because it is such a small town. That’s one thing that I always appreciated. It reminds me of a Northern Michigan small town where everybody’s just community. Everybody’s nice. Everybody’s family. Everybody cares for each other. And that’s what made Green Bay such a special place for me. And it still is a special place.

I can see where it would hit you a ton of bricks as you’re getting carted off in Atlanta.

Lang: Hard, dude. Hard, man.

All this is running through your mind? Friends, the teammates, the playoff losses, how close you were, and just knowing that this is the end.

Lang: Never getting back was the hardest part. To that Super Bowl. Because I tell you, even to this day, of course I appreciate my Super Bowl ring. But for me personally, I never felt like I did much to earn that. I started four or five games my rookie year. My second year, the offensive line pretty much stayed healthy for the whole year. Taush went out, but then Bulaga filled in. Those guys pretty much played. I filled in spot duty here and there. And then the NFC Championship game, I think I had to play maybe a quarter, a quarter and a half when “Cliffy” got his little stinger, and I got Aaron smoked by Julius Peppers. One of Mike’s first calls was a play-action pass. It was 1 on 1, me and Julius Peppers, on the backside. Smoked. And I looked down and Aaron was wincing. I think he busted his lip and I reached down, grabbed his shoulder pads as hard as I could and yanked him up as fast as I could. I’m like, the longer I let him sit on this field, the more cameras they’re going to show, the more replays are going to show about me getting beat. And I’m like, “That ain’t going to happen. Get your ass up. No huddle. Get to the line. Let’s go.”

I’m not kidding. Probably four or five years, I didn’t even want to look at my Super Bowl ring. It motivated me to help my team to get back there when I was a starter, when I was a meaningful player on that team, when I was a leader. And obviously the older I get, the more I appreciate that. But that was the hardest part — never getting back. Because I never had that feel of “I was on the field when we took that knee in the Super Bowl.” And I know that might be a selfish thought to some people listening, but that was just the kind of way that I had to motivate myself to get back there.

Dude, I’m telling you. I texted Mike McCarthy that maybe last year. It was like a Sunday morning. I was sitting around watching NFL Network and they were showing the Top 10 most heartbreaking playoff losses. I think we had four of them. It was Seattle, both Arizona games — ‘09 and ’15. We lost both of them in overtime. Maybe it was just the three of them. Maybe the 2011 one was honorable mention just because we were a 15-1 team and lost to a six-seed Giants. At least they went on to win the Super Bowl. That’s what we tried to tell ourselves. But I’m like, “Three of the top 10 all time are heartbreaking playoff losses?”

How often do you think about 2014? Seattle?

Lang: I try not to, to be honest with you. I try not to. During the Super Bowl, I always have NFL Network or something on in the background, and they always kind of do that 30-minute Super Bowl highlight of each Super Bowl. And I think it was in the background when I was in the kitchen — the 2014. And I immediately yelled at my son to turn it off because I didn’t want to watch ... Although Seattle ended up losing to New England. Gave me a little satisfaction, but no, it was like, “Turn it off, can’t watch it.”

You guys did beat New England in the regular season.

Lang: We did. We beat them at Lambeau. … I try not to think about it. Josh Sitton and I did an interview. We were back in Green Bay this past season. Somebody was doing a documentary type deal on the Green Bay Packers and we were a part of it. A lot of their questions were kind of around that 2014 year. So that brought up some bad memories for both of us. We probably both said some things that we’re going to regret. We’re going to regret it whenever it comes out in a year from now. Some of the stuff that we said. You’re so attached to this. You’re so emotional about it. It’s like that line from “Moneyball” where Brad Pitt’s like, “How can you not be emotional about baseball?” That’s how you feel about football game. It’s impossible not to. It’s impossible to think about it as just a profession and “I’m just going to go to the next team. Whoever wants to pay me more.” It’s impossible not to develop relationships or a passion for the town that you’re playing in. Especially as offensive lineman, which I think you would agree, we consider ourselves probably the most down to earth athletes in all major sports, I would argue. So it’s impossible not to feel a different array of emotions. Josh was there for eight years. I was there for eight years. Bulaga was there for a ton of time. Same with Dave and Corey. The guys that were my best buddies. Aaron, obviously. It’s hard not to be emotional about a lot of the stuff that you do. So I try not to think about 2014 very often, but it’s that one lesson that you learn. Unfortunately, you carry it with you forever.

Use it with the kids. Somehow?

Lang: Yeah. I mean, you might have to. But at the same time, there was a ton of great memories from that year as well. It is what it is.

You hit on those lessons at the top, too, that the Packers of today can take. If somebody goes after your quarterback, bum-rush him.

Lang: There’s no negotiation. Because I see a lot of the comments like, “Oh, LaFleur coaches them this way.” Or Stenavich — the coordinator who used to be the offensive line coach — “oh, they’re coached that way.” I don’t give a damn. Honestly, I swear to God, I’d rather go into the locker room with my coaches screaming at me in a team meeting room and then walk in the locker room and have 50-fucking-5 guys fist bump me and be like, “We got your back.” Then, to sit there and not do anything? And the coaches say, “Hey, great job. Way to restrain yourself after watching your quarterback get cheap-shotted.” And then wondering what the guys in the locker room are thinking about you. I’d rather have it the first way every day. Every fucking day. I’d rather have it that way. Because like I said at the beginning, you can fool your coaches. You ain’t going to fool your teammates. Your teammates are going to know exactly who the fuck you are.

And in the age of NIL and these college players getting paid — with a different type of 23-, 24-year-old entering the pros — the teams that can find that type of player in high volume are the teams that will win games in January. It’s harder to find those players, those TJ Langs. They’ve got to be out there somewhere.

Lang: They’re definitely out there. Going off recency bias, look at what John Schneider has done in Seattle. And it’s a combination of not just all just finding those guys for the draft, but also finding those guys from other teams that might be castaways, that might have chips on your shoulder. He has put on a masterclass of roster-building and obviously it paid off for them by winning the Super Bowl. Every year is so different.

It seems like whoever wins it, other people try to, “OK, what was their method behind it?” Every year is different. So you have to be convicted on how you build a team. And I think Gutey does it the right way. I’ve talked to him a ton of times. I know what he’s looking for in players. I think it’s just getting harder to be right about those players and to identify those players. And that’s not a one-person problem. That’s with everybody around the league. Moving forward, you’re going to see a little bit more of what John did out in Seattle where it’s “Hey, we might have to make some hard decisions and let go of a very popular player like a Bobby Wagner or a very popular player like a DK Metcalf and bring in a conglomerate of dudes that can mold back into picking up those pieces.” And obviously when you have success, there’s going to be a lot of people that are studying what you’ve done. And I think that’s probably going to be the new norm that I think is going to be maybe the most sustainable for the NFL moving forward. Certainly you need pieces in the draft that are going to help you and be cheaper and can have that right attitude, but you’re going to need the right mixture of veterans that can come in and are hungry as hell.

Like Seattle, led by their quarterback. Sam Darnold, the guy won 14 games last year in the regular season and he was basically kicked out of Minnesota. I know he had a bad game against LA in the playoff game, but players like that mold — that have the chip on their shoulder and you know can play winning football. Whether it’s quarterback, defensive line, DeMarcus Lawrence-type of guy. Some of the guys they picked up, Rashid Shaheed, who was nobody in New Orleans. A gadget player. I think that’s going to be studied what they did out there. And John, obviously with his Green Bay roots, maybe that’s something that Gutey looks at and says, “OK, maybe we have to change the approach a little bit to get back to the top of the mountain.”

Eastern Michigan connection. I imagine the Lions have deployed you to convince Maxx Crosby to want to be a Detroit Lion. When’s that trade going down?

Lang: I don’t know why everybody thinks that. I talk to Maxx once in a while. As early as Tuesday, the Bears were a minus-150. And they just freed up some cap space with their center retiring, too. Maybe them. But I would be shocked if it’s Detroit. That’s just not the way they really operate. But I would say when you have a season, when you go 15-2, and then you miss the playoffs the next year, usually some big changes happen. I just think it won’t happen with Detroit because they just have so many young players that are going to eat up a lot of the cap that they want to be saving, especially for the next probably three, four years. So I’d be surprised, but I wouldn’t be surprised to see Chicago make the move because I think they got the taste of success last year. Obviously winning the division and Ben Johnson reinvigorating that team. Plus, you still have a young quarterback on that rookie deal. It’s the time to make some big moves. Especially their defense was kind of faded out by the amount of the plethora of turnovers that they created. Outside of that, they were probably a bottom 10 defense. So I wouldn’t be surprised to see them make a move, but I don’t think it’s going to be Detroit. I think that they’re going to find other ways to fill some gaps across their team, whether it be draft or free agency. But I’d have a hard time picturing them make a big trade for Maxx.

You can always move money around. Just talk to Jared, Amon-Ra, Penei and say, “All right, all this money, we’ll convert to bonuses.”

Lang: People like to say the salary cap is fake. I’m just waiting for the NFL to take up the Dodgers model of like, “Hey, we’re going to pay you 30 years from now.”

Bobby Bonilla contracts across the board.

Lang: We’re going to defer it for 20 years. How about that? I’m just waiting for the NFL to start taking up that model a little bit. But no, you’re right. There’s always ways to make moves. I just think if you’re a team that has holes, multiple holes and multiple question marks, it’s probably harder to make a big move like that where you’re giving up that much draft capital. And I’d put the Lions in that boat. I don’t think they’re far off. But both of their starting safeties who are All Pro-caliber, Kerby Joseph has a lingering knee injury. Brian Branch is going to be coming off an Achilles. Sam LaPorta’s coming off a back surgery. Their offensive line was pretty much in shambles last year with some of the injuries that they had. So if you feel like you’re one or two pieces away, then that’s the move you make. And I think Chicago might be closer to feeling that way than Detroit does.

What about Aaron Rodgers? Is he going to be a playing quarterback for the Pittsburgh Steelers this season?

Lang: I feel like we’re going to find out in the next week. You can’t wait until May anymore. Although I would say, I don’t know what free agent quarterbacks are out there. Obviously a Kyler Murray’s going to get moved. We know that. I would say I think Aaron’s going to try one more year. I would say that. Because I think he had a couple really tough years in New York. Obviously the first year with the Achilles, the second year just being in an overall dysfunctional organization, I think wears on you. I would say maybe he got that little bit of a taste last year by making it to the playoffs and feeling like, “Hey, we’re not far off.” And maybe him and Mike have amended some things. Obviously, I love Mike going back to Pittsburgh.

That’s possible, though? You really think that they could mend that relationship?

Lang: I think it is. I don’t want to sound corny, but I think time maybe can make the heart grow fonder. And I think that maybe in a football sense — I’m not saying this because I don’t want my wife to hear it — but maybe some time apart can make you realize what you missed. I would say that. And we had it. I only played for three head coaches, but he is — by far — the best head coach I ever had. And I know a ton of people feel the same way. And his passion for Pittsburgh was never a secret. I mean, he always used to talk about it. He was proud to be from Pittsburgh, kind of same way I always talked about being from Detroit. You understand it. I think he’s going to have all the motivation in the world to go back there and have success.

I do. I really feel in my heart that I think maybe on both their parts, Mike and Aaron spending so much time together and then spending a good amount of time away from each other, maybe that makes you appreciate each other a little bit more. So I would throw that out there. I could definitely see Aaron coming back for one more year playing for Mike, and it’d be good to watch those two get back on the same page and maybe have a good amount of success out there. I’d be rooting for both of them.

If I’m Mike McCarthy, I’d be very interested in a Malik Willis or a young quarterback to mold. Work your quarterback-guru magic, whatever he’s talking about in these head coach interviews. That’s his thing.

Lang: Pittsburgh’s a very proud team. They’re a very proud city. Mike Tomlin never had a losing season in 18 years. I don’t think that’s a town that’s going to accept, “Hey, let’s take a young quarterback for a year or two.”

I think the town would. I think the fans would. Ownership doesn’t want any of that.

Lang: Yeah, but you talk guys like Malik Willis. From the small sample size in Green Bay, he certainly seemed capable of not making the big mistake, I would say that. But I think if Mike wants to come in Year 1 with a bang — especially Aaron coming off that playoff appearance — I could see that.

The Texans ate him up, T.J. It was ugly.

Lang: Oh yeah. That Texans defense is nasty. We’re going to see. Obviously Pittsburgh has holes to fill, but I think that’s a team that just wants to continue the success and always know they got a shot. Just believe that you got a shot. Believe that you got a shot. Aaron Rodgers, even at this age, he can’t move like he used to. Anytime you got a quarterback like that, you’re going to believe that you got a shot. I wouldn’t be surprised. I don’t know anything. I talk to Mike all the time. I haven’t talked to Aaron in a while. But I could see both of them maybe getting on board and saying, “Hey, let’s rekindle this one more time. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

It would be fascinating. That is telling that McCarthy is open to it, to his credit with how things ended. It did not end well. But it has been six years.

Lang: And I would root for both of them, man. At this point in both their careers, I would root for both of them. I really would.

T.J., we could talk for hours and hours and hours.

Lang: It’s only been, what, 10 minutes?

Anything else you want the people to know that you’ve got going on in your life, football or otherwise?

Lang: No, not really, man. I think I’ve found that — I’m not going to say perfect — but it’s a good balance of being around the game, calling games on Sundays, working during the fall, and then getting to spend the spring and the summer with my family and with my kids and taking them to school and all their hockey and baseball and figure skating and events. I’ve got a good balance right now. It’s been funny. The older I get, the little bit of an itch I get to be like, “Do I think I could coach?” Maybe. Do I want to work 100 hours a week?” I’m not there yet.

But the one thing I would say, is I think the last maybe five years, and understandably so, I’ve been kind of more portrayed as the “Detroit Lions guy,” and I know we’re going to get a lot of Green Bay people that listen to this. I always consider myself a Green Bay Packer. I’m never going to be a Hall of Famer, but the argument is, “What’s he going to go in the Hall of Fame as? This player or this player?” For me, I always consider myself a Green Bay Packer, and I’m always proud of that. I miss being in Green Bay. I love Green Bay. I love going back there when I get to go on the road with the Lions. Honestly, it sounds corny. I’m a fan of both of them. If one of them gets knocked out in the playoffs, I throw on all my gear for the other team. I’m ready to go.

I was blessed to have a 10-year career playing for both teams, hometown team, and obviously in Green Bay for eight years. And I cherish it every single day. I love it. I still have all my captain pictures and jerseys on my wall. I’m proud of it. I miss that place like hell. I always consider it my second home. And I love Detroit. I also love Green Bay just as much. So any time I get to talk about the old time, especially with you, buddy, it’s always good time.

The pleasure is all here. Covered this league for 15 years. You are right at the top of the list. There’s that gravitational pull toward T.J. Lang’s locker because it might just be BS’ing with the recorder off for 10, 15, 20 minutes, or we’re talking about a game and you know that T.J.’s going to keep it real.

Lang: Honesty got me pulled into the coach’s office, I would say more than five or six times. But at the end of the day, what do you want me to do? I can’t lie to the people. We sucked today. The playcalling sucked. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, Mike. Maybe I won’t say “suck” next time.

So you’d get called into the principal’s office? C’mon Mike.

Lang: Oh yeah. Usually me and Josh at the same time. Hey, somebody would come down and, “Hey, the big guy wants to see you upstairs.” Any time you’ve got to go to the fourth floor, it’s like, “Ah, shit.” And then you’re Googling your quotes. Did it really seem that bad? “Fuck. Yeah, we shouldn’t have said that. We probably shouldn’t have said that.” That’s another big part that we appreciated was we didn’t feel like we were answering to a boss. We felt like playing with Mike and playing under Mike, playing under James Campen, maybe we say something that you might regret, but you could have those conversations, hash it out by lunchtime. Hey, we’re onto the next task.

You know me. I’m never going to mince words. I’m never going to bite my tongue. It’s just unfortunately who I am. It’s got me in trouble at some points, but I think a big part of the reputation that I’ve built is based off of the fact that I’ve always prided myself in just being honest and giving it to you the way that it is. It’s still who I am to this day.

Share

Thank you for growing our community at Go Long.

We are powered by you.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

ICYMI:

Go Long has you covered all offseason long. Thank you for growing our community.

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

SANTA CLARA, Calif. — He looks over his shoulder and nods toward the New England Patriots’ team hotel during Super Bowl Week, a spacious Marriott property with gigantic images of Drake Maye and Christian Gonzalez draped down the side. There’s maid service, a hot breakfast and — each morning — everyone knows they’re one day closer toward competing in the greatest sports event on earth.

A totally different dimension from his life in 2013.

Ashton Grant thinks back to his personal tipping point, back to when he attended a prep school in the deep woods of Great Barrington, Mass.

Those mornings, Grant wasn’t worried about preparing for a championship game. No, he woke up with one concern at the forefront of mind.

Bed bugs.

His arms. His legs. His neck. Small red dots covered his entire body.

“That hotel,” he says, “is way nicer than where we were staying.”

Of course, Super Bowl LX then felt something like a million bed bugs striking at once. The Seattle Seahawks “Dark Side” defense devoured the Patriots, 29-13. A crunching, humiliating defeat that reduced Drake Maye to tears. The quarterback who lost the NFL MVP award by one first-place vote was dazed, confused and shockingly hesitant under game-long assault. He’s only 23 years old. When a quarterback is this good, this fast, we generally view any playoff loss as a learning experience.

Maye could play another two decades. Surely, a young quarterback this supremely talented will be back.

But not exactly.

At 23, Dan Marino set NFL records in passing yards (5,084), touchdowns (48), completions (362) and won MVP. He played another 15 seasons and never reached the Super Bowl again. At 27, Aaron Rodgers sat atop the football world as a Super Bowl champ. It was only his third season as the starter. We all assumed a quarterback knifing daggers so pristine would collect Lombardi Trophies. It’s been 15 years. He hasn’t even been back to the game.

Concern is real for the best today. Joe Burrow, at 25, was one whiffed fourth-and-1 block away from Super Bowl immortality. He has not been back.

Losing on this stage is gut-wrenching. I stood three feet away from Maye during his postgame presser. His voice cracked, his tears flowed, the merciless finality of an NFL season knocked the wind out of Maye more than any of those 11 hits absorbed on the field. The 2025 Patriots were history. The 2026 Patriots would be a completely different team. Maye realized in real time, he was heading back to base camp.

With the new league year beginning next week, it’s a perfect time to note that Drake Maye — that quarterback beaten to a pulp — is positioned to get back to a Super Bowl better than those QBs before him. Use any metric. That shoulder injury was obviously throbbing more than anyone knew. He wasn’t himself all postseason. These Patriots have roughly $39.2 million to spend, per OverTheCap.com. Veterans will climb over each other for the chance to play with Maye.

Mike Vrabel is the coach of the year. Josh McDaniels is the coordinator who worked with Tom Brady for 13 seasons.

And then there’s the quarterbacks coach few know anything about.

Arguably nobody spends more time at 1 Patriot Place with Maye than Ashton Grant.

Go Long sat down with the 30-year-old in Santa Clara during Super Bowl Week to learn more.

It’s easy to see how this turbo-fast riser in the industry has meshed so effortlessly, so naturally with Maye.

Grant starred as a wideout at D-II Assumption University, setting school records in receiving yards (3,204) and touchdown receptions (36). After cups of coffee in camp with the Chicago Bears and Kansas City Chiefs, he latched on as a quality control coach at Holy Cross in 2019, joined the Cleveland Browns staff in 2020 and worked his way up to this opportunity in 2024 with New England. During his sabbatical as a consultant in Cleveland, Vrabel loved what he saw.

All traits any coach could desire in a quarterback were evident in Maye. Immediately. Brains. Athleticism. Natural leadership. Huge arm. T.C. McCartney, his first position coach in New England, saw it all. Grant will never forget three points his college coaches preached: Attitude, attention to detail, urgency.

Words he strives to live by “every single day.” It’s why he insists he’s never had a bad day at work.

This relationship blossomed because, while every coach sings the virtues of “process over results,” it’s a way of life in New England. McDaniels is notoriously tough on players and Grant isn’t afraid to ding Maye for mistakes on what resemble MVP-worthy plays to the naked eye. Take Week 17. In a 42-10 drubbing of the New York Jets, Maye nearly threw a perfect game with 256 yards and five touchdowns on 19-of-21 passing.

One of his best plays was a 31-yard hookup with Stefon Diggs on a scramble drill.

Diggs mosses the ball atop the helmet of Qwan’tez Stiggers.

To all of us, this is the sort of magic that foreshadows greatness.

Inside the film room, however, Maye received no flowers — only scorn — because this play was designed to be a quick pass. He’s got two receivers to the left, two to the right. All four options run five yards and turn for the ball. It’s Maye’s job to pick the correct side of the field pre-snap and spit the ball out on time.

On this play, he picked the wrong side and was forced to improvise.

“Now, he’s running for his life when he necessarily doesn’t have to,” Grant explains. “He makes a wild play and the whole world is like ‘MVP!’ Me and McDaniels are talking to each other on the headset: ‘What the hell is this guy doing?’ So it’s little things like that where you can teach him, ‘Why did you pick that side as opposed to this side? And the reason you’re running for your life is because we didn’t execute pre-snap.’”

All season, Grant panned a magnifying glass over footwork, pocket movement, ball placement, all minute nuances to Maye’s game to push him. Bad shoulder or not, Seattle exposed a hole in Maye’s game. Mic’d up safety Julian Love was caught on the sideline describing Maye as a typical young quarterback who takes an extra split-second to make sure his receiver’s open before throwing the ball — unlike Matthew Stafford.

All parties know there’s another level to reach this offseason.

“He’s focused on being the best version of himself,” Grant says, “and competing with himself as opposed to competing with other teams around the league. … Chasing perfection. The chase is what he’s bought into.”

Grant’s the man to accelerate this chase, too.

To other coaches around the NFL, he’s somewhat of a mystery man on a meteoric rise.

This is a dream opportunity in Foxborough, one that could lead to a head-coaching job in the future.

Dig into his roots and you can see why. Grant’s rise is strikingly similar to Joe Burrow’s right-hand man in Cincinnati: Dan Pitcher. Neither played pro quarterback. Neither even played Division I football. But their ultra-humble roots help them connect with prodigies at the position. A Connecticut native, Grant played football at Manchester (Conn.) High School but was never a big-time recruit. He didn’t hit his growth spurt until his junior year of high school. Grant, a receiver, stood only 5 feet, 8 inches tall.

Friends received offer after offer. Grant was forgotten.

“I was a tiny kid,” he says. “I just realized complaining about things doesn’t get anything done. Dominating the hand you’re dealt and playing the cards you’re dealt is ultimately what’s going to get you to where you want.”

He still remembers the day everything clicked.

He was present in the school’s auditorium when one of his best friends signed a letter of intent to play at the University of Maryland and another signed to play at Boston College. Grant cheered them on… and Grant also had zero clue where he was heading to college. So, right then, he made a vow to earn a college football scholarship. By any means.

His only option was to attended a prep school, physically develop as a wide receiver and hope a D-I or D-II coach out there discovered him.

That’s when Grant headed to East Coast Prep School in Great Barrington.

It was no joy ride.

Subscribe now

Ten boys crammed into one cabin with two bathrooms. They didn’t have hot water or phones. Kids were shut off from the outside world until the opening week of that football season. They did, however, have bed bugs. So many bed bugs that’d eat him alive. Red markings clustered all the way up his neck.

It got so bad that Grant started studying up on bed bugs online. (“I wanted to know what the hell was happening.”) He learned that these parasitic insects that feed on blood are incredibly smart. Bed bugs apparently know when you’re in Stage 4 sleep, the deepest state of non-REM sleep, and crawl on you to bite your neck, wrist, ankles. When they sense you’re about to wake up, they scurry back into little cuts in the bed.

The location of this school in mountainous Berkshires of Western Massachusetts made their cabins a hotbed for these annoying creatures. The school served as a day camp for kids and they were essentially renting it out for a semester.

When Mom finally saw Grant that first game of the season, she nearly pulled Grant right out of the prep school. This was absurd.

Grant refused. Grant needed to stay. He had no clue destiny awaited 230 miles east one day. Simply, Grant wanted all of this to become part of his story. One day, he’d be able to tell people what he was willing to put himself through.

At heart, he loved the experience. The school consisted of a bunch of pent-up 17- and 18-year-old boys “filled with testosterone” who weren’t allowed to leave campus. When the lights went out at 10 p.m. — and coaches headed to the other side of campus — they always found new ways to raise cain on-site. Marathon games of “Man Hunt” were common. They’d jump off roofs, get into fights, wrestle, create all sorts of crazy new games.

It’s not easy to go several months without seeing a female. Those bed bugs were a pain. And the pressure of this season serving as a last chance in the sport heightened pressure for all. So these boys becoming men figured they’d make the best of it.

“It was probably the most fun time of my life,” Grant says, “because we were 17 with no parents and playing football during the day and acting a fool at night.”

Grant knew both of his parents took out loans to pay for his tuition. They sacrificed thousands of dollars. He told his father that if they could get him through prep school, he’d take care of the rest. Neither Mom nor Dad would need to pay a dime of college tuition.

One set of eyes was all Grant needed to change everyone’s life.

That fall, he caught 20 passes for 511 yards with four touchdowns, good for a 25.6 average per catch that did grab the attention of a man named Bob Chesney. On-hand to scout East Coast Prep’s game vs. Bridgton Academy, the D-II Assumption College coach couldn’t take his eyes off No. 82. This was no SEC goliath — Grant needed to pay for his own cleats and gloves. But, again, he maximized every day. “He ended up with us,” Chesney told ESPN, “and was an unstoppable force out on the field.”

Grant set those receiving records, led Assumption to an 38-11 record and Chesney became the head coach at Holy Cross.

When Grant’s NFL career ran dry, Chesney had a quality control position ready for him.

Chesney went 44-21 at Holy Cross, then 12-2 at James Madison before being named the head coach at UCLA last December.

Things worked out for Grant, too.

In Cleveland, another coach saw something special in his work ethic: Vrabel.

He traces it all back to his attitude in those Massachusetts backwoods.

“I went to prep school with a purpose,” he says. “I was there for a reason. Some kids got in trouble, some kids got kicked out, some kids just fooled around and then I was just determined.”

“Coming from that to this. I can’t imagine coming in here pissed off or not appreciating what’s in front of us.”

Now, he’s the preeminent voice in Drake Maye’s ear.

Grant’s name wasn’t on a Super Bowl marquee. Nor was he embarrassed in front of 125 million. This sport’s beaten him down in other ways. Grant can relate to everything Maye’s going through this offseason.

In Cleveland, Grant had his hands on all positions as a QC (2020- ’21) and offensive assistant/quarterbacks coach (2023- ’24), so he enjoys popping into all position rooms. His receiver background came in handy discussing route concepts with Diggs, Mack Hollins and the Patriots pass catchers. He’d listen to how they like to run certain routes and apply it to his work with the QBs. He talks to running backs about protections and tight ends about specific plays throughout the course of a week.

This is what stands out to Joshua Dobbs, the Patriots’ No. 2 QB who has played for nearly a third of the league.

Also, New England’s offense is much more complex than the mainstream playbook. McDaniels does not merely instruct quarterbacks to follow a basic 1-to-2-to-3-to-4 progression. Maye must thoroughly read coverages in the blink of an eye. The Patriots choose the hard way because they believe the hard way is built to last long term.

If McDaniels is the brainiac devising those intricate gameplans, Grant is the one who helps quarterbacks digest everything in Layman’s terms.

“He is a conveyor of information,” says Dobbs. “Obviously, he’s in the staff meetings and the gameplan meetings. We have him and Josh both in our room, and Ashton does a great job of explaining it in a simple way so we can go out and execute it. Sometimes, it can be a little gibberish-y when it first gets installed. He does a great job of simplifying it to us quarterbacks so we can play football.”

Most importantly, players respect his rise at a deep level.

They know the 17-year-old sleeping with parasites is now a 30-year-old pouring in an obscene number of hours to put them in the best possible position to succeed.

“A lot of respect,” Dobbs says. “He’s gotten it out of the mud. His path to the NFL — and where he is today — he’s done a really good job of maximizing his opportunities. That’ll lead to a very exciting career for him.”

One year in, he’s figuring out what triggers Maye. He knows this is a kid who famously grew up sparring with three older brothers. Grant’s starting to wonder if being the runt of a litter is a prerequisite to starting at quarterback in the pros. When the firstborn son makes varsity, your parents throw a party. By the time the third or fourth son makes the team, it’s expected. That’s the best way he can describe Maye’s mindset. When he officially broke the Patriots record for completion percentage, when his 72 percent shattered Tom Brady’s 68.9 percent in ’07, Maye hardly reacted.

Grant tries to hype him up… to no avail. He even brought up doing something in pregame like Brady with the whole “Let’s go!!” fist pump. It’s not in the young passer’s personality.

“Drake’s like, ‘I’m going to come out and I’m going to run to the goal line and take a snap from the center,’” says Grant.

By season’s end, the coach figured out which buttons to push. Ahead of Super Bowl LX, he told Maye that 48 of 58 prognosticators at ESPN picked Seattle to beat the Patriots. That got the juices flowing. That seemed to piss him off just the right amount.

Of course, those 48 analysts were proven correct.

The Patriots were shellacked.

Back to square one they go.

But everyone can wipe those tears away now. Everyone in Foxborough must realize the championship window is wide open. GM Eliot Wolf and Vrabel have a golden opportunity to get this team right back to the Super Bowl. Trading for a No. 1 wideout is realistic. Multiple new starters on the O-Line would help, too. The Patriots could — and should — make noise in free agency next week. Patrick Mahomes, Joe Burrow, Josh Allen and Lamar Jackson all return with a vengeance.

There’s no guarantee Drake Maye gets back to this game. Ask Marino. Ask Hall of Famers who never sniffed the game like Dan Fouts and Warren Moon.

One major reason to be bullish on these 2026 Patriots won’t be discussed at all as the transactions fly.

It’s Ashton Grant. It’s all those hours away from 60 minutes on a Sunday he’ll exhaust to find Maye’s next level and get him a shot at redemption. If he does? All high school players waking up to red welts all over their body instead of NIL fortunes should take notice.

Share

Subscribe now

Related:

• PATRIOT REIGN? How Mike Vrabel and Drake Maye can restart a dynasty of their own

• There’s something about Drake

• BUILT TO LEAD: The Arduous Rise of Cincinnati Bengals OC Dan Pitcher

SAN FRANCISCO — He threw an interception and he was pissed. Ty Okada needed to make this defender pay on the sideline.

A high school quarterback at East Ridge (Minn.) High School, Okada changed a fade route to fade-stop but his receiver must not have received the signal. The QB’s pass sailed directly into the hands of a defensive back for Woodbury, their chief rival. Immediately, Okada viewed that defender as prey.

One thought dominated his mind: I’m going to light this dude up.

He relished physicality. He had been a wrestler his entire life. With full force, Okada blasted his left shoulder through the Woodbury player.

Momentum helped the DB pop of for a split-second and then he collapsed back to the turf on East Ridge’s sideline. His eyes were closed. He stopped moving. Trainers needed to reach into the player’s mouth and pull out his tongue because he was choking on it.

“I knocked him out cold,” Okada says. “It was actually pretty scary.”

Soon enough, the player eventually woke up. Okada heard teammates gave him grief the rest of the year.

When it was time to sell his own football skills to prospective colleges, Okada put this interception onto his Hudl highlight reel. After all, quarterback wasn’t in his future. He was trying to get looks on defense. Maybe a school would be impressed by this collision. Maybe a coach out there would then like to hear about his background as an all-state wrestler in the state of Minnesota. Okada wanted to make one fact clear to schools: “I can hit and I’m not afraid to do it.”

Montana State invited him as a walk-on. He made the team.

The Seattle Seahawks invited him to camp as an undrafted free agent. He made the team again.

He’d love for those members of the “Legion of Boom” to see the play that made his existence in Super Bowl LX possible.

“Hopefully it would make ‘em proud.”

Both Seattle (60-to-1) and New England (80-to-1) started this season as long shots to win the Super Bowl. This is the first matchup since 1977 (the earliest preseason title odds existed, per Sports Odd History) that both teams had 60/1 odds or higher. Before today, the record was the 1981 game between San Francisco (50/1) and Cincinnati (60/1).

The only way a team pulls off the impossible is with impossible players.

For the Seahawks, look no further than the safety Okada and his good friend on the other side of the ball: wide receiver Jake Bobo. Both faced much steeper odds to even play pro football and became integral pieces on a championship roster. We always see guys buried on the depth chart put on the Superman cape in the Super Bowl. The last time these two teams met on this stage, each team had such a player: Jermaine Kearse (Seattle) and Malcom Butler (New England). Side note: My favorite scene here in San Francisco all week was Butler sipping a coffee at the hotel bar watching that 2014 Super Bowl on a TV above.

Bobo and Okada are ready if their own opportunity knocks.

Go Long is your home for longform in pro football.

We are completely independent. Thank you for your support.

Subscribe now

“More Bobo!”

“More Bobo!”

“More Bobo!”

Chad Morton, Seattle’s running backs coach in 2023, loved taunting the defense with those two words throughout OTA practices. Words that echoed. Bobo was a random Caucasian wide receiver destined to bounce around practice squads a couple years before finding a new profession. But he made play… after play… after play in practice.

“It started as less a compliment to me and more of a dig at the defense,” Bobo says. “Like, ‘You’re going to let the skinny white boy run around on you guys, dude?’ Chad is a very loud individual. I love him to death. Thankful for even coming up with that. But it was more of a shot at the defense than it was a compliment.”

Seattle’s veterans on defense got sick of being embarrassed. Bobo started to dread those calls for “More Bobo!” because they put a target on his back. (“I’m like, ‘Chad, you’re killing me! These guys are coming from my head now!’”) Into training camp, linebackers and defensive backs started to get their licks in. They’d aggressively punch at the ball after each catch. Bobo forced coaches to notice him and carved out a role as reserve wideout and core special teams player. In his team’s NFC Championship win over the Los Angeles Rams, he caught a 17-yard touchdown the first play after L.A. muffed a punt.

The route is straight out of a receiving textbook. Bobo cooks Cobie Durant on the post-corner.

If the New England Patriots do choose to prioritize Jaxon Smith-Njigba and others, he may get another 1-on-1 target in the red zone at Levi’s Stadium. The key to lasting in the NFL? “Self-awareness.” Bobo knows he is not fast. One point during our conversation, he points toward Rashid Shaheed and jokes that No. 22’s raw speed pisses him off. Shaheed hit 21.72 mph on an 87-yard touchdown this season, the third-fastest time for a wide receiver this season. Bobo will never burn cornerbacks with acceleration, but he can win with deceleration.

The 6-foot-4, 207-pounder out of UCLA has learned how to manipulate defenders with change of direction and stopping faster than his peers.

“How fast can you go from full speed to zero miles an hour?” Bobo says. “Repetition. Being able to contort your body. For me, being a taller guy, how quickly can I get my shoulders low to the guard and then be able to re-accelerate back out of that cut has been something that I’ve been able to do. It’s also easy for me to do because at my top speed I’m not moving that fast.”

Okada and Bobo have a ton in common beyond being a couple of rare “white guys” at their positions. Both are engaged to be married. Both love golf, but admit they’re terrible at the sport. Both are pinching themselves that they’re in the Super Bowl considering how their football lives began. Neither fantasized about being the NFL.

Bobo grew up in North Andover, Mass. — Patriots Country — on a boarding school campus. His mother was a teacher. His father worked in sales. He had free range over the whole campus. Football, basketball, hockey, lacrosse, Bobo played every sport possible. Exposure he now sees helped him grow into an all-around athlete.

When Bobo realized he couldn’t throw a football longer than 35 yards into high school, he switched from quarterback to receiver. There are strong genes, too. Bobo’s father, Mike, played college football at Dartmouth as a wide receiver and won an Ivy League title. His grandfather, Keith, played QB at SMU and was a 12^th round selection by the Dallas Cowboys in 1974.

“Once I moved to receiver full-time in high school, I fell in love with it,” Bobo says. “I fell in love with catching the ball and making plays and probably was a little more flashy in high school than my father would’ve liked.”

Bobo’s dream was simply to play college football. This NFL stuff? “Icing on the cake.”

Meanwhile, Okada’s roots are in a different sport. He started wrestling in second grade and became one of the top grapplers in the state of Minnesota. He owns several high school state titles.

The mano-a-mano nature of the sport appealed to him.

“Wrestlers in general,” Okada says, “I have the utmost respect for, because it’s a lot of hard work and dedication and it’s a sport that’s not necessarily going to love you back. You have to be so dedicated to this process and it’s just you out there. The mentality and approach you must have in that sport is second to none. I carry that work ethic that I learned from wrestling with me in life.”

In other sports, you can rely on a teammate in a jam. Or there’s some form of trickeration, deception.

Okada finds wrestling “beautiful” because you can flat-out outwork an opponent.

“Who wants it more?” he asks.

Off to Montana State, going full “Rudy” as a walk-on, he immediately saw parallels between the two sports. At first, Okada played cornerback. Looking back, he sees how much this helped his footwork today in the pros. He redshirted. He earned a role on special teams. He clawed his way to a starting spot through six long years at Montana State. In ’22, his 72 tackles (six TFL), interception and nine pass breakups were enough to crack the Seahawks’ 90-man roster. Like Bobo, he did enough to eventually make the 53.

It’s taken Okada longer to see the field. When injuries struck this season, he was ready.

The 5-foot-11, 193-pound safety started 11 games for the Seahawks this season with 65 tackles (three for loss), one pick and one fumble recovery. That third-and-17 interception in Washington was a gem, too. Okada leaps high for Jayden Daniels’ desperation heave and taps both feet down on the sideline.

He took a yeomen’s approach to those early practices as a nobody at Montana State and Seattle, and it paid off.

“Hey, they didn't build Rome in a day,” Okada says. “You're not going to be able to make the roster just like on Day 1 by coming out and making a play.’ It's going to be my habits built up over time, being consistent, diving into the playbook, asking coaches questions, being methodical in how I approach each and every single day.

“Tom Brady talked about this a lot during his time in Michigan,” Okada says. “He was like, ‘Hey, you might only have one rep at practice, and then that one rep might turn into two. But it’s not going to turn into two unless you do the absolute best with that one rep.’ I’m just going to work while I wait. All I’ve ever needed was an opportunity.”

Okada enjoys ice fishing in his home state and spending time with friends, but that’s about it.

Bobo plays a little pickle ball with his fiancé. He enjoyed Yellowstone and is thinking about getting into a new show, but no. Bobo does not have any hobbies. He calls football his “hobby.” Nobody sees what athletes are up to when cameras aren’t around, he adds. Bobo prides himself on the hours of sweat this profession demands.

“This game consumes your life,” Bobo says. “It’s how it works.”

After the Super Bowl, his plan is to take the first flight to Sarasota, Fla., where he’ll relax for three days and then start training for next season at IMG Academy.

Okada isn’t going to waste any time before working out, either.

First, there’s one more football game to play.

Heads on a swivel, New England.

Share

Subscribe now

Super Bowl LX links:

• ‘Tough son of a bitch:’ The Lessons of Sam Darnold

• Predictions!

• Pod: SI’s Conor Orr on Super Bowl LX & Ahman Green on the Green Bay Packers

• Q&A: Seahawks QB coach Andrew Janocko on the ‘resiliency’ of Sam Darnold

• Real Football: Seattle Seahawks-New England Patriots Super Bowl LX Preview!

• Carlton Davis: ‘I feel like it’s going to be another surprise win’

• Southern Comfort: Patriots’ gator-huntin’ rookie Will Campbell is 1 of 1

• ‘It’s incredible:’ Super Bowl LX’s roots are in Ron Wolf’s Green Bay Packers

• Pod: Stevie Johnson has a PSA for Buffalo Bills WR Keon Coleman!

• Best Super Bowl storyline? Terrell Williams is cancer-free, back on the Patriots sideline

• 1 on 1: Seahawks GM John Schneider on Packers roots, Sam Darnold, building a winner (again)

Hang out with Go Long readers around the world during the game:

Go Long subscribers can access this longform piece — and all Super Bowl LX coverage — in full.

Our aim is to take you behind the curtain.

Share Go Long

SAN FRANCISCO — Worlds collided for Tom Brady. The all-time great is a walking conflict of interest as both minority owner of the Las Vegas Raiders and Fox’s top color commentator on NFL games. As the Seattle Seahawks polished off a 31-27 win over the Los Angeles Rams in the NFC Championship, it was time for play-by-play man Kevin Burkhardt and Brady to rhapsodize on Sam Darnold’s dazzling performance.

Burkhardt referenced everything Darnold has endured. “People doubting you,” he said. “You won 14 games with Minnesota and they got rid of you.”

Brady chimed in. “He’s been a gunslinger,” the all-timer said. “He’s more explosive than surgical. Led the league in turnovers, but today absolutely flawless in his decision-making. So accurate.” The pitch of his voice then changed for effect. “There’s nothing better than playing your biggest game in the biggest moment of your life.”

With that, highlights started to loop on the screen. But honestly? Fox’s production team should’ve instead instructed a cameraman to slowly zoom into Brady’s face inside the broadcasting booth to the tune of that cheeky, circus-like Curb Your Enthusiasm theme song.

Last offseason — as the Raiders’ end-all, be-all quarterback authority — Brady wanted nothing to do with Darnold.

Raiders coaches got a kick out of seeing how stories were spun.

The man with the final say at quarterback in Vegas wasn’t the head coach or the general manager. Rather, the best to ever play the position. Initially, Brady tried to convince Matthew Stafford to play in Vegas. Much like his swing at Ben Johnson, this dalliance failed. Conversation then shifted to Geno Smith and Sam Darnold as potential answers. Head coach Pete Carroll coached Smith in Seattle but, one coach says the “consensus” amongst the Raiders coaching staff was to ink Darnold because he’s six years younger.

Brady could not get on board. Brady had the muscle.

Vegas traded for Smith.

“The funny thing to me is they say, ‘Well, Geno was Pete’s handpicked guy,’ but that’s not true,” says one coach from that Raiders’ staff. “That was Tom’s guy because he didn’t want Sam Darnold. That was really smart by Tom because it’s great cover. Everyone will just assume that Geno was Pete’s guy.’”

If the New York Jets give up on you as a quarterback, consider it a badge of honor. This franchise is beyond parody and warrants zero respect until further notice. But when the man with seven rings doesn’t believe, the scar could cut deep. Of course, this is also the theme of Sam Darnold’s NFL life. He’s forever the quarterback left for dead.

Trashed as an abject bust in New York.

Recycled by Carolina.

Rehabilitated in San Francisco.

Revitalized in Minnesota.

The Vikings quit Darnold cold turkey, opting for J.J. McCarthy and the coveted rookie contract window over what their eyeballs showed them all season long and John Schneider was much obliged. The Seahawks GM heard Darnold wanted to get back to the West Coast, loved his gunslingin’ DNA and signed the San Clemente, Calif., native to a reasonable deal worth $33.5 million per year. Now, Darnold has a chance to complete the most insane quarterback trajectory we’ve seen since Kurt Warner went from stocking shelves at a Hy-Vee grocery store in Iowa to hoisting the Lombardi Trophy 26 years ago.

Ahead of Super Bowl LX, Go Long spoke to coaches and players who’ve been with Darnold day-in and day-out from USC to today.

The lessons are endless.

Teammates do not like Sam Darnold, no, they profess their eternal love for the guy. I thought we’d need to gently tiptoe into such a fragile topic with current Vikings players. Uh, no. They’ve got no problem describing him as the one who got away, optics be damned. Players rarely ever gush over a quarterback to such extremes. They had Sam. They lost Sam. They want to make their affection abundantly clear to the world.

His greatest weapon was camouflaged and bastardized all these years. Surrounded by slop, Darnold was typecast as reckless. Surrounded by competence, he’s now fearless. Truth is, he always had the guts to attempt throws peers consider impossible. Throws that win championships. Harrison Smith makes an excellent point. The Vikings’ immortal safety doesn’t think his former quarterback outright reinvented himself, reminding everyone this was a 2018 third overall pick who already possessed a rocket arm. Darnold’s existence in this year’s Super Bowl, to him, more so serves as a giant mirror to the rest of the football world — “a reflection of us.”

And if anyone in this sport could declare themselves a victim, it’s the one hurled into a lake of fire that draft night. Publicly, we never hear Darnold lament his hideous circumstances. Privately, he’s also the same guy. He never bitched about ownership or coaching or his supporting cast or the media to teammates.

If Darnold is the victor Sunday night, a tornado of emotions will reverberate through all cities he once called home.

Players in Minnesota will wonder What if? Players will see Darnold atop that dais and know that quarterback should be in purple, not lime. Bitterness will not last long, thought. Approximately 3.5 seconds later, they’ll be thrilled for that quarterback with the perfect hair and unwavering smile.

Not too long ago, they were the ones hoisting Darnold on their shoulders inside the Vikings locker room.

Work backwards. Signs were there all along.

Go Long is your home for longform in pro football.

Thank you for supporting independent journalism.

Subscribe now

This was a satisfying win. All games vs. the Green Bay Packers matter a little bit more. But in the moment? Harrison Smith couldn’t help but wonder why they were going bananas over a regular-season win. After finishing up an interview on the field, Darnold trotted into the home locker room, removed his ball cap and was immediately mobbed. Teammates sprayed him with their water bottles and lifted Darnold atop their shoulders as if he were a conquering hero.

Darnold soaked it all in. He whipped his hat, hollered and danced to their impromptu rendition of 50 Cent’s “Many Men.”

This 32-second moment in time encapsulated exactly what Darnold meant to teammates.

“Honestly, we shouldn’t have gone that crazy,” Smith says. “But it wasn’t because we won. It was just because everyone was happy for Sam and the journey he’d been on. He’s not there to say, ‘I got screwed at whatever organization I was in. I never had a chance.’ He just came in, went to work, mixed it up with all the guys. Everybody had a lot of faith in him. He was very well-liked. We wanted to celebrate Sam. It was all happiness for him.”

Then, poof, it was over. The Vikings were smacked by the Detroit Lions (31-9) in a battle for the NFC’s No. 1 seed, then by the Los Angeles Rams (27-9) in the wild card. Twin beatdowns that compelled the Vikings brass to revert back to their original plan of building around McCarthy and his rookie deal. Minnesota led the NFL in total cash spending at approximately $343 million, splurging on the likes of Will Fries and Ryan Kelly on the offensive line and Jonathan Allen and Javon Hargrave on the defensive line. In retrospect, head coach Kevin O’Connell and (since fired) GM Kwesi Adofo-Mensah should’ve valued those 32 spontaneous seconds more than any meticulously crafted roster construction, any fantasies of a “Nine” takeover and any eyesore sacks from those late-season floggings. I heard that O’Connell even gave Schneider very, very positive reviews on the QB ahead of the signing. Probably not something a coach does if he’s genuinely interested in retaining that QB.

“It wasn’t just Sam not performing in those games,” Smith says. “The team didn’t play well in those games and he didn’t get much help.”

Radio Row can turn into a sewage plant. ‘Tis the season for Can’t Win The Big One narratives. At times, the label absolutely applies. Smith knows there are some quarterbacks who do get skittish in pressure-packed games.

But he’s adamant — that was never the case with Darnold. Which is why the safety loved seeing his ex-teammate shine vs. the Rams in the NFC title game. He rips all backlash Darnold received as “lazy.”

“The reality is, you can learn from experience,” he says. “You don’t have to just fail all the time. Everyone acts like you’re either the worst or you’re the GOAT. All the dumbass shit that people just come up with. They haven’t spent their professional life committed to improving — that’s going to take failure, that’s going to take times where you get beat. And then people drag you because you aren’t the greatest every play. Whoever everyone says is the GOAT — Tom Brady, Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods — they all get beat and they all can get embarrassed. It’s just we don’t watch those clips.”

Smith’s voice speeds up with each thought.

We chatted for an hour. He’s most passionate on this topic.

“They were the best because they found ways to improve and use those as fuel. But that’s not sexy. That’s not sexy for us to watch a highlight video or a lowlight video of people just losing and then how they improve upon it. And I think Sam is a good example of a guy that just goes to work and he doesn’t make too big of a deal of anything.”

As linebacker Blake Cashman leapt in that post-Packers mosh pit, part of him did fear the Vikings would lose Darnold in free agency. But only because he figured the Vikings wouldn’t be able to afford him. Cashman expected a 4,319-yards, 35-TD breakout season to vault Darnold into the top income bracket. Darnold was nearly perfect that evening against the Packers and this league is polluted with rancid quarterbacking. Brady himself has often decried the state of the position.

Surely, there was a team out there willing to hand Darnold a blank check.

Cashman has been tight with Darnold since their Jets days together. Their fiancés are friends. He wanted his pal to get paid. Oddly, the market was good. Not great.

“Obviously, I was a little sick to my stomach to see him leave because we were a great team,” Cashman says. “He played phenomenal. And the guys in our locker room, everyone’s thinking: ‘Why wouldn’t you run it back?’”

Players assumed Vikings management could feel what they felt: a quarterback endearing himself to everyone.

To them, a 14-3 season was only the beginning. Darnold was 27 years old. This Vikings franchise has been lost at sea for decades. They’ve tried everything: high draft picks (Culpepper, Ponder, Bridgewater), a hated rival (Favre), a pricey trade (Bradford), a pricey free agent (Cousins), aging talents (Cunningham, George), journeymen (Keenum, Cassel, Frerotte). Thus, the 2025 Vikings were basically a 90s rom com gone wrong. After a million failed dates, The One waltzed right in their building and O’Connell bailed.

Yes, the plan was for Darnold to bridge this team into McCarthy, their 10th overall investment. But plans can change. Or, if you are going to exhaust a full season breaking in McCarthy, maybe you don’t spend more money than any other team in the NFL. Lean into a rebuild. See what he’s got first. Instead, the Vikings represented two conflicting visions and scrapped their way to 9-8.

Cashman understands business is business. Darnold is also the 18^th-highest paid quarterback in the NFL. A new contract was manageable.

“If Sam would’ve been returning as our quarterback after the year he had with us,” the linebacker says, “everyone would’ve been happy. Guys loved him, not just as a player, but as a teammate and as well. So we were sad to see him go. We’re happy for him. Of course you think about all the what-ifs.

“We definitely missed him this year. I always tread lightly saying those things because we’ve got J.J. McCarthy, a young quarterback that’s going to take a lot of growth and he didn’t have those chances with his injury his rookie year. I respect J.J. and love the guy, too. But yeah, it would’ve been nice to have a talented veteran quarterback who had previous success with our team and KO.”

Through a magical month of December that 2024 season, players gassed up Darnold in the locker room. Told him he was putting up MVP numbers. All he’d do is credit everyone else. He was humble beyond their comprehension. “A guy,” Cashman adds, “that you love to have in your locker room.” This veteran who’s been through the fire himself understands playoff games are graded on a curve. But how much of a curve? Usually, there are themes to track. Sean McDermott’s defense repeatedly decomposed in January. No coach in NFL history has won more playoff games without a Super Bowl appearance, so Buffalo correctly moved on.

Darnold was sacked nine times and turned it over twice in his loss to L.A.

It was ugly. It was also the first playoff start of his career.

“Teams move on faster from players and coaches and maybe even people in the front office quicker than they should,” Cashman says, “because they think the grass is greener on the other side. But it’s not always that case. And I think teams like us sometimes pay the price for that.”

Naturally, several Vikings players have been rooting for Darnold to succeed from afar. After Seattle blanked Minnesota 26-0 at Lumen Field on Nov. 30, Cashman couldn’t wait to give his friend a bear hug and tell him to win the whole damn thing.

“We all love him. We all respect him,” Cashman says. “And for all the outside noise and all the BS he’s had to deal with, I would love for him to have a Super Bowl win and a Super Bowl MVP to be like, ‘Hey, look, I did the damn thing.’ Nobody’s more deserving than him for that.”

Adds Smith: “It’s good to see him kind of quiet those narratives and I hope it continues.”

These two are far from alone. Elsewhere during Super Bowl Week, star wideout Justin Jefferson was asked by Nick Wright on FS1’s First Thing’s First if he’s still the best receiver in football. “If I don’t have an elite QB throwing me the ball the entire year,” Jefferson said, “then it’s a little bit difficult to be in those conversations.” Running back Aaron Jones told NFL Threads, “When you got a group of guys behind a QB, and he wants to stay, I think you should try to make it work.”

Nobody needs to look too far to see when the world wrote the book on Darnold.

One reason Tom Brady wanted nothing to do Darnold was probably that he was on-hand for the worst night of the QB’s football life. Amid an 11-of-32, four-interception fiasco against those Patriots on Monday Night Football in 2019, ESPN cameras infamously caught Darnold saying he’s “seeing ghosts.”

Uproar was instant. Darnold appeared broken. One primetime game became synonymous with his Jets career.

Nightmare performances this bad, this public can destroy young quarterbacks for good. Nor does Darnold say much of anything during his press conferences. Judging by his shaky play the rest of his Jets career, it was fair to infer one 33-0 drubbing to the Patriots permanently poisoned his psyche.

Cashman was on that ‘19 Jets team. Cashman was with Darnold through all dark days and insists the backlash didn’t affect Darnold. At all.

He kept working. Cashman calls it a “killer mindset.”

“He’s got a strong mental,” Cashman says. “He’s not going to let any outside noise or one bad game shake that self-confidence. When a person carries that kind of conviction, it doesn’t matter what the world will say. It’s not going to disrupt and shake your mindset, confidence, all that.”

“He’s going to do everything in his power to be the best player, best quarterback, and best teammate possible. That’s the type of guy he is.”

One soundbyte that never made it’s way to televisions at home more accurately defined Darnold.

Toward the end of those doomed Jets days, Cashman recalls Darnold suffering a vicious rib/chest injury. They were getting blasted. Another season was cooked. Fresh out of the blue tent, he overheard the Jets’ team doctor and trainers telling Darnold he cannot return to the game. Darnold refused.

“I remember thinking ‘This guy’s a tough son of a bitch,’” Cashman says. “He was like, ‘No F that. I’m staying in. I’m finishing this game.’ That’s the type of toughness and grit your team wants to see. Every coach, every player wants to have a guy like that around. That’s a guy that you want in your foxhole.”

Darnold started 38 games for the Jets. He had ample opportunity to show more in three seasons.

This is also a strange place. Ownership tends to make everything worse here.

As Cashman bluntly asks: “When was the last time a young quarterback had success there?” Post-Darnold, the team’s No. 2 overall pick in 2021 (Zach Wilson) flopped miserably. It’s hard to see the cycle ending any time soon.

Darnold was shipped to Carolina for second- and fourth-round picks. Spurts of hope gave way to injuries, turnovers, more organizational turmoil.

One year as a backup in San Francisco with Kyle Shanahan then prepared him for his Vikings shot.

The only way a quarterback so effortlessly slips through the cracks is if the essence of the man is never fully appreciated. Seahawks GM John Schneider told us what he loves most about Darnold is that he’s no cookie-cutter product straight off the 7-on-7 assembly line. His parents didn’t send him off to football camps. He played tight end and linebacker before switching to QB in high school. After interceptions, Darnold doesn’t throw temper tantrums. He’s a “three-point shooter” who continues to hoist bombs from 25 feet. Schneider saw shades of Brett Favre from his scouting days in Green Bay.

To dig into these roots, I reached out to the man who recruited Darnold.

First, former USC head coach Clay Helton mentions his parents. Darnold’s mother was a middle school PE teacher. His father worked as a medical gas plumber for 30 years. Mike Darnold would wake up at 2:30 a.m., be home at 1 p.m., take a brief nap on the couch, play catch with his son in the yard as soon as he got home from school and then take Sam’s sister to club volleyball practice where he’d stay until 10 p.m. Eat, sleep, repeat. This week, Darnold cited his Dad as his hero.

Helton scored a commitment from Darnold between his junior and senior year at San Clemente (Calif.) High School. Most highly touted quarterbacks graduate early to start spring ball at school.

Not Darnold. An injury had sidelined him on the basketball court as a junior, and he was dying to play with his buddies as a senior. So one day, he called Helton to tell him he wanted to help his basketball team pursue a state title. At point guard, he led his team in points (14.9) and rebounds (8.5) through an undefeated league record.

“It always hit home to me how selfless he is,” Helton says. “He’s just about the moment and about other people around him and he loves being a part of a team.”

In college, Darnold lost a preseason camp battle to Max Browne, took the job the third game of the season and when USC lost to Utah in the final 16 seconds to fall to 1-3, Helton and Darnold walked off the field smiling to each other. They knew what was coming. USC won nine straight games, including the Rose Bowl.

“He’s always been unflappable,” Helton says, “always been the dude.

“He’s done everything with class, with character, and when things are going good? He celebrates others — the people around him,” Helton says. “And when things weren’t going good, he owned it. That’s what a grown man does. That’s what a pro does. He has not changed as a person.”

Subscribe now

The two stayed in touch through Darnold’s NFL hardships. Helton never saw his quarterback’s confidence dip.

Fearlessness defines Darnold’s game this 2025 season and fearlessness is what made Darnold one of the nation’s top passers at USC.

It’s nothing he says. Darnold doesn’t verbally call his shot before games. The best way Deontay Burnett — his No. 1 target at USC — can describe this swagger is how quickly the ball arrived at this hands out of a break. Two plays come to mind. One out route vs. Stanford. Burnett took this one to the house for a TD. And on a scramble drill, vs. Texas, Darnold threaded one ball in the back of the end zone vs. tight coverage.

If Darnold thinks you’re open, he’ll give you a chance. There’s zero hesitancy to his game. Remarkable considering virtually all first-rounders who bust with their first team become naturally scared of their own shadow. They’re terrified of the next blunder. And the next. And before they know it, they’re holding a clipboard the rest of their career. Darnold never coiled into this fetal position.

“He’s fearless,” Burnett says. “That’s just who he is. He’s never scared of the moment. He’s always trying to make a big play. A lot of people wrote him off because of how fearless he is. He’s just a gunslinger.

“Sam’s confidence is always out the roof. In his head? When he steps on that field? He can make any throw he wants to.”

Burnett lived it through USC’s Rose Bowl thriller against Penn State in 2016. USC trailed by 14 in the fourth quarter and stormed back to win, 52-49. That Darnold who threw for 453 yards and five touchdowns never disappeared. When the rest of the world redefined him as a bust, he refused to comply. He never lost his quick trigger.

“Sam’s confidence never wavers,” Burnett says. “It was always there. That’s who he is. He always just wanted to make a play and once you have that instilled in you, it’s hard to lose because that’s what kept him going — knowing that he could make these type of throws. And it just carried on to now. He has a good supporting cast around him.”

That’s the final lesson worth repeating. If Jets Life is quarterback hell, Seattle has been heaven.

Darnold has it all: a playcaller who mirrors his aggressiveness, an offensive line that gives him time, an elite wide receiver in Jaxon Smith-Njigba who won offensive player of the year and an organization that believes. Quarterbacks spent more time with their coaches than their wives and fiancés from August to January. Until Schneider’s trade, Seahawks QBs coach Andrew Janocko and Darnold didn’t even know each other. Not that it mattered. It took no time for these two to hit it off. Both possess the same dry sense of humor.

Quickly, the two found themselves laughing at the same dumb idiosyncrasies of life that go over peoples’ heads. Both love “The Office.”

Says Janocko: “There’s never a ‘that’s what she said’ that goes unnoticed in our room.”

Darnold and backup QB Drew Lock quote Michael Scott all the time. Even rookie Jalen Milroe is catching up fast. But recently, Janocko was stunned to hear Darnold has never watched Christmas Vacation. That’s the quarterback’s lone assignment after this whole Super Bowl thing. Janocko cannot understand how anyone goes through life without experiencing this movie.

On the field, he views Darnold’s resiliency as a source of inspiration for anyone in any profession.

Game to game, he lives it firsthand. After throwing two interceptions against the Rams in Week 16, Darnold showed no emotion and calmly led Seattle back from a 16-point deficit in the fourth quarter. If he makes a play, you’ll get a fist pump and little more. If he screws up, whatever. This isn’t a revenge tour. The two have not relitigated those Jets or Vikings days at all.

Janocko doesn’t get the sense that Darnold is out to prove anyone wrong in Santa Clara.

“I think honestly, he just wants to do things for his teammates,” Janocko says. “He wants the guys around him to succeed. And that’s one of the coolest things him. He drives the engine, but it’s to bring everybody else along too and wants to see their success.”

This is what Vikings players miss most. Darnold played for the right reasons.

The team’s plan to build around a rookie quarterback contract might’ve been logical, but everything about Darnold’s career arc is illogical. O’Connell stumbled upon a franchise guy by accident and could’ve had him at a discounted rate compared to what others at the position make. Even the sport’s best quarterback gurus can miss. Nobody’s in O’Connell’s position without an ego. But now the 40-year-old head coach must decide exactly how much he believes in McCarthy.

All while watching that quarterback his players lifted into the air compete for a ring.

This is a mentally draining position. When Harrison Smith hears quarterbacks discussing plays in the locker room, some are a paragraph long. (“That’s getting out of hand.”) The list of passers who can handle those demands on top of being tarred ‘n feathered through “Seeing Ghosts” calamities is short. Darnold was always more fearless than anyone realized.

En route to Levi’s Stadium, he leaves a trail of regret in his path.

All teams have several weeks to chart a plan.

Tom Brady and the Raiders hope Darnold’s coordinator in Seattle, Klint Kubiak, can work magic with likely No. 1 pick Fernando Mendoza. Bare minimum, O’Connell and the Vikings must find real competition for McCarthy. Dream scenario, they’re able to work some midnight inception on Mike Brown and convince the Bengals owner to trade them Joe Burrow for a bundle of first-round picks. Carolina must decide whether or not Bryce Young is worth a long-term contract extension. The Jets are forever Charlie Kelly in the mailroom with a cigarette hanging from their mouth.

For now, they’ll watch Darnold compete against the New England Patriots in Super Bowl LX. The viewing experience may be painful, but even Brady must admit it’s impossible not to pull for this quarterback on a human level. Kids across America can learn something from Darnold’s last eight seasons.

If Seattle wins? Those Vikings players will undoubtedly wish they’re the ones with a chance to douse their quarterback in champagne. FOMO will rage.

But above all, players will beam with joy.

“When you live the right way,” Cashman says, “do the right things, and you’re a great person, great teammate, great leader, that patience and all that continuous work ethic, you’re going to be rewarded for that.

“That’s exactly what’s happening right now.”

Share

Subscribe now

Give a gift subscription

Super Bowl LX links:

• ‘Tough son of a bitch:’ The Lessons of Sam Darnold

• Rare Hawks: Why Ty Okada & Jake Bobo embody the Seattle Seahawks

• Predictions!

• Pod: SI’s Conor Orr on Super Bowl LX & Ahman Green on the Green Bay Packers

• Q&A: Seahawks QB coach Andrew Janocko on the ‘resiliency’ of Sam Darnold

• Real Football: Seattle Seahawks-New England Patriots Super Bowl LX Preview!

• Carlton Davis: ‘I feel like it’s going to be another surprise win’

• Southern Comfort: Patriots’ gator-huntin’ rookie Will Campbell is 1 of 1

• ‘It’s incredible:’ Super Bowl LX’s roots are in Ron Wolf’s Green Bay Packers

• Pod: Stevie Johnson has a PSA for Buffalo Bills WR Keon Coleman!

• Best Super Bowl storyline? Terrell Williams is cancer-free, back on the Patriots sideline

• 1 on 1: Seahawks GM John Schneider on Packers roots, Sam Darnold, building a winner (again)

SANTA CLARA, Calif. — He hates cats. Back in high school, at his buddy’s house, a cat jumped out of nowhere in the pitch black and bit him in the leg. It was the middle of the night and Will Campbell didn’t exactly enjoy the feeling of those fangs in his flesh, so he booted the feline as far as he could.

He isn’t quite sure if the cat’s still alive.

“Hopefully not,” he says.

He has never watched a soccer game in his life. He has hunted for alligator with cast members from “Swamp People.” Whenever Campbell got out of line as a kid, his father didn’t hesitate to unloop the belt. (“If that’s what needed to be done.”) He’s thankful for that corporal punishment. Campbell assures he deserved it.

Of course, the last time America heard from this Monroe, La., native in the slow, southern drawl was on draft night last spring. Through tears, Campbell vowed to “fight and die” to protect Drake Maye. Now, he’ll get that chance with the entire world watching. When the New England Patriots face the Seattle Seahawks at Levi’s Stadium, the most important player on the field is this 6-foot-6, 319-pound left tackle.

A steep challenge.

But there’s also no one in this year’s title game quite like Will Campbell.

Go Long is your home for longform in pro football.

Subscribe now

In most ways, he’s your typical rookie lineman. Campbell just turned 22 years old in January. These banshees howling off the edge have been a completely different beast. When injury adversity struck, he could’ve gone into a shell. On Nov. 23, Campbell was carted off the field with an MCL injury. Towel draped over his head, he looked like a man in total shock. Campbell landed on IR, took five weeks off and returned in Week 18. Against the Chargers and Texans, he was responsible for four sacks and 10 pressures. But in the team’s AFC Championship win over Denver — facing star Nick Bonitto — Campbell surrendered only one pressure. Campbell finally felt like himself again.

The kid who tore off his shirt to chug a beer at a Boston Celtics game is not sculpted like offensive tackles past drafted in the top 5. The great debate before the draft was whether he possessed long enough arms to hold up in the pros. They measured at 32 5/8 inches. His hands are 9 ½ inches. Less than ideal. New England needs Campbell to have the game of his life against the Seahawks’ carnivores.

The Patriots can draw hope in that Campbell — to his core — is anything but typical.

His father Brian “Bull” Campbell played college football at East Texas State University. A farmer, he’s been telling his boys for years that you’re either the “hammer” or “nail” in life. Words that Will took to heart. He played pickup ball with neighborhood kids across his street who were five years older. A running back in his early days, Campbell describes himself as a Jerome Bettis Jr. at running back through elementary school. He towered over peers. Whenever the family traveled to baseball tournaments, opposing parents would complain that Campbell was too old. Mom started bringing his birth certificate in her purse as proof.

On the football field? Peers attempted to tackle Campbell at their own risk.

“I was just bigger and faster than everybody,” he says. “I really was just trying to kill kids. And we had a really good team. I think from my elementary team, we had like seven dudes that eventually signed D-I — from a small town. Which was pretty cool. We beat up on some people basically every year.”

Dad was a tough, blue-collar guy. Dad’s Dad was in the Army. So, yes, this home was built on structure, discipline, rules. (“He didn’t play.”) Whenever Campbell got into trouble at school, he knew trouble was waiting for him at home.

“I mean, he wasn’t just going to be like, ‘It’s OK, buddy. Don’t do it again,’” Campbell says. “He was going to have to make sure I didn’t do it again.”

Granted, this is a different generation. I was spanked back in the day but tell Campbell that I do not plan on doing the same with our three kids. Times change. It’s 2026.

He jumps in.

“You probably should spank them,” he says. “I’m going to spank my kids.”

10-4, Will.

Something about this upbringing worked. That big kid continued to grow… and eat… and grow into a five-star recruit at Neville High School. All along, Will Campbell has always been the undisputed alpha male in the room. Stories are in high supply. Neville’s offensive line coach, Chad Johnson, recalls the time he wanted his crew to hop on Google Classroom to vote on a group nickname. A handful of options were on the table: “Swamp Dogs,” “Bad Boys,” etc. But the moment “Forsythe Freak Nasties” was presented as an option, Campbell spoke up. Neville is located on Forsythe Avenue in Monroe. Campbell sent a group text to politely inform everybody that there would be no vote. “It’s fucking Forsythe Freak Nasties,” he told them. “End of discussion.”

That was 2019. The nickname, “FFN” for short, has stuck ever since.

He backed up the name, too. As a senior — his LSU future secured — Campbell suffered a throbbing groin injury. Only rest would make this feel better. Coaches instructed Campbell to skip the second round of the playoffs, hoping a little time off would help him heal up in time for the state championship. Campbell was worried. “You think we’re going to be OK?” he asked. Johnson assured him they’d find a way to get the win.

Campbell could barely run on the injury.

“It was bothering him,” Johnson adds. “It’s a nagging where it just doesn’t ever feel better. The only way to get it better is to rest up.”

From the sidelines, Campbell watched on in his joggers and he didn’t like what he saw. The game was too close for comfort.

Neville trailed by a point at halftime. Enough was enough.

Up in the press box, Johnson heard on the headset that Campbell had sprinted off toward the team bus. Unbeknownst to him, the 12th-grader brought his equipment with him just in case. Somehow, Campbell convinced the team doctor he could play. “Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Johnson asked.

The team made sure it was OK with Campbell’s parents up in the stands, and No. 66 returned to the field. His groin ached with every step. Most all highly touted recruits don’t even think about playing — especially when the final decision’s been made before kickoff. But Campbell couldn’t live with the guilt of not helping his friends in an elimination game his final season.

On the game-winning drive, Neville lined up Campbell next to their other SEC-bound lineman Lance Heard.

“We put both of them big sumbitches beside each other,” Johnson says, “and just drove down the field to win the game. He was a legend around here after that.”

That viral video of Campbell chugging a beer in the pros surprised Johnson because — back in high school — the five-star recruit was the one who didn’t drink. Oh, he’d attend parties. But Campbell was usually the one standing outside of the house, arms crossed, serving as a pseudo bouncer. He was a protector. He kept an eye on his friends to make sure nobody got hurt or did something they’d regret.

“He never backed down from anything or ever showed any uncertainty,” says Johnson. “I don't have any worry at all about him because he never backs down from anything. And he’s learning. I think he's going to be a lot better in the Super Bowl than he was two weeks ago just because he’s going to do whatever it takes to work on what he needs to work on.

“A real good person, good kid that's going to work his ass off to do whatever it takes.”

At LSU, he became a consensus All-American after allowing only five sacks in 2,553 collegiate snaps. Head coach Brian Kelly once said Campbell never made the same mistake twice. Teach him one thing, and it stuck. One year after selecting Maye as their franchise quarterback, the Patriots found the man to protect him.

Head coach Mike Vrabel was sold on Campbell during a private workout in which he brought his own blocking pads and crashed into the prospect 1 on 1.

It was love at first sight when Campbell knocked his future boss on his ass.

“I knew I had to make a statement.” Campbell says. “I did.”

Vrabel could physically feel Campbell’s power. His punch. In that moment, the coach knew the LSU tackle would be his guy at No. 4 overall and Campbell knew he wanted to play for a coach who’d mix it up. If this football thing doesn’t work, Campbell could probably make bank doing voiceovers. His deep, baritone, sloooowwww dialect is unlike any other on this roster. But as offensive line coach Doug Marrone notes, “don’t let the slow talk fool you.” There’s always substance to his message.

Campbell did not open up to teammates and coaches initially. Over time, everyone got to see his unique personality.

One way Vrabel pulled it out of him is by forcing Campbell to speak in front of the entire team each Friday. He’s essentially the team’s official anchorman. Campbell details the weather report for Sunday, shares what the Patriots players will be eating for lunch after practice, discusses any community events players have going on… and there’s a comedic flair. A punchline. Zingers always in the holster.

His delivery is exceptionally dry. Think: Norm Macdonald.

Pro football is a high-pressure, no-sleep, go-go-go profession by nature. Campbell’s Weekend Update-like address lightens the mood each week.

“They’re all Rated-R and in-house,” Campbell says, “so I cannot share.”

Chalk it up as another one of Vrabel’s masterful chess moves behind the scenes. Campbell fully busted out of his shell.

Cats are no friend of his and he’ll never subject himself to soccer, but he’s Louisiana to the bone. Most all spare time is spent hunting and fishing. You name it, he shoots it. Deer, turkey, duck and, of course, gator. He’s hunted in the bayou with people from the hit show, “Swamp People.” Last year, he was right on Troy Landry’s property hunting frogs. He’s been out on the swamp with Jeromy Pruitt, too. Marrone is skeptical. He wonders if Campbell is merely hanging a piece of chicken five feet above water. I agree. Swamp People did seem a pinch exaggerated.

Campbell pushes back.

“It’s hard,” he says. “You’ve got to fight ‘em on the line. That’s not easy because they’re big.”

Before the injury, Campbell was a steady presence on Maye’s blind side. After the injury, criticism intensified through the Patriots’ first two playoff wins. He didn’t hold back. “I don’t give a shit what anyone says,” he said a few days after the Patriots’ win over the Chargers. “It’s easy to type behind a Twitter account that is fake.” He cited “two or three plays” he wanted back against $300 million in defensive ends.

A fair rebuttal. Whereas defensive linemen shuttle in and out of the game to stay fresh, a left tackle plays 60 of 60 snaps. It doesn’t matter if you’re perfect on 59 of those snaps. One mistake, one whiff has the potential to completely wreck a game.

Relay this harsh reality to Campbell and he repeats that he does not care what’s said about him.

To Campbell, one quote from the Patriots’ quarterback proved prescient. The quarterback said once that you should never take criticism from someone you’d never ask advice from.

“The only opinions that matters are the people that are inside 1 Patriot Place,” Campbell says. “Inside that place. Nobody else matters. Not even my Mom’s opinion. My Dad’s opinion does not matter. It’s only the people that are in this building wearing a Patriots jersey and the guys that have a lanyard around their neck that says a coach.”

Ideally, the Patriots can let Campbell handle his business 1 on 1. Offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels would much rather use backs and tight ends in the passing game than chipping defenders. Seattle finished with 47 sacks and 122 QB hits in the regular season. Seattle’s D allowed the fewest yards per play (4.6), while also ranking sixth with 25 turnovers.

There isn’t a weak link on Mike Macdonald’s front. He even has one defensive lineman (Leonard Williams) whose nickname is “Big Cat.”

Uh-oh.

The Seahawks will undoubtedly flood pressure directly at Campbell in such a high-stakes environment.

“He’s very intense,” Marrone says. “He is an intense, fired-up guy who wants to perform at the highest level and when he makes a mistake, he’s very, very hard on himself. He’s going to correct it right away. So I think as a coach, you appreciate that. You don’t want someone to make a mistake and just be like, ‘Ah, I’ll get it. Don’t worry about it.’ He gets pissed. That’s a good trait he has.”

Adds guard Ben Brown: “Will’s done a phenomenal job this year. He’s played some of the best of the best this year. And he’s been locked in every single game.”

Campbell claims he has not even thought about Sunday night and that all he cares about is finishing these questions and heading into meetings.

Yet, there will be more than 125 million people watching this game on Sunday.

Not an easy proposition.

He doesn’t hesitate for one second.

“Nothing,” he says, “is easy in life.”

Subscribe now

Share

SAN FRANCISCO — There are pro football teams that do it the right way. Two of them are right here in the Bay Area preparing for Super Bowl LX. Through the 1990s, Ron Wolf’s scouting department became the gold standard. Nor did the Green Bay Packers general manager ever want to hold any of his scouts back. If someone had the chance to climb the ladder elsewhere, he’d do everything in his power to help you. Six of his scouts in all eventually became GMs.

Elsewhere, there are organizations wholly incapable of locating their ass from a hole in ground.

Take Dan Snyder’s buffoonish 24-year stewardship of the Washington Redskins. In 2001, he had John Schneider in his building. The 30-year-old was Snyder’s VP of player personnel. Yet after one 8-8 season, Snyder cleaned house.

Wolf, an endless fountain of football wisdom, thinks back to that time.

“Dan Snyder told me that he made a mistake about John,” Wolf recalls, “because he didn’t want to hire a guy who looked like his paperboy. I always thought that was really an interesting statement.”

Welcome to the Ron Wolf Bowl.

The Hall of Famer’s influence is all over this game.

Go Long is powered by you. Our readers. Thank you for building our community.

Subscribe now

One of his former proteges, Schneider, is the GM of the Seattle Seahawks. His son, Eliot Wolf, is VP of player personnel for the New England Patriots. Both have done a masterful job of constructing championship rosters from scratch exactly as Ron did 35 years ago. Arguably no football boss in the Super Bowl era faced Wolf’s challenge upon taking over the Packers on Nov. 27, 1991. The franchise had made the playoffs twice since Vince Lombardi’s reign. Playing in Green Bay, Wisc., was akin to Siberian exile. Free agency, introduced in ‘93, then threatened to render this team nestled in the NFL’s smallest market irrelevant.

Instead, Wolf created an entirely new world over his nine-year run.

Hiring Mike Holmgren. Trading for Brett Favre. Signing Reggie White. His transformation forever lives in NFL lore. At the heart of it all was a scouting staff full of brilliant minds who poured themselves into the profession.

“All those guys really liked football,” Wolf says. “And they bought into the deal. The deal was they were there to make the Packers better. This is always about the Packers, not about us individuals. And they all liked football. They worked really hard at refining their trade. They worked hard at it. Work didn’t bother them. Studying didn’t bother them.”

Go Long chatted with Ron Wolf, Eliot Wolf, Schneider and another one of those 90s scouts who became a GM (Scot McCloughan) to learn more. There was no top-, top-secret sauce. Three decades later, the same principles established by the man who resuscitated the Packers fuel Seattle and New England. It’s the work. It’s always been the work. Now, one of those Wolf proteges — his son or his former scout — will cover the Lombardi Trophy with their fingerprints Sunday night at Levi’s Stadim.

The Packers’ standard before Ron Wolf’s arrival was low. To put it nicely. This was an organization toiling in the sewer.

On Day 1, Wolf was provided full authority over football decisions by president Bob Harlan.

Starting from scratch had its obvious disadvantages. Talent was lacking. Morale and hope, too. But he figured out the inherent advantages. Wolf swiftly opened his front doors to all legends from the 60s to feed off of the Packers’ treasured history. Wolf also saw value in geography. Here, there were zero distractions. If he could find players who didn’t like football, rather loved it, the GM knew he had a chance to build something special.

Wolf also devised a completely new evaluation system on players that’d plainly reveal whether you can or cannot scout players.

“There’s no middle road,” Wolf explains. “You either know what you’re looking at or you don’t know.”

Wolf had all prospective scouts evaluate four or five players, read what they wrote, and then kept the ones with the best eye. Green Bay’s personnel department then focused most on NFC Central opponents.

Before any fantasies of winning a title, the GM knew he needed to start with Chicago, Minnesota, Detroit and Tampa Bay.

Wolf loved that Schneider was not afraid. He always voiced his opinion.

Schneider was a key voice in the team’s acquisition of a future Super Bowl MVP. A fourth overall pick in ’92, Desmond Howard flamed out with Washington and Jacksonville before signing with the Packers ahead of the ’96 season. He turned out to be a missing piece. Howard led the NFL in punt return yards (15.1 avg.), touchdowns (three) and then averaged 23.3 yards per punt return, 30.8 per kick return with two more scores in the playoffs. His 99-yard return sparked Green Bay’s 35-21 win over the Patriots.

All avenues were exhausted: the draft, free agency, trades. Once White chose the Packers in free agency, more veterans warmed up to the idea of those negative wind chills up north.

“I think by constant study, constant work, constant stressing the basics of what we’re doing — let’s get better — that’s how it happened,” Wolf says. “Those guys liked what they did. And they were very good at it.”

There was structure to everything the boss wanted. All discourse had a purpose.

Wolf could be intimidating. McCloughan refers to him as “godfather”-like presence.

“He would challenge you to make sure you’re on your game,” McCloughan says. “If you weren’t, he’d let you know. I’ll tell you what, he’d get after coaches and after scouts if they weren’t performing. I’m like, ‘Damn!’ He would cuss like you wouldn’t believe. I’d feel bad with Eliot being in there. He was so young. And I’m like, ‘You’re going to cuss like that in front of your son?’”

“He didn’t play around. He was all about business.”

The standard raised.

Other GMs tended to get enamored by a prospect’s 40 time or vertical leap. Through the 90s, a prospect’s alleged upside became all the rage. Wolf always valued the tape. Whatever a player showed on film — to him — was paramount. Everything else paled in comparison. And in the mid-90s, scouts used “beta tapes” that’d neatly fit into white sleeves for protection. As one draft closed in, Wolf noticed that the team’s running backs coach was all over the place with his grades. Not the end of the world. Coaching is different than evaluating prospects. But Wolf still wanted this coach’s input on a player, and he had a feeling he wasn’t putting in the work.

Wolf slid a $20 bill inside a sleeve of the film and asked the coach to watch three games.

When the coach returned the film, the $20 bill was still present. He wasn’t being courteous, either.

Says McCloughan: “No, no. This guy would’ve taken the $20 bill. He didn’t watch the tape.”

Naturally, the GM let the coach have it.

The standard raised a little more.

“He’d always challenge you,” McCloughan adds, “to make sure you were on your A game.”

Adds Schneider: “That work ethic. How to study. How to communicate. Don’t be a douchebag.”

Granted, Schneider was scared of Wolf. This was his NFL lifeline.

Other scouts couldn’t help but feast off this fear.

With a stern tone, Reggie McKenzie would tell Schneider that Wolf needed to see him inside his office. Schneider would walk down the hallway, into his GM’s office, and… Wolf had no clue why he was there. It was a ruse. Very quickly, the GM grew to appreciate the fact that Schneider was never afraid to speak up. Once while watching Rams film, Wolf asked aloud: “Who’s that guy wearing Dave Elmendorf’s number?” Crickets. He asked again, and Schneider chimed in: “Who’s Dave Elmendorf?” Elmendorf hadn’t played since the 1970s.

Wolf struck the perfect balance of being both tough and compassionate. He wanted everyone on his staff to progress, even if they couldn’t see it themselves. McCloughan had no intentions of leaving Green Bay at the turn of the century. One day, Wolf admitted he was retiring soon and that McCloughan needed to move west to serve as Ted Thompson’s director of college scouting. So, he did. He didn’t ask twice. When the Godfather spoke, you listened.

Now, two kids from the same high school take the sports world’s grandest stage.

Schneider graduated from De Pere Abbot Pennings in 1989, which merged with two other schools to become Notre Dame Academy in 1990. Eliot Wolf graduated from Notre Dame in 2000.

“Two guys from the same high school in Green Bay,” says Ron, “are involved in the biggest game of the year in the National Football League for the right to be a champion. It’s incredible.”

Schneider essentially served as a babysitter for the 11-year-old at Packers HQ whenever Eliot got out of school. He’d try to wear the kid out, making Eliot run up and down the basketball court doing layups. “He’d be like like, ‘Can we go play basketball?’” Schneider recalls. “I’d say, ‘Yeah, if your Dad doesn’t fire me!’”

Three years after Ron retired, Eliot joined the Packers scouting staff himself and worked his way up from pro personnel assistant to director of football ops from 2004 to ’17 before heading to the Cleveland Browns with John Dorsey. Following Snyder’s spastic decision in ‘01, Schneider returned to Green Bay from ’02 to ’09 and then took over the Seahawks in 2010. When their paths crossed again in Wisconsin, Schneider gave Eliot a true crash course. Dad doesn’t want to take credit for his son’s ascent, saying Eliot had excellent teachers in the likes of Schneider, McKenzie, Dorsey and Ted Thompson.

“He deserves all this himself,” Ron Wolf says. “Because he did it. I didn’t have a thing to do with that. I think those guys that trained him really did a heck of a job. And plus, he’s got such a great personality. He’s fortunate he received his mother’s intelligence and that helps dramatically. And he’s got her personality as well. So we’re both so proud of what he’s done and he can honestly say, ‘I did it my way.’ He did it his way. And that’s tremendous.”

When I ask Ron what distinguishes Eliot as the Patriots’ de facto GM, he cites similarities in how he helped build the Packers.

“It’s about the Patriots,” he says. “Making the Patriots better. Not an individual, that type of thing.”

McCloughan, who rose up the ranks himself in taking over the San Francisco and Washington personnel departments, is not surprised to see Eliot in the big game. At age 11 and 12, he describes Eliot as more of a child prodigy. One scene often played out in their meetings. Ron would ask an area scout about random prospects, an area scout would admit he doesn’t know much about that particular underclassman and Eliot jumped in.

On demand, he’d recite the prospect’s name and hometown.

“Boom, ‘he’s from Biloxi, Mississippi,’” McCloughan says. “He was young, but he knew everything. He’d embarrass the older scouts. ‘How do you know all this stuff? You’re embarrassing me in front of your Dad!’ He was on top of it.

“He loved the draft room. He loved the draft room.”

Of course, nobody had better access to the football mind of the Canton-bound GM than the GM’s son. Eliot Wolf learned a ton through osmosis. He vividly remembers hanging around scouts and hearing them analyze players for hours on end. Dad always stressed the importance of trusting what you see on tape — and truly believing it. But the No. 1 trait he learned from Dad was how to treat people when you’re in a leadership position.

“How to be honest,” Eliot says, “and have some self-awareness, so you can be able to supplement yourself with the areas that you need to improve.”

Looking back, he can clearly see what made this crew of scouts unique. There was a total lack of ego and “job climbing” prevalent in front offices today. No maneuvering, no backstabbing. They simply watched as much film as they could and prioritized the Packers’ success above anything else. That’s how both GMs in Super Bowl LX operate today. Schneider is repeatedly described by colleagues across the NFL as one of the most humble bosses in the business, the kind of guy who’ll treat acquaintances as old college buddies. No GM lasts 16 years running a team high strung. In Seattle, Schneider’s draft meetings are 7:30-to-7:30 marathons, but he finds ways to recharge batteries and keep spirits up. After giving scouts a break to hit the bathroom or grab a sandwich, Schneider queues up a hilarious video to lighten the mood.

Scouts have seen clips from “Caddyshack” and Step Brothers,” amongst other classics.

With a laugh, McCloughan refuses to disclose all details. Only know there were times scouts got into laughing fits and could not stop.

“I guarantee he still does it,” adds McCloughan, who runs his own scouting service these days. “That’s his personality. When it was go time, we’d grind.”

McCloughan heard that old Washington riff between Schneider and Snyder was rooted in his friend refusing to throw Marty Schottenheimer under the bus. The Redskins owner would “dog cuss” the head coach in an attempt to get Schneider to agree with him. Schneider refused to play such political games. Both coach and personnel exec were fired. Things worked out.

One lesson lasts a lifetime.

Operate with conviction at the sport’s most crucial position: Quarterback.

Wolf famously fell in love with a raw gunslinger out of Southern Miss named Brett Favre. With the New York Jets, Wolf desperately wanted Favre in the ‘91 draft, missed by one pick, and then did everything in his power to steal him from Atlanta as the Packers’ boss. Our Bob McGinn examined in full here.

Both John Schneider and Eliot Wolf realize they lived a charmed quarterback life in Green Bay, seamlessly transitioning from one Hall of Famer (Favre) to the next (Aaron Rodgers). That’s not normal. Through their own strong conviction, however, they found their franchise quarterbacks.

In Seattle, Schneider shipped Geno Smith to the Las Vegas Raiders and signed Sam Darnold at $33.5 million per year. The swap was mocked by pundits across the country. Schneider understood that Smith threw a prettier ball, but he was drawn to all of the other stuff. He loved that Darnold — like Favre — was no cookie-cutter quarterback. His parents didn’t send him to a bunch of 7-on-7 camps. Darnold played linebacker in high school and Darnold was a natural leader. Guys wanted to fight for him. He saw a “three-point shooter” who’s never deterred by an interception.

Darnold doesn’t chuck his helmet and act like a baby. He keeps shooting.

Teammates see this and take on the same personality. If the QB is calm, they’ll be calm.

“That’s why Ron Wolf always said you’ve got to go see a quarterback in person,” Schneider says, “to see how they handle themselves.”

In New England, Eliot took Drake Maye third overall in the 2024 NFL Draft. In theory, he could’ve moved that pick for a massive haul. The Patriots were peppered with offers from other teams, but Eliot never seriously entertained them. Unlike Bears GM Ryan Poles, who laughed Maye off the screen, he saw this raw North Carolina prospect making NFL-quality throws.

The more he was around Maye, the more he also viewed him as a quarterback any GM should want as the face of their team.

“It’s all genuine,” Eliot says. “I know he goes up on the podium and he talks about, ‘I don’t care about personal accolades.’ That’s all real. He is all about the right things. He’s all about the team. He’s super competitive. He’s super tough. Obviously glad we have him.”

Football doesn’t need to be overly complicated. All three agree that the reason they’ve managed to win games and get to Super Bowls is an obsession with the craft. Over time, you develop a sixth sense for the type of player you want filling a roster. Last spring, Eliot Wolf helped the Patriots secure a cavalry of free agents who fit Mike Vrabel’s identity. Milton Williams, Carlton Davis, Robert Spillane, Harold Landry, K’Lavon Chaisson, Morgan Moses all fit the new coach’s hard-nosed ethos.

When Wolf watches practice, Vrabel coaches guys on the practice squad with the same energy as the highest-paid players on the team. That’s how he always approached scouting, too. No transaction is too small. Last offseason, the Patriots made a point to add players with “toughness” and “humility” and the result has been 17 wins in 20 games.

When Eliot Wolf scans his 53-man roster, he sees players who’ll fight for the guy next to them.

“That’s pretty unique,” he says. “We didn’t want to bring any assholes in here or guys that weren’t going to be about the team and I think we were able to accomplish that.”

Now, two kids who grew up in Green Bay will fight for the sport’s ultimate prize. It does not matter if one of those GMs resembled a paper boy in the eyes of the sport’s worst owner. Nor does it matter that the other got sucked into the Browns vortex for a couple years.

Ron Wolf will be on hand.

With all due respect to John Schneider, he knows which team he’s rooting for in Santa Clara.

“Blood is blood,” he says with a laugh. “Blood is blood.”

Share

Give a gift subscription

Share

ORCHARD PARK, NY — Before the news lit up your cell phone, Brandon Beane knew for damn sure many of you would not be happy. He was briefed on public perception. Many outsiders would inevitably view the announcement of Joe Brady as the next Buffalo Bills head coach as status quo. Safe. Brady was the familiar name, the author of wide-receiver screens making fans go hoarse with rage.

All while the organization was being scolded by talking heads over words in a press conference.

All while the firing of Sean McDermott was treated as a national tragedy in the 716. There were petitions signed, ice sculptures erected and even one local news segment featuring a psychologist explaining how players could possibly cope with the loss of their coach.

Beane, of course, became the source of rampant and ravenous conspiracy theories.

The instinct for anyone in Beane’s position — promoted to director of football operations — is damage control. Seek the PR win. Grovel to all gripping pitchforks.

At 10 a.m., the Bills conducted that viral presser bastardized ‘round the sports world. At 1 p.m., they met with Brady for four hours. They met with eight more candidates, Zoomed with Brady once more and offered the 36-year-old offensive coordinator the job. We’re sitting inside an office at One Bills Drive after the dust settles and Beane admits he still hasn’t caught his breath. About an hour into conversation, I relay approval ratings to him. One poll conducted by a media outlet in town revealed 8 percent of fans liked the hire. Another was stuck on 7 percent before inching up to 8 percent.

Beane doesn’t look surprised at all.

He knew there would be intense backlash. He’s been here before.

“And to me?” he says. “Fuck the outside. It’s about the right selection for this team. And if we win, they’ll love it. It’s the same thing I said when I took Josh Allen. If I’m wrong, the moving company will be at my house. So, I understand. And I’m not going to have regret of choosing someone to appease the outside if I thought it should have been something different. If I’m wrong, I’ll fucking take my job and fucking go home.

“I don’t want to be wrong — see him go somewhere else — when my gut told me it was Joe Brady. I’m never going to do that.

“I would love for everyone to cheer every move, but it’s not about winning the press conference. It’s about winning games over there.”

He points toward the Bills’ new stadium out the window.

He’s not done speaking on this matter.

Subscribe now

“If we do that, everyone will cheer. If I selected who they want me to select or the outside noise — whatever those ratings were — and we don’t win? Guess who’s going to fucking hear about it? Me. So if I’m going to get yelled at, I’m going to get yelled at for choosing the guy that I believe can do this.”

No, the Bills are not looking back. They got their guy.

He drinks far too many bottles of Gatorade Fast Twitch energy drinks. He walks into work wearing shorts, negative wind chill be damned. He’s been known as a gust of positivity through all hallways as an assistant coach the last four years. Now? Joe Brady is the 21st head coach in Bills history. The 20 men before him did not face expectations this steep. Arguably no current coach in the entire NFL faces pressure like Brady in 2026.

McDermott could not get it done. His message grew stale.

So, the Bills reorganized their hierarchy.

At his emotional introductory press conference, Brady strummed five main chords.

He mentioned the word “alignment” eight times. He preached accountability. He said his defense will attack. He promised to bring a new energy to this team.

He assured the world these Bills will flow through quarterback Josh Allen.

None of this was Chat GPT gobbledygook. These words were chosen for good reason. Everything Brady said was both a hint back at where these Bills have been the last decade and where they’re heading into the future. To learn more, Go Long sat down with two of the chief decision-makers in those head-coach interviews: the GM Beane and president of business operations Pete Guelli. We also checked back in with team sources witnessing this transition firsthand.

The Bills cast an extremely wide net. With Allen on the interview committee, they interviewed three candidates in Orchard Park: Brady, Brian Daboll and Lou Anarumo. Then they sat down with six more from Boca Raton, Fla.: Philip Rivers, Grant Udinski, Davis Webb, Anthony Weaver, Anthony Lynn and Nathan Scheelhaase (virtual). Three times Brady referred to his interview as “intense.” He was not treated as a known commodity — the Bills’ brass grilled him, the Bills got to know the person from scratch. And the more we peel back the layers on those buzz words at that presser, the more it’s obvious why Brady was the pick.

This coach might’ve been around the last four seasons but he’s the diametric opposite of his predecessor where it matters most.

Now, the Bills believe a Super Bowl is possible.

Inside the room

Interviews were conversational and comfortable, yet admittedly “intimidating” by nature. Guelli recreates the scene. When candidates stepped into the room, they sat at the head of a long table. Owner Terry Pegula was at the other end. Guelli was directly to the candidate’s left with assistant GM Brian Gaine, Beane, Pegula, assistant GM Terrance Gray, Allen and Laura Pegula all forming a U-shape.

The quarterback’s presence also sent an obvious message: this is the center of your new universe.

Guelli got a kick out of blowback over hiring an internal candidate because — if it was that simplistic? — he sure wishes he got a week of his life back. “It was nonstop,” says this team’s head of business, “from start to finish.” He’s been involved in interviews for coaches, GMs and execs over his years with the New York Giants and Charlotte Hornets. To him, this search might’ve been the most “deliberate” and “strategic” of them all. Nodding toward Beane, he says the GM never deviated from Interview No. 1 to No. 9. Everyone asked pre-written questions and dialogue naturally flowed. They were determined to learn more about both the coach and the human.

From there, they shifted to game management and psychological evaluations.

“You better be prepared when you walk in that room,” Guelli says, “because questions can come from anywhere.”

The goal was to treat Brady as a blank state. The Bills acted as if they hardly knew anything about him.

Bare minimum, Beane knew the Bills owed Brady an interview. He also interviewed with the Las Vegas Raiders and Baltimore Ravens. One year prior, he turned down the New Orleans Saints’ head job. Beane essentially went full Men in Black, taking a neuralyzer to everyone’s brains. He didn’t want anyone in the room harboring one inkling of a preconceived notion. This was no “promotion.”

“This is not taking the assistant ticket director and making him the head of ticket sales,” Beane says. “Joe was either out of a job or he’s the head coach. A new coach can come in and do his own thing. There’s no guarantee Joe Brady had a job. It was important that Joe was viewed as an NFL coach. He just happened to be in our building the last four years.”

During the season, Beane always viewed Brady as an OC and an OC only. He never spoke to Brady about sports science, the offseason weight program or how he’d run practice. He’d simply ask how Free Agent X would fit into his offense or if Allen was going off script when he took off on specific plays the previous Sunday. This was the first time Beane listened to Brady’s vision for the entire team.

Brady detailed how he’d change the offense and defense. Brady hammered the fact that he wants to put opposing offensive coordinators under stress — the first time the GM heard a coach put it this way. (More of this later.) By the end of that first interview, Beane felt good about where this interview process was heading.

Adds Beane: “I’m like, ‘Well if I fucked up the other eight, we got a guy that can be a head coach and can win.’”

Daboll was solid. Anarumo, too. With nasty weather raging through Western New York, the Bills headed to Pegula’s office in Florida for the rest.

Rivers’ name was a shock to the football world. When Beane got wind that the longtime QB might be interested in coaching, he figured why not. Notepad in hand, Rivers interview was a home run. Beane calls him a “football savant” — the GM took a ton of notes himself. Beane gave Rivers 48 hours to contemplate whether or not he’d want to pursue this whole coaching thing and Rivers called the GM back in near tears. His wife was on-board, but Rivers (a father of 10) couldn’t fully commit. The two sides did build a relationship that could lead to an opportunity in the future. Lynn brought a unique perspective from his Bills days a decade prior and coaching the Los Angeles Chargers. Beane also says that Weaver “was freaking really strong” and should be the head coach of a team.

This audible to Florida had a silver lining — they were all sequestered. There were no distractions at all. This was all they were thinking about and talking about. All along, they learned a hell of a lot about themselves through all nine chats. Weaver played Allen twice a year. Anarumo beat Buffalo in a playoff game. Lynn nearly got the job back in 2017. Webb played in Buffalo from ‘19 to ‘21. Both Webb and Udinski had just faced the Bills’ defense in the playoffs.

“I don’t think you can underestimate what you're hearing from these guys,” Guelli says, “and the perspective they’re giving you on your organization and how they attack it.”

As the first man to interview, Brady was at an inherent disadvantage. Recency bias is real. When the Bills talked to him a second time — via Zoom — Beane wanted everyone to be direct. The GM told everyone to leave no question unanswered because he didn’t want anyone walking out of the room wishing they asked a candidate something. Questions got so intense that Guelli felt the need to apologize afterward.

“I went after him,” Guelli says. “I wasn’t afraid to ask him anything.”

Guelli deals with the dollars. He bluntly informed candidates they’d be CEOs of a franchise worth billions. What makes you think you’re ready for this? he asked. He laid out everything that goes into breaking in a new stadium and the need to have tough conversations through the season.

Adversity is a guarantee. Fail to meet that adversity head-on and you’re toast.

Through it all, the Bills were blown away by Brady’s CEO-like approach to the job. He grasped the “owner to GM to coach to quarterback dynamic,” Guelli adds. He knew exactly how he’d use sports science to tweak the team’s practice schedule. Injuries have been a problem. Familiarity with the organization obviously helped. Brady even offered a few thoughts on the business side.

“He understood that big picture,” Guelli says, “and how it’s all connected.”

Beane, now overseeing the entire football operation, was the point man and everyone was welcomed to jump in with questions on any topic.

Brady was dressed to the nines. Weaver, too. Rivers, Daboll, Lynn went no suit.

There were no lunch breaks. About an hour and a half in, they’d all take five minutes for a bathroom break. Then, questions resumed for another hour and a half before the Bills ushered in VP of Football Research Dennis Lock to lead the game management portion of the interview. Locke administered this test in-person for the interviews in Orchard Park and via Zoom for the ones in Florida.

A crucial segment for this team.

McDermott won 66 percent of his games in the regular season.

McDermott, in the playoffs, too often combusted. His tightness has strangulated Buffalo at the worst possible moments. Several sources have explained how his nerves become his players nerves. McDermott can meticulously plot how he wants a program to run over the course of days, weeks, months. The sport’s most consequential decisions, however, must be made in the blink of an eye. Overthinking dooms.

The Bills somehow needed to simulate the sport’s inevitable pressure-packed moments.

Beane couldn’t put a headset on candidates and simulate 70,000 screaming fans, but one idea came to him from the team’s quarterback search in 2018.

Back then, the ex-OC Daboll taught QBs plays in the classroom. Allen, Baker Mayfield, Josh Rosen, whoever was in town took notes and was then given 30 seconds on the board to master what they were just taught. “It’s high speed,” Beane says. “They just came out of the huddle and they’ve got 30 seconds to do it.” Multiple quarterbacks could not replicate Daboll’s play design in 30 seconds. Allen clocked in at 21 and 22 seconds on his two attempts.

Simply asking a coach how he handles game management wasn’t enough. Those answers can be polished in advance.

Instead, the Bills began by asking a coach if they had an aggressive or conservative mindset. “Aggressive” was obviously a go-to answer. Locke would then put candidates through a 30-minute test full of specific, rapid-fire scenarios.

Some of those coaches claiming to be aggressive were exposed as conservative.

“It was interesting,” Beane says. “You’re observing. You’re paying attention to who’s nailing these, who’s not. And not all of ‘em are right or wrong. Some are, some aren’t. And then a couple hours later, Dennis would send me an email with his breakdown: ‘Hey, this guy is very analytical. He gets it. We won’t need to do a lot with him. He’ll be ready.’ Or, ‘this guy said he was aggressive, but all his answers are conservative. He’s also lacking here. We’re going to need to do some work, but we can get there.’ And there was one or two where he’s like, ‘I have concerns about the game management piece if this were to be our coach.’”

Brady passed with flying colors.

Brady also aced the most important aspect of his interview.

He understands precisely why the Bills are a year-in, year-out Super Bowl contender.

Give a gift subscription

Priorities

He leaned toward the players seated in the front row and got emotional. Joe Brady imagined a world in which he’s cheering on the defense in practice. He cannot wait to build relationships with players on that side of the ball.

“Everything I am is because of you guys,” Brady said. “All I ever think about is making sure that you guys are successful. It is not about me. It is always about you guys. And lastly, I talked about love. Josh always says it: ‘If you love someone, let ‘em know. I love you guys.”

Later, he made the team’s focus crystal clear.

Asked about Josh Allen, he chose his words deliberately.

“Every decision this organization makes,” said Brady, again turning toward his quarterback, “is with the thought of Josh Allen and the players in mind. I’d be crazy not to.”

Brady brought up his time with the New Orleans Saints. Up close, he witnessed how Sean Payton and co. made every decision with Drew Brees at the forefront of mind. The 13-time Pro Bowler was “thought about” and “talked about” 24/7/365. Payton, a man who does not lack ego, understood Brees was his team’s energy source.

Brees had New Orleans on his back.

Allen has Buffalo on his. “A weight” Brady said he cannot fathom.

“Everything I think about is trying to find ways to put him in a position to have success,” the new Bills head coach continued. “Because that’s all I care about with him. Josh Allen is the best player in the NFL and I have to grow. … I have so much love for that man right there, and all I want is him to get everything that he deserves.”

He made it clear — nonstop — who served as the center of this team’s universe.

All swooning was no accident. Privately and publicly, for too long, the man he’s replacing did not prioritize his quarterback. He was shockingly myopic. When Allen decided to build a house in WNY, one coach recalled an irate McDermott barking: “Tell Josh to stop worrying about that fucking house! We’ve got the season coming up. When the season starts, that needs to be (ex-girlfriend) Brittany’s issue and not fucking his.”

McDermott, conversely, believed the Bills ran through McDermott. By the time he tried to change — and asked Allen to do snow angels on live TV, etc. — it was too forced, too unnatural. Nobody completely changes who they are at age 50. This was the same coach who’d tear apart Cam Newton to Bills assistants for, in his mind, ruining the Panthers’ shot at a Super Bowl.

One former Bills assistant put it best in saying McDermott didn’t understand there are only a half-dozen humans walking the planet who are franchise quarterbacks whereas there are hundreds of coaches. “You keep poking one of the six,” he added, “and they’re going to replace you and go to pick one of the hundreds that are still walking around out there.” One ex-Bills player said the coach should write his QB a “Thank You” letter once a week for earning him millions of dollars. This relationship wasn’t outright toxic… but it wasn’t great. Certainly not what’s sold at press conferences. Back in 2023, this player called the situation a “ticking time bomb.”

The disconnect festered because, to a fault, Allen has never been one to storm into any boss’ office and demand changes. This Firebaugh, Calif., farm kid who generated all of zero stars as a recruit and wrote an email to 1,000 colleges after JUCO never cusses out teammates.

Eventually, Pegula noticed. Pegula grew to realize Allen is the star of the show and offered Allen a (literal) seat at the (literal) table. He saw the raw emotion inside the visitor’s locker room in Denver and encouraged his most valuable employee to speak up on the direction of the organization.

If Buffalo’s sole mission was to hire Josh’s Guy, Beane adds, the easy answer would’ve been Daboll. They were thick as blood. In the end, the Bills did not overcompensate to this extreme. How close were Allen and Brady? After Daboll left for the New York Giants, Beane believes Allen was careful not to allow himself to get too close to him. He could still rifle off all the crude jokes he did with “Dabes,” but the quarterback was careful. He maintained a buffer because he assumed good times were bound to end. Good teams with a defensive-minded head coach all burn through OCs.

“In his mind, it was: ‘I’m only going to keep these coordinators so long,’” Beane says. “And it hurt him when Daboll left as the mentor, the father figure, the friend. My approach was that he had a great relationship with Joe but might not have let himself get quite as vulnerable as he did with Daboll because I think last year he thought Joe was going to leave.”

No wonder Allen looked like a kid visiting Disney World in that first row of the presser.

Now, these two have a chance to grow together for the long haul.

Allen served as an extension of the locker room in these interviews. He’d know how these candidates would (or would not) connect with players. Beane told his QB to let him know if he got a bad feeling from anyone. He did not. There are certainly players who enjoyed McDermott as their coach and saw real evolution to his coaching style. I caught up with one longtime vet last week who only had nice things to say about the head coach.

Others believe his voice grew stale and saw the need for new energy. Positive energy.

Asked about Brady, Bills offensive lineman Alec Anderson said the quiet part out loud.

“He wants us to know that we don’t have to have our assholes so tight around him all time,” Anderson said. “We can go walk around and be our personalities. He always says in offensive meetings, ‘Be you.’ If you’re not a horrible, disgusting human being, let it show. Everyone’s going to love you for who you are.”

Whenever an interviewer threw a fastball at Brady, he didn’t flinch. Didn’t get defensive.

The Bills were struck by his dogged positivity.

“He’s just a positive guy,” Beane says. “A fresh new message. Positive energy. Along with his intelligence is what you’re going to get and his vision. And it’s up to me to help him — me and my staff — to help him bring his vision to life.”

Allen has his finger on the pulse of the locker room and Allen also happens to make $55 million per year. He warranted a say, but not the say, in making sure the Bills secured a voice who’d freshen up the building. That’s why Allen was not involved with the final Zoom call. If the call went south — if the choice wasn’t Brady — Beane didn’t want his QB feeling like he was part of the reason why.

All of which is a delicate balance. No team wants its quarterback going Full Aaron Rodgers. After holding the Green Bay Packers hostage for three months in 2021, the former MVP lampooned management at the podium for what he considered a series of transgressions. He rattled off a string of players he believed the team should’ve re-signed when, in truth, a simple Google search reveals the Packers were smart to cut ties in most of those cases.

GMs must GM. Coaches must coach. Players play.

The Bills know Allen’s wiring.

“Anybody that’s criticizing the quarterback’s role in this?” Guelli adds. “It’s the biggest no-brainer you could possibly have. He was engaged. He was professional. He was objective. He was a really, really important part of the entire process but did not in any way try to steer it or dominate it. He was just one of the group. Anything you thought about going into that stuff, you came out feeling even better about this guy leading you.”

If “process” was the word drilled into craniums nine years ago, the new word of the day is “alignment.”

Before, McDermott and Beane reported to Pegula separately.

Before, McDermott and Allen weren’t exactly Reid/Mahomes.

Finally, the Bills believe they’ve got Owner-GM-HC-QB synced up. Nor do they believe McDermott packed up his culture with him upon dismissal. Everyone in charge repeats that the players themselves will drive the culture.

The key is trying to get the best out of No. 17. There’s a new order of operations in Orchard Park.

“He gives this organization the best chance to win the Super Bowl,” Beane says. “And the two most important hires that an organization can make are No. 1, the franchise quarterback. And No. 2, the head coach. It’s paramount to do that. The best way to give him a chance to win Super Bowl is make sure we have the right head coach. And then it’s my job to make sure the rest of the people are aligned with the vision and the players that we need to help those two lead this team and get over the top.”

Beane points out that Allen turns 30 years in May. Not 38. He expects several bites at the championship apple. Still, the Bills made it clear to all candidates that this is no rebuild, no teardown. The expectation is a ring. Brady fully understood the urgency.

“He’s not hiding from saying he wants to win the whole damn thing,” Beane says.

To earn the job, he needed to offer a plan on the field.

Subscribe now

Attack

Opinion became cold-hard fact by the eighth playoff defeat: McDermott’s defense malfunctions in January. His unit allowed a staggering 33.2 ppg in its last six postseason L’s. And on those 52 non-kneeldown drives, the Bills surrendered 3.83 points per drive — a higher rate that the 2007 New England Patriots — while creating only three turnovers.

When Brady referenced “intense” dialogue with the Bills, Beane is sure this is what he’s referencing. “You want to be aggressive?” grilled Beane. “What does that mean? Tell me. What are you going to do? What do you know about defense?”

Brady pointed to what can give their own MVP quarterback a hard time. When defenses disguise their intent past the 15-second mark on the play clock, there’s nothing he can do as a playcaller to help Allen. Communication on the headset shuts off. Brady can only curse and hope Allen sees the same thing he does.

This will define his defense. Brady won’t only try to get inside the brains of quarterbacks.

“I want coordinators,” Brady told Beane, “to be up there going, ‘Fuck we’re not in a good fucking play here. We need to get out of it or we’ve got to call a timeout.’ And I want the defenses to be fucking around. I don’t want ‘em all lined up: Six tech, three tech, one tech. If (Greg) Rousseau is here on this play, he’s going to be over there on this play. I don’t want him when they get out of the huddle to always know where these guys are going to be.”

Big changes are clearly coming to this side of the ball.

On Saturday, the Bills hired Jim Leonhard as their defensive coordinator.

Buffalo’s basic, bend-but-don’t-break scheme works against average quarterbacks. But it was fairly easy for the Broncos — like playoff teams past — to notice an ice-cold Darnell Savage or Dane Jackson in a game, and attack. Telegraph your intent vs. smart coordinators (and smart quarterbacks) in the playoffs and you’re cooked. Coaches who’ve faced the Bills have told Go Long there’s nothing exotic about this scheme. That’s a tough way to make a living for teams not named the Houston Texans.

The Bills’ brass also had the same questions as fans: What’s the vision on offense?

Brady took it back to ’20 and ’21 before his arrival, noting how successful the Bills were in 10 and 11 personnel with a horde of weapons at wide receiver: Stefon Diggs, Cole Beasley, John Brown, Emmanuel Sanders, Gabe Davis. Then, he pointed out that as defenses tried to match spread offenses with lighter defenders, 12 and 13 personnel became in vogue across the NFL. Offenses have deployed more two- and three- tight end sets to smash finesse personnel. Both teams about to play in the NFC title game, he told them, go heavy. The Bills were able to stay ahead of this trend by developing a ground game of their own. James Cook led the NFL in rushing. Teams cannot sit back in two shell against Buffalo.

Brady told the Bills he’ll keep evolving. More spread concepts out of 11 and 10 personnel are absolutely a possibility with another weapon or two. Especially considering more defenses are masquerading one-high as two high safeties before the snap. There will be opportunities downfield.

Seasons past, Brady wasn’t necessarily instructed all game what to do, but the head coach had his hands all over the crafting of individual gameplans. McDermott’s week-to-week focus was straightforward: “How do we win the game?” Against elite quarterbacks, he’d stress the need to possess the ball and play keepaway. Brady was a good soldier who respected his boss. He surely remembered how he got the OC job midway through 2023. McDermott fired Ken Dorsey because he believed Dorsey’s balance was out of whack.

Establishing the line of scrimmage is important. Throwing the ball 50+ a game is counterproductive for any team. During his interview, Brady also did not demean or criticize McDermott. But it was clear he would’ve called a few games differently if he was in charge.

“He talked about more downfield passing and that’s on me,” Beane says. “I’ve got to make sure I got the right pieces to do that, too.”

No longer will the Bills be reactive.

One rallying cry at the introductory press conference was probably no coincidence.

“I believe in everything about these guys right here,” Brady said. “And the mentality as we go forward is that it is a nameless, faceless opponent that we’re going against. They’ve got to play us and not the other way around. I mean that with everything. They’ve got to play Josh Allen and the Buffalo Bills, not the other way around. And it does not matter the day of the week, the time of the day. Is it outside? Is it inside? What’s the weather? Just put the damn ball down. Let’s go play.”

The reason Brady was in such demand is that his offense has been so productive. Look at any advanced statistic. In ’24, the Bills ranked second in EPA per play and seventh in success rate. In ’25, they were third and second. Not that everything was perfect. Beane put him on the spot. In a 23-19 loss to Houston, Allen was hit 12 times and sacked eight times. The GM asked Brady how he’d approach this game if he could do it again and Brady did not hesitate — he pointed all fingers at himself. He told the GM he lost sleep over that loss because he was too slow adjusting to Houston’s venomous pass rush and didn’t fully account for Spencer Brown’s injured arm.

He even brought up another game he called poorly.

At his introductory press conference, a time for all first-year coaches to bask in sunlight, Brady brought up Buffalo’s five turnovers in their 33-30 divisional playoff loss to Denver. He took full blame.

A refreshing change from playoff defeats past.

Accountability

Players. Coaches. Everyone inside this building — we’re told repeatedly — is dying for accountability.

Joe Brady has a strong relationship with his quarterback.

Joe Brady brings an infectious energy the Bills have been lacking.

This may be the greatest change of all.

“When our guys play well, it’s because of them,” Brady said. “When they don’t, it’s because of me. We address things obviously in the meeting rooms but the accountability is going to always start and end with me. I take full responsibility for having the ball with the game on the line and we didn’t get it done.”

Contrast this with the aftermath of “13 Seconds,” when coaches recalled McDermott absurdly stating that the offense scored too fast in the locker room. The next day, he then told his assistants: “You guys need to get away. Recharge, reflect, and figure out what you can do better to avoid that happening again.” With that, McDermott exited the room. In reality, the head coach was to blame. (“He never takes accountability,” one former Bills assistant recalled. “For anything.”)

After last season’s conference title loss, McDermott directed everyone’s attention to the offense’s failure on the final drive.

“Accountability is not what we just had,” says one Bills source who’s seen how McDermott reacts privately to the team’s crushing playoff losses. “Players are only going to go so far if they don’t feel you’re accountable. It’s got to be both ways.”

This is why we’ve cited 13 Seconds as the moment that broke McDermott’s Bills. Overruling a squib kick. Lining up his cornerbacks in another zip code. Getting steamrolled in overtime. Everything you saw on the field was bad enough. Everything said behind closed doors was somehow worse. There was no ownership, so there was no way to move on.

Another team source estimates the Bills were operating at “60 percent” capacity due to the coach’s lack of accountability.

A psychological reset was long overdue.

Now, the Bills give themselves a chance to win a Super Bowl.

Neither Beane or Guelli want to look back to the past. Understandable. Beane also declines to say who qualified as finalists for this job. When asked about Udinski, a fan favorite, Beane said the Jags OC has a “high, high intelligence factor” and will be a head coach “for sure” one day. “Brilliant,” Guelli chimed in.

Buffalo spoke to Brady first, then last. After interviewing with the Las Vegas Raiders, the OC returned to Buffalo at 11:30 p.m. on Monday Jan. 26. Beane told him to be ready for a call any time after 8 a.m. They were all still in Florida, while Brady was still in his office. His stuff was packed. He didn’t know if he’d be heading back to Las Vegas, to Baltimore as OC or just down the hall to McDermott’s office. By 8:45 a.m., they all hopped on that final Zoom call and Beane knew about 30 minutes in that this was his guy.

Others did not hold back. That’s when Guelli ‘n company hammered Brady with their toughest questions.

“Conviction. Clarity. He was a confident guy,” Beane says. “Listen, he’s a wanted man. I know for damn sure if Vegas didn’t hire him, there were multiple teams that would’ve made him the highest-paid OC. And so you’ve got to make sure before you let the guy out of the building. Him being here should not have hurt him, but it shouldn’t have helped him either. That’s the clearest, cleanest process.”

Beane turned to Pegula and said, “I’m good.”

The others continued to ask questions. And when it was Pegula’s turn, the owner cut to the chase: “Well, sounds like you should be the next head coach of Buffalo Bills.”

Brady kept rolling with the interview, before stopping himself. “Is that a job offer?” he asked. With that, the Bills completed their search. Once Brady accepted the position, Beane filled in Allen and contract details were ironed out with agent Trace Armstrong over an hour and 15 minutes.

Approval ratings, be damned.

This was easily one of the most tumultuous weeks of the GM’s football life. After McDermott’s firing, fans vilified Brandon Beane as the nefarious victor of a Game of Thrones-like power play behind the scenes. At his subsequent presser, Beane became emotional. He called such accusations harmful “BS” and said his wife had tears in her eyes when he walked through the door.

The same people photoshopping “Big Baller Beane” memes on social media were now out for blood. Whereas McDermott was painted as a combination of Vince Lombardi and Mother Theresa, he was the backstabber. Right when he needed to shift gears and find the team’s next head coach.

Deafening uproar can send anyone down a dark road.

Or, you grow. You use the experience for good.

A few words from one friend stuck: “You know who you are, no one else defines you.” Beane also received texts from people throughout the building who were excited about the team’s future. Not just people trying to save their jobs, either. Staffers in completely different departments reached out.

“I walk in this building,” he continues, “people are fired up. And that’s what fires me up. I feel responsibility for the trainers, the scouts, sports science, the video, they’re all behind this, our vision going forward. I know if I lose my job that it’s not about me. They could lose their job. And so I’m going to fucking do everything.

“And that goes with selecting the right head coach.”

With that, Beane hustles out. He’s got to reconvene with Brady to hire a staff.

In March, there’s players to sign. In April, there’s prospects to draft. In September, everyone will move into that glistening new stadium across Abbott Road. And for this team, with this quarterback, it’s all still all about one month. January.

The good news? Nobody seems to understand that more than the man the Buffalo Bills hired.

Share

Subscribe now

ICYMI:

Note: For those reading in their email inbox, be sure to click the link at the bottom to expand in full.

Our Pro Football Hall of Fame scribe chats with personnel men across the league to bring you unvarnished analysis of the NFC North.

Share

By Bob McGinn

The winds of change whipped through the NFL in the last few months everywhere, that is, except in the NFC North Division.

Front office, head coach and quarterback hold the levers of power in pro football. The constant upheaval caused by impatient ownership hasn’t been a factor of late in the old Black and Blue group.

This division hasn’t had a new general manager since January 2022 when Ryan Poles took over for Ryan Pace in Chicago and Kwesi Adofo-Mensah replaced Rick Spielman in Minnesota. In January 2021, Detroit hired Brad Holmes to succeed Bob Quinn. Green Bay promoted Brian Gutekunst to assume the duties of the late Ted Thompson in January 2018.

While the GMs have a combined 21 years of experience in their present positions, the head coaches have 17 years: Matt LaFleur (seven) in Green Bay, Dan Campbell (five) in Detroit, Kevin O’Connell (four) in Minnesota and Ben Johnson (one) in Chicago.

The NFC North teams had no reasonable reason to make a coach change seeing that all four have winning records that include at least one division title.

Just seven years in, LaFleur is tied for fourth in NFL coaching seniority behind Andy Reid, 13 years in Kansas City, and Sean McVay of the Rams and Kyle Shanahan of the 49ers, each of whom have nine seasons in their present posts.

Campbell’s five years are tied for sixth most with their current team. O’Connell’s four years are tied for eighth most.

Every one of the eight divisions was hit by at least one of the NFL’s 10 coaching changes for 2026 except the NFC North.

As for the quarterbacks, Jared Goff, Jordan Love and Caleb Williams all could be considered the most vital player on their teams. The Vikings can’t be sure about J.J. McCarthy but at least he was their first-round draft choice and has substantial room to grow.

Such rare stability is one important reason why the NFC North owns the best overall record over the last three years. It’s also a possible reason why the four teams were so evenly matched this season and could remain so in the foreseeable future.

The Packers extended their control of the division not long ago by winning three straight titles from 2019-’21. Now they haven’t won one in four years.

“It all comes down to beating everybody in the NFC North,” Love said after the wild-card playoff loss to the Bears. “We’ve got to find ways to get back after it and improve, and I think it starts with trying to win the NFC North. We’ve got to do that.”

In 2022, the Vikings captured their first division crown in five years with a 13-4 record before crashing six games to 7-10 the next year.

Detroit, which hadn’t won a division championship since 1993, rolled to back-to-back titles in 2023-’24 before rampant injuries, coordinator changes and diminished performance sent them falling to the cellar in 2025.

The Bears pulled off an unexpected worst-to-first run this season for their first title in seven years. A few days after the divisional playoff loss to the Rams in overtime, Johnson painted much the same picture for the future as Campbell, his former boss, had done in Detroit more than once.

“There is no building off of this,” said Johnson. “We’re back at the bottom again, and that’s really all 32 teams. If you feel otherwise, you’re probably missing the big picture.”

The All-NFC North team that I compiled after consultation with scouts reflects just how slim the margins are among the four members.

Look at the 22 first-team picks. The fourth-place Lions led with eight followed by the Packers and Vikings, each with five, and the first-place Bears with four.

Look at the 22 second-team choices. This time, the fourth-place Lions finished last with one behind the Vikings (eight), the Bears (seven) and the Packers (six).

Add up the 44 first- and second-team selections and it’s clear none of the NFC North clubs can be said to have the best roster. The overall totals were 13 for the Vikings, 11 for the Bears and Packers, and nine for the Lions.

Asked to handicap the division next season, one scout summed it up thusly: “I don’t see that division being anything but a dogfight.”

Here is a position-by-position look at the defense and special teams in the NFC North.

Part 1 of the series (offense) was at Go Long last week.

I want NFL longform.

I want to gift a sub!

Ty & Bob Pod is always accessible to paid subscribers. Here are our latest eps on the Bears’ loss to LA and the Packers’ loss to the Bears.

ALL-NFC NORTH TEAM

DEFENSE

DEFENSIVE LINE

1. JALEN REDMOND, Vikings: Last season, Redmond ranked a lowly 10^th on this list. “The best, most consistent player that came on all year was Redmond,” said one scout. “He was really good this year.” Played at Oklahoma and was undrafted. Went to training camp with Carolina in 2023. Played four games the following spring in the UFL. Played 208 snaps behind Jonathan Bullard, Harrison Phillips and Jerry Tillery in 2024 before emerging as the Vikings’ top big man with 793 snaps this year. “He’s their best lineman,” another scout said. “He’s a natural 3-technique, and that’s how he plays. He’s very disruptive. He gets into the gaps quick. He can put pressure on the quarterback. He runs down plays in the running game. He’s got a legitimate chance to be in the (Pro Bowl) at some point. He’s not a zero, 2 or a 4. He can’t two-gap to be successful. He’s a 3.” In 2023, he was 6-2 ½ and 292 and ran 4.86.

2. GERVON DEXTER, Bears: He led the Bears’ big men in snaps (665), tackles (43), sacks (six) and quarterback hits (11) while tying Andrew Billings for the lead in tackles for loss (six). “He’s got pass rush inside for a tall guy,” said one scout. “He does a really good job.” A second-round draft choice in 2023, he was 6-5 ½ and 314 and ran 4.97. His arms were short (32 ¼). “Below average,” said a second scout. “He’s kind of slow off the ball. He doesn’t have dominant moves. He doesn’t have an arsenal of pass-rush moves that you can use throughout a game. He doesn’t get off blocks easily or efficiently or powerfully. For where he was drafted and what he should be doing … I’m not a fan.”

3. Devonte Wyatt, Packers: Wyatt was having his best season as the Packers’ top defensive tackle supplanting Kenny Clark and T.J. Slaton when he suffered a season-ending injury in Game 12. “He played pretty well prior to getting injured,” said one scout. “Disruptive. He was fitting in well to that style of defense. He was a little bit inconsistent. Sometimes he can get rolled over in the run game. Sometimes he didn’t affect the passer as much as he should with his talent. There’s inconsistencies there with the talent.” He broke his fibula and tore a ligament in his ankle. “They really missed him,” another scout said. “He’s a talent. Strong and explosively quick. He’s grown insofar as really playing with the kind of effort you need to make a difference. He’s got enough quickness to be a threat rushing the passer. They missed his overall game. They also missed Clark and T.J. Slaton.”

4. Jonathan Allen, Vikings: Allen, who turned 31 on Jan. 16, departed Washington in March after eight seasons to sign a three-year, $51 million ($23.3M guaranteed) deal with Minnesota. He played 810 snaps, 17 more than Redmond, and made 68 tackles, six more than Redmond. Redmond had more sacks, tackles for loss, batted passes and turnover-causing plays. “He’s strong,” one scout said. “Still a good run player. Not much rush.” Allen made the Pro Bowl in 2021 and ’22. “Very unproductive,” a second scout said. “You like the leadership, you like all that stuff. But when he actually lined up and played he didn’t win many one-on-one matchups like he used to. Just line up and beat you off the ball and go make a play. He can’t do that anymore. They can’t afford to keep him.” Allen stands just 6-2 ½ but has 33 5/8 arms and ran 5.01 before being drafted in the first round (No. 17) in 2017.

5. Roy Lopez, Lions: Alim McNeill, DJ Reader, Tyleik Williams and Levi Onwuzurike all were ahead of Lopez at the start of training camp. But when McNeill struggled, Reader and Williams were mediocre and Onwuzurike missed the season following reconstructive knee surgery, Lopez surprisingly stepped up and became the team’s top interior player. “He was a great get for them this year,” one scout said. “He exceeded my expectations. He’s competitive, tough and instinctive, but he was a much better player and stouter than in the past. Not that he’s a pass rusher, but that part of his game was better than I thought it would be. He showed a little ability to get on an edge. He really excelled with the opportunity.” Drafted in the sixth round by Houston in 2021, he started 29 of 33 games from 2021-’22 and then 21 of 30 games for Arizona from 2023-’24. Despite playing 425 snaps, 158 fewer than Reader, his statistics were better in every category. Lopez will be unrestricted after the expiration of his one-year, $3.5 million ($3.33M guaranteed) contract.

6. Colby Wooden, Packers: He made 50 tackles in 17 games after totaling 37 in 30 games his first two seasons. “(Karl) Brooks played more through the blocker and Wooden around the blocker,” said one scout. “Wooden has that kind of quickness. But he gets rolled out of there. When he had to be an every-down guy, like Clark or Wyatt, teams came after him and he got rolled out of there.” Wooden was 6-4 and 283 in 2023 before being drafted in the fourth round. The Packers listed him at 273 this year that’s probably 30-40 pounds light.

7. DJ Reader, Lions: Reader probably is headed to unrestricted free agency after two seasons in Detroit and four each in Houston and Cincinnati. He will be 32 in July. “He had a really strong start to the season but by the end of the year wasn’t quite as good,” said one scout. “Maybe he wore down at the end. Still a big two-gap guy. He can really play stout. He’s becoming more of a situational guy than a true starter, but he’ll do the dirty work. He’s a tough guy and all that but at 31 you’re starting to see a little bit of (age).”

8. Grady Jarrett, Bears: A Pro Bowl pick in 2019 and ’20 during his decade with the Falcons, Jarrett moved to Chicago as a free agent in March for $42.75 million over three years ($27.3M guaranteed). In 14 games (four starts) he had 39 tackles (one for loss), 1 ½ sacks, three batted balls and eight quarterback hits. “His best is behind him,” one scout said. “I’ve been a big fan of his throughout his career. Loved his explosiveness. He was almost like a smaller Aaron Donald. But now he’s older (33 in April). He’s got a bad knee. He got hurt early in the season. He really was fighting an uphill battle since then. He’s just not giving that spark or that penetration that comes with his reputation. A real pro. Great enthusiasm. Good work ethic. It’s just unfortunate that in football your body breaks down.” In 2016, he was 6-0 ½ and 308.

9. Javon Hargrave, Vikings: He’ll be 33 in February after playing for the Steelers from 2016-’19, the Eagles from 2020-’22 and the 49ers from 2023-’24. He has 49 career sacks but only 3 ½ were with the Vikings this season. “They paid him a lot of money and they got little productivity,” one scout said. “He played way too high. He was coming off high and they just moved him wherever they wanted him to go. They can’t afford to keep him.” Hargrave (6-1 ½, 305) signed a two-year, $30 million deal ($19M guaranteed) to leave San Francisco. He finished with 537 snaps, but his playing time decreased as the season wore on largely because teams discovered Hargrave could be run at and the Vikings had to react.

10. Tyleik Williams, Lions: He played all 17 games, starting the first six and then just four of the last 11. The Lions drafted him No. 28 in April. “He’s very strong inside,” one scout said. “He hit maybe the rookie wall at midseason and his play slipped a little bit. Toward the end he picked it back up. He’s a two-gapper, not necessarily a pass rusher. He’s not going to be in there on rush downs or third down. He can be a really solid first- and second-down run player with upside as a rusher.” He had 18 tackles (two for loss) one sack, three quarterback knockdowns and four batted balls in 446 snaps. He’s 6-3 and 329, and has short arms (32).

11. Karl Brooks, Packers: He played even more snaps than Wooden (618 to 587) but made fewer tackles (28), had five fewer tackles for loss and posted one-half sack, down from four sacks in 2023 and 3 ½ in ’24. “In the past I would have taken Brooks over Wooden,” one scout said. “I think Wooden made more plays this year.” At 6-3 1/2, Brooks is one-half inch shorter than Wooden but plays taller, which caused him to struggle resisting double-team blocks. His short arms (31 ½) didn’t help, either.

12. Levi Drake Rodriguez, Vikings: A beneficiary of Hargrave’s loss of playing time was Rodriguez, whose total of 461 snaps was far more than his six in two games as a seventh-round draft choice in 2024. “He flashed a lot,” one scout said. “He’s got some quickness off the ball and can disrupt in the backfield. He got better as the year went on. To go with Redmond, he gave them some youthful legs and some aggression. He did get better.” He’s 6-2 and 300, and ran 5.01.

13. Alim McNeill, Lions: He was even less productive than Williams. In 524 snaps over 10 games, all starts, he finished with a mere 14 tackles (two for loss), one sack, three quarterback hits and one batted ball. In 2024, McNeill suffered a torn ACL that ended an excellent season. Still, he ranked as the No. 1 defensive lineman in the division. McNeill returned Oct. 20 against Tampa Bay, and his relentless, effective pass rush in that game was reminiscent of his pre-injury form. It must have been fresh legs because after that his performance was below average. “He came back less than a year later,” one scout said. “I didn’t think he was the same player. Maybe with having a healthy offseason and training camp he’ll kind of return to himself. You have to give him a little pass for not being his full self. You saw glimpses that he could still be an effective pass rusher and up-field player but you didn’t see it over the course of the season.” McNeill even played some big end in the 4-3 base defense.

14. Andrew Billings, Bears: In 511 snaps (17 games, 14 starts) he finished with 31 tackles (six for loss), one sack, no batted balls and five quarterback hits. “He’s overweight and out of shape,” one scout said. “He’s gotta be 360. He’s not a fit for a Dennis Allen-type defense. He wants guys that explode upfield and disrupt the backfield. Billings is not that. Billings is an old-school two-gapper. Hold up two offensive linemen and create a standstill and let your linebackers run free.” Chicago is his fifth team.

EDGE RUSHERS

1. MICAH PARSONS, Packers: Aidan Hutchinson had been the lead dog at this position until Aug. 28 when Green Bay traded two first-round draft choices and DT Kenny Clark to Dallas for Parsons. “It’s really close between those two,” one scout said.

Read more

Miss our three-part series in December 2023? All stories are unlocked to read, icymi:

• Part I: Blame Game

• Part II: Lost in translation

• Part III: Let Josh be Josh

We also sat down with McDermott toward the end of the 2024 season.

• ‘I bleed for that win:’ Our 1 on 1 with Buffalo Bills head coach Sean McDermott

Share Go Long

From the press conference:

More on the QB-HC dynamic:

Playoff losses are soul-crushing. Always. The reality that this opportunity won’t come for another 365 days — if you’re lucky — is paralyzing.

Year to year, no team in today’s NFL has experienced more agony than the Buffalo Bills.

After “13 Seconds,” to cap the 2021 season, players recall Stefon Diggs going ballistic in the locker room. “Every fucking time!” he screamed. “Every single fucking time!” After getting snowplowed by the Cincinnati Bengals, in 2022, the Bills were an emotionally deflated ghost of themselves. The sight of Damar Hamlin nearly dying on a football field a few weeks prior was traumatizing. After Wide Right II, in 2023, the sensation was disbelief. After the 2024 AFC Championship? More sadness. More shock. Dalton Kincaid was in tears after a fourth-and-5 prayer fluttered through his hands. He recalled sage vet Micah Hyde telling him to “fucking own it,” to “fucking suck up these tears” and face the press. He did. Everyone found a way to move on.

But this all felt like something different. The raw emotion from Sean McDermott’s eighth playoff loss resembled more of a finality. Joey Bosa slammed his helmet against the tunnel wall. Quarterback Josh Allen — a portrait of stoicism in pressers — broke down in tears. Dion Dawkins, upon hearing that Allen blamed himself, was quite literally speechless. McDermott went off on the officials. One last time, he invoked his love for the city — “I’m standing up for Buffalo, damn it” — and even called The Buffalo News from the team plane to vent.

All the epitome of a coach and a team that has officially run out of gas.

It was time.

After nine seasons as the Bills’ head coach, McDermott has been fired. In a statement, owner Terry Pegula announced that Brandon Beane would serve as both the president of football operations and general manager. Pegula said Beane would “oversee all facets of our football operation, including the oversight of our coaching staff.”

McDermott’s place in Bills history is secure. He finished 98-50 in the regular season for a sparkling winning percentage of .662, good for 15^th all-time. He ended this franchise’s gloomy 17-year playoff drought and won five straight division titles. One day, he’ll have the honor of shouting “Where else would you rather be?!” into a pregame microphone. News of his firing struck an emotional chord with fans. Even McDermott’s detractors insist the man sincerely woke up every morning with the best intentions — he was driven to bring a title to this title-starved city. He viewed his presence here as a calling from a higher power. Intentions, however, do not guarantee success. Because even McDermott’s greatest supporters must admit his ceiling is clear.

Buffalo boasts one of this generation’s greatest talents and has nothing to show for it.

No coach in NFL history has won more playoff games (eight) without a Super Bowl appearance. No quarterback in NFL history has also won more playoff games (eight) without a Super Bowl appearance than Josh Allen.

Allen, the reigning MVP, turns 30 in May.

Owner Terry Pegula needs to inject new life into his franchise before it’s too late.

This was always the difficult decision he needed to make. We obviously wrote an extensive series on the coach in December 2023. To his credit, McDermott tried to evolve the last two years. Buffalo fell short two more times, so he’s out. Rare is the coach who breaks through with a team to win it all in Year 10 or beyond.

On Monday, Go Long chatted with sources with direct knowledge of this decision.

Here’s why the Bills finally moved on from McDermott.

Read more

Share

By Bob McGinn

An assured first-year coach, a maturing second-year quarterback and a vastly improved offensive line carried the Chicago Bears and their grateful fans to unexpected heights this season.

Still, the Bears would do well to consider their foe across Lake Michigan, which at this time a year was coming off not one but two NFC North titles amid speculation that the Detroit Lions might place the division in a stranglehold for the foreseeable future.

As the Bears charged from worst to first as the Lions fell from first to worst. In the 58-year history of divisional play just seven other teams had gone from last place to first place in the NFC North and its predecessor, the NFC Central Division.

As exhilarating as the ride has been in Chicago behind coach Ben Johnson and quarterback Caleb Williams, there’s ample reason for the Lions, Green Bay Packers and Minnesota Vikings to think they’re equally as capable as the Bears entering 2026 and beyond.

“If I was to predict (the division) next year I don’t know who I’d pick at this point,” an NFC personnel man said. “It’s a logjam 100%. If Detroit’s injuries heal up they could win it. Green Bay, if Micah (Parsons) is right, they definitely could win it. They could have won it all (Super Bowl) if he was healthy this year.

“Chicago? Who knows? Two years ago you’d have thought not a chance, but now they’ve got a chance. They got an offense; they’ve just got no defense. Three teams know who their quarterback is and one doesn’t. The Vikings have a young quarterback they’re going forward with. Either way it goes, they let go of some quality quarterbacks that are starting for other teams to stick with a guy that can’t stay on the field.”

Not only does the NFC North have top-notch quarterbacks in Detroit’s Jared Goff, Green Bay’s Jordan Love and Williams but also four established general managers and four winning coaches.

No division can equal the division’s stable, successful coaching ranks with Johnson (12-6, .667) concluding Year 1in Chicago, Matt LaFleur (79-46-1, .631) entering his eighth season in Green Bay, Kevin O’Connell (43-27, .614) entering his fifth season in Minnesota and Dan Campbell (50-38-1, .567) entering his sixth season in Detroit.

The NFC North this year was the second division in history to have every team post a winning record: Chicago at 11-6, Green Bay at 9-7-1, Minnesota at 9-8 and Detroit at 9-8. The AFC North in 2023 was the other.

The division’s overall record of 38-29 was second best among the eight. It followed on the heels of the best record in 2024 (45-23) and a 35-33 record in 2023 that tied for second.

When it comes to Super Bowls, however, the NFC North has nothing to brag about. Since Minnesota advanced to four Super Bowls from 1969-’76, the division has had merely five finalists in the last 48 years. The Bears won in 1985 and lost in 2006; the Packers won in 1996 and 2010 while losing in 1997, the Vikings haven’t been back and the Lions have never been there.

Since the Mike McCarthy-coached, Aaron Rodgers-quarterbacked Packers earned a ring in 2010, no NFC North team has played in the Super Bowl. The AFC South hasn’t had a Super Bowl entrant in that 14-year span, either, whereas the AFC West (four champs) and NFC West (two champs) each have had seven teams play in the Super Bowl. The AFC East has had five (three champs), the NFC East has had four (three champs), the NFC South has had three (one champ) and the AFC North has had two (one champ).

The Bears, the last man standing in the NFC North this year, will continue their bid for the Super Bowl in a divisional playoff game against the L.A. Rams.

“You feel good about the division overall,” said one scout. “But you also say, ‘I don’t know if any of these guys can win it.’ I don’t think they can.”

The difficulty of forecasting one year to the next in the NFL was made abundantly clear in July. That’s when Jeremy Fowler and his colleagues at ESPN surveyed league executives, coaches and scouts in what was their sixth annual ranking of the 10 best current players at 11 different positions.

Assigning 10 points for a first-place ranking, nine for a second and so forth, I broke the vote down by team. You would think having better players would mean having better teams, but that definitely wasn’t the case by the end of the season.

Of the top eight teams in points, just two made the playoffs and their overall record was 67-68-1. Of the bottom eight teams in points, six made the playoffs and their overall record was 81-55. Jacksonville, which finished 13-4, didn’t have a player make the top 10 at any position.

For the record, the Lions totaled 52 points in the ESPN survey, third overall, compared to 15 for both Green Bay and Minnesota, and 13 for Chicago.

How crazy was the NFC North? The Bears won the title but finished last within the division at 2-4. Since 2000, only one other NFL team (Kansas City, 2010) won its division with a losing record in the division. And the Lions finished last in the division but their point differential of plus-68 was the best.

“You never know what change will happen year to year but I think our teams are really talented,” one NFC executive said. “Depending on what happens in free agency and the draft you could see any one of those teams taking the next step. If you lose a coordinator or have unlucky health or some kind of regression from a major player … other than that I think it will be a battle for years to come.”

The worst to first club in the division (NFC Central 1967-1981, 1983-2001; NFC North 2002-2025) numbered seven until the current Bears made it eight. Let’s take a peek at the first seven.

• Minnesota, 1968: Stocked with talent from the exceptional drafts of 1967 and ’68, coach Bud Grant vaulted from 3-8-3 and last place in 1967 to 8-6 and first place in 1968. The dynasty in Green Bay was kaput without Vince Lombardi. Grant went on to win 10 division crowns in 11 years. Joe Kapp, a refugee from the Canadian Football League as was Grant, was the Purple’s macho quarterback.

• Green Bay, 1972: Having replaced Phil Bengtson in 1971, Dan Devine drove his ball-control offense from 4-8-2 in 1971 to the top at 10-4 with assistant coach Bart Starr calling the plays. Running backs John Brockington and MacArthur Lane did the heavy lifting and Scott Hunter did the handing off. The next year, quarterbacks Jerry Tagge, Jim Del Gaizo and Hunter produced 5-7-2. Green Bay wouldn’t win the division again for 23 years.

• Tampa Bay, 1979: Baptized in 1976, the Buccaneers were 0-14 as an orphan of the AFC West in 1976 before being reassigned the next year to the NFC Central, where they would remain until realignment in 2002. In 1977, they were last at 2-12. In 1978, they were last at 5-11. Then came 1979, when coach John McKay combined a relentless defense featuring defensive end Lee Roy Selmon, strong-armed Doug Williams, punishing runner Ricky Bell and a favorable schedule to finish 10-6 for a divisional title. The Bucs barged to the NFC Championship Game before falling to the Rams, 9-0. In 1980, Bell was hurt a lot and the result was 5-10-1. They won it again in 1981 with a 9-7 record.

• Detroit, 1993: Many forget that the Lions made the NFC Championship Game in 1991 before bowing out in Washington. After a 5-11 meltdown in 1992, quarterback Erik Kramer saved an offense that sorely missed Barry Sanders down the stretch. When they upset the Packers in the regular-season finale the Central was theirs at 10-6. Six days later, again at the Silverdome, Favre-to-Sharpe abruptly extinguished their playoff hopes. Although the Lions made the playoffs in 1994, they wouldn’t win the division again for 30 years.

• Chicago, 2001: This division title required an eight-game jump, largest for the worst-to-first bunch. Under third-year coach Dick Jauron, the Bears finished 13-3 after limping home 5-11 in 2000. What happened? Marty Booker caught 100 passes, Anthony Thomas rushed for 1,183 yards behind a terrific offensive line, the defense amassed 48 sacks and the turnover differential was plus-13. A 33-19 loss to the Eagles in the playoff opener led to a 4-12 collapse in 2002.

• Chicago, 2005: Lovie Smith, off a 5-11 first season, guided the Bears to 11-5 in 2005. A defense ranked No. 24 in 2004 finished No. 2. Thomas Jones rushed for 1,335 yards and the defense (Brian Urlacher, Lance Briggs, Charles “Peanut” Tillman) took the ball away. After dropping their playoff opener to Carolina, 29-21, the Bears rebounded to reach the Super Bowl in 2006.

• Chicago, 2018: Inheriting a 5-11 outfit from John Fox, rookie coach Matt Nagy provided plenty of answers in a seven-game surge to 12-4 in 2018. Mitch Trubisky turned in a 95.4 passer rating in his second season. Khalil Mack, Akiem Hicks and Roquan Smith triggered a No. 3-ranked defense. The turnover differential was plus-12. Alas, the playoff opener went to the Eagles, 16-15. Nagy’s squad fell to 8-8 in 2019 and the Bears didn’t claim another division crown until this year.

The NFL structure, of course, is designed to promote parity. Coming off their third straight basement finish in 2024 the Bears benefited from playing a fourth-place schedule in which their opponents collectively were 131-155-3 (.459) this season. Next year, their first-place schedule includes opponents that were 158-129-2 this year, a .550 winning percentage that leaves Chicago with the NFL’s toughest schedule. Detroit’s fourth-place schedule in 2026 ranks 27^th at .467.

In the last five years all four NFC North teams have won the division. It leaves this breakdown of titles: Minnesota 21, Green Bay 17, Chicago 12, Detroit five and Tampa Bay, three.

Based on extensive interviews last week with four executives well-versed on the Bears, Lions, Packers and Vikings, the following is my All-NFC North Division team on offense. Defense and special teams will appear next week.

Go Long subscribers can access the scouts’ lengthy analysis in full below.

Thank you for supporting our independent pro football journalism.

Subscribe now

ALL NFC-NORTH TEAM

OFFENSE

WIDE RECEIVERS

1. JUSTIN JEFFERSON, Vikings: Finished with the fewest yards (1,048), fewest touchdowns (two) and lowest average per catch (12.5) in his stellar six-year career. “A lot of that was because of the quarterback position,” one scout said. “I didn’t see any dropoff in him.”

Read more

Share Go Long

Subscribe now

FOXBOROUGH, Mass. — Do not let the nature of his profession fool you. He barrels his 6-foot, 227-pound frame into defenders because he’s got no choice — life must gone on. Two wins from a Super Bowl, the New England Patriots need Rhamondre Stevenson now more than ever.

But his father died last March at the age 54. His father was also his best friend.

Once the scrum of cameras recede from his locker, I ask Stevenson how he managed to get past such a tragedy. He contemplates the question for a moment before answering with gutting honesty.

“I wouldn’t even say I’m over that,” Stevenson says. “I wouldn’t say I got over that yet. It’s a daily challenge because he was my best friend. I talked to him every day — a couple times a day — so it’s not something that’s easy to get over, something like that. Every day is different.”

NFL players may seem super human to all of us. They’re not.

In the spring, Stevenson’s world came crashing down.

This winter, he’s now one of the most important players in a divisional playoff game at Gillette Stadium. Stevenson is the one who’ll need to combat this voracious Texans defense in every way. He’ll cradle handoffs and slam into an alley toward those linebackers who’ve seen running backs past hide behind linemen. He’ll chip those hellacious edge rushers to protect the franchise: quarterback Drake Maye. And the best way to combat an ultra-attacking front is a screen game. New England will need Stevenson to slip behind Will Anderson Jr. and/or Danielle Hunter to catch a pass and hit the gas.

If the Patriots are going to advance to the AFC Championship Game, Stevenson will need to be the playmaker harpooning the best defense in football.

A reality nobody could’ve seen coming at two distinct lows in his life.

Nonetheless, he insists he always viewed this moment coming.

“I try to stay optimistic,” Stevenson says, “and it’s not really a surprise. We put the work in. Ever since OTAs, I knew we had a good chance to be in this position if we all stuck together and played relentless like we have.”

Father and son spoke before every game. A few words of encouragement from Robert were as routine as reviewing the final gameplan with coaches. They were exceptionally close.

Cause of death was never publicized, but it happened suddenly. Stevenson could not simply press the Resume button on life and pretend as if everything was fine. Little things help. He keeps his father’s memory alive in the form of a bracelet containing his ashes. Through those fragile weeks in the offseason, the Patriots organization also had his back.

Running backs coach Tony Dews flew out to Las Vegas to spend time with Stevenson.

His bond with offensive coordinator Josh McDaniels grew — this was his first OC as a rookie. And new head coach Mike Vrabel simply told Stevenson to come back whenever he was ready to play football again.

Today, Stevenson is the third-longest tenured member on the entire roster. It would’ve been awfully easy for Vrabel to swiftly move on to a new stable of running backs. New England drafted TreVeyon Henderson — a man who battled his own demons — in the second round of April’s draft. In 2024, Stevenson fumbled an NFL-high seven times. And into 2025, he put the ball on the ground three times in five games. That’s more habit than anomaly.

Nobody would’ve blamed Vrabel for either cutting Stevenson loose or banishing him to the doghouse entirely. After all, he sharpened this roster through attrition. Instead, the Patriots stuck with Stevenson. A toe injury sidelined him three games in November and he finished the season as arguably the most crucial weapon in McDaniels’ offense.

In his last six games, Stevenson has totaled 618 scrimmage yards with six touchdowns.

He was a load to bring down in New England’s 16-3 wild card win over the Los Angeles Chargers.

Dews has no clue what Stevenson was possibly feeling deep down inside over the offseason. The 52-year-old coach still has his own father. All he wanted to do was support his new back. He says he values mental health as a coach.

Of course, this season began with immediate turmoil. In Week 2, rookie kicker Andy Borregales missed two extra points against the Miami Dolphins. With 1:47 left, up three, Vrabel still green-lit a 53-yard attempt and Borregales drilled it. He hasn’t looked back. In Week 3, Stevenson’s two fumbles cost New England in a 21-14 loss to Pittsburgh. Afterward, Steelers head coach Mike Tomlin specifically pointed to Stevenson’s ball-security issues as a point of emphasis for his defense.

Exactly as they did back in March, the Patriots supported their back.

It’s paying off.

“He’s a great kid,” Dews says. “We could tell from the day we got here — the day I met him — that he loves this team, he loves this organization and he’ll lay his body on the line to do it.”

Rather than simply give up on a player, coaches watched Stevenson’s reaction to the fumbling. They liked the fact that he didn’t quit working in pass pro and was such a good teammate.

“He didn’t go in a tank,” Dews says, “and just hang his head — ‘woe is me.’ He still did the other things within the scheme, within the game to help the team win. And obviously our job as running backs is to take care of the football, but he’s also done a really good job in pass protection. He’s done a good job blocking down the field. He’s done a good job catching a ball out of the backfield. That ultimately gave us the comfort and the knowledge and helped us understand that he loves this organization. He’ll do whatever it takes to be successful. And he never complained, never griped, never not worked hard. He did everything the right way.”

Stevenson was built to weather this early storm.

Without divulging details, he assures his Dad went through far more in life than he ever will. There’s DNA at play.

And consider how Stevenson’s football odyssey began. No way did he think the NFL was a real possibility out of high school. At 18, he was academically ineligible to attend college, so he picked up two $10/hour jobs. One at Walmart, stocking shelves. One at Jimmy John’s, making subs. Yes, at their required “freaky fast” pace. The key to making those Turkey Toms and Big Johns so quickly? Good ‘ol fashioned training. He can still remember learning how to spread the mayo and slice up the veggies.

“I thought it was over for me,” Stevenson admits. “I thought I was going to find my niche in something. I knew Walmart and Jimmy Johns wasn’t my end goal, but just find my niche in something else.”

Granted, he didn’t know what that “niche” would be in life. He didn’t have a five-year plan.

That’s when Robert and his mother, Juran, stepped in. Both parents were adamant that he should not give up on football. As a junior in high school, Stevenson was named the Las Vegas Sun’s Player of the Year. He was first-team all state. A broken foot had ended his senior year after three games, further muddying his outlook.

One day, close friends and teammates Tishawn Barnaby and Juan Rodriguez told him about a JUCO four hours away: Cerritos College in Norwalk, Calif.

“I was there in a week’s notice,” Stevenson says. “The next Monday, I was there. Going out on a limb, trying to play football. My family had my back.”

The school couldn’t offer a scholarship. He’d need to pay his own way.

Not easy for Mom and Dad — they had seven children together.

Juran started working two full-time jobs at 72 hours a week and Robert even pulled money from their retirement accounts to help pay the out-of-state tuition costs. Stevenson did the rest. He embraced the grimy JUCO life off the field and rushed for a Madden-like 2,111 yards in 11 games on it as a sophomore. Good enough to warrant a scholarship at the University of Oklahoma where he’d average 110.8 yards per game during a COVID-shortened 2020 season.

Next thing he knew? One of the greatest coaches in the sport’s history, Bill Belichick, was drafting him in the fourth round of the 2021 NFL Draft. He has survived three different regimes, plenty of losing, personal anguish he may never overcome and, now, finds himself two games from playing in Super Bowl LX. The location of the big game (Santa Clara, Calif.) sure would be ideal for his family.

First, these Patriots must win this weekend.

New England had the easiest strength of schedule in the NFL this season.

Houston had the most difficult.

Expect a brawl. Big plays will be at a premium. Stevenson is impressed by this defense that simply lines up and plays with no deception. “They’re confident in their guys,” he says, “they’re confident in what they do.” The best antidote for such an ultra-aggressive, ultra-attacking defensive front is a timely screen pass. Stevenson should have an opportunity to catch a short pass and rumble upfield.

Rookie wideout Kyle Williams is smart to say the Patriots must play this game on their own terms. Still, there’s no finessing this opponent. Whether it’s a straight-ahead power play on the ground or YAC in the open field, Stevenson will be the one meeting linebacker Azeez Al-Shaair or safety Jalen Pitre in the open field. All of these Texans defenders feast on fear. It’s on Stevenson to lower his shoulder pads and establish a physical tone.

It’s on Stevenson to throw a devastating punch of his own that sends a message.

“Any play we run,” the 27-year-old back says, “anything Josh runs, we can make it go. No matter what the play is.”

McDaniels has only grown closer to Stevenson over the years.

At the podium this week, he sounded more like a proud father.

“I know what 'Mondre’s gone through, but I know who Mondre is and where he comes from,” McDaniels says. “I know what his family’s like. And it’s super rewarding for me as a coach to watch him have success and continue to do the things that he does. He’s a better person than he is a player and he’s a really good football player.”

He doesn’t know when — or if — he’ll ever get past the death of his father. Grief cannot be controlled or manipulated. Rhamondre Stevenson has good days and bad days.

All he knows is that he’s at peace with the ball in his hands.

That’s enough right now.

Refer a friend

Give a gift subscription

Notes ‘n quotes…

— The man calling New England’s defense, ILB coach Zak Kuhr, is very familiar with the heartbeat of those Texans visiting on Sunday. Kuhr spent the 2023 season as Al-Shaair’s position coach.

If anyone on the Patriots offense wants to know what it’s like to face this player, they can ask him. He lit up when we asked about Al-Shaair’s game.

“He’s going to come try to hit you,” Kuhr says. “I love Azeez. We still talk. Great relationship. Great leader. Great teammate. Smart. Physical. Great motivator. His teammates love him. A guy who might be having a tough time, he can really bring him out of that. He knows everybody’s name in the building, no matter what job they have. And he’s an aggressive style of player that has a lot of savvy and he knows their system. He was with DeMeco in San Francisco. I can’t say enough good things about Azeez.”

— Will Campbell’s passion is undeniable. Moments after the Patriots made him the fourth overall pick in the ‘25 draft, through tears, he vowed to “fight and die” for his new quarterback, Drake Maye. His playoff debut was up and down. Campbell was beaten by edge rusher Odafe Oweh for one strip-sack. At his locker, he fired back at online criticism for his play: “I don’t give a shit what anyone says, to be honest with you. It’s easy to type behind a Twitter account that is fake. I hold myself to the highest expectation of anybody. I want to be perfect, and it’s hard for me to get told that it’s going to be hard to be perfect. The Chargers, obviously I didn’t pitch a shutout. I had two or three plays I wish I could have back. But that’s $300 million in defensive ends.”

It’s only going to get harder for the 6-foot-6, 319-pounder out of LSU.

The Texans will throw different bodies at him throughout the game. Campbell did face Anderson back in his early SEC days with the Tigers.

Doug Marrone, the Patriots’ offensive line coach, says the best players he’s ever been around are the ones who don’t dwell on a bad play. That’ll be key for Campbell. He’s bound to get beat at some point.

“Those players tend to have a greater success rate than the one that goes back in the huddle and goes, ‘Oh, I can’t believe that happened. What am I going to do?’” Marrone says. “You see it in these top-end athletes in this whole league, that’s been going on for a while where I think you do need to forget that because there’s no need to worry about the last one. It’s done. All you can do is move on to the next one. So what are you going to do on the next one to get yourself ready?

“Stuff’s going to happen. Everyone’s a pro. I’ve seen the greatest of great players get beat and they come back the next play and they go at it just as hard. It’s an important quality that you need to have to be successful or to have a long career in this league.”

— Could one of the smallest players left in the playoffs make a big impact? Demario “Pop” Douglas is 5 foot 8, 180 pounds. The runt of the football litter from Pop Warner to high school to college to the pros, Douglas says he’s been dreaming of these playoff games his entire life.

Douglas can still remember college coaches visiting him as a Jacksonville prep. It didn’t matter that he racked up 1,700 all-purpose yards. They flat-out told him he was too short to even be considered. Douglas declines to put specific coaches on blast, but assures he got revenge in college on Liberty’s football team.

Perhaps he’s the player McDaniels schemes up for a shot play in this one.

In New England, Douglas has carved out a niche as a timely weapon in this diversified passing attack. He caught 31 balls for 447 yards with three scores in the regular season.

“I just work hard,” Douglas says. “This wasn’t given. Definitely with my height, I’ve got to work harder than others. I won’t let nobody outwork me. I always had that out-work mentality to always outwork anybody in front of me. Competing.”

Links:

• Pod: Drake Maye meets the ‘savages’

• ‘Who’s willing to shed blood?’ Hard coaching makes a comeback

• ‘We’re savages:’ The Houston Texans’ defense aims for history

• Mark your calendar: Isaiah McKenzie is BACK for an NFL Playoffs Happy Hour

• Real Football: Mile High Moment of Truth

• Ty & Bob S4 E17: Autopsy look at the Green Bay Packers’ wild-card calamity in Chicago

• Hall of Fame pits greats against each other

• And then there were EIGHT: On Cole Bishop & Bills D delivering, Caleb/Maye, John Schneider’s mastery, more

• Matt LaFleur, the Green Bay Packers and the art of a choke

• It’s Year 9. The Bills (again) have the talent to reach the Super Bowl, but will they?