Our 2026 NFL Season Preview Features continue with an emotional look at one of the most important players in the NFC North. Lineman Tate Ratledge represents a rare look into the psychology of an NFL player. It pays to be so bulletproof, so “numb” at this day job. It’s also part blessing and part curse. Ratledge does not believe in mental health. He sheds no tears.
The Detroit Lions are counting on him in 2026.
Subscribers can access our latest longform in full. Thank you for supporting independent journalism. Our two-part series on Kyler Murray and the Minnesota Vikings is also available here, icymi.
ALLEN PARK, Mich. — Clouds darken overhead when it’s time to discuss the worst moment of his life. A storm’s coming. Fitting. Tate Ratledge lifts himself off a chair near the practice field, we stride toward the door and, by the time he ducks into the Detroit Lions’ facility, a light drizzle has strengthened into a torrential downpour.
Walking through the hallway, as country music blares, the 25-year-old guard mentions a honeymoon on tap. This minicamp will wrap up and it’s off to St. Lucia. In typical newlywed fashion, this new husband hasn’t packed a single item yet.
Ratledge takes a right turn, onto the Lions’ indoor field, plops atop a massive plyo box, tears off the tape around each finger and picks up exactly where he left off. Good times were had in Athens, Ga. The best times. This is where a boy became a man and he won two national championships. It’s also where he suffered the greatest loss of his young life.
He exhales deeply and starts the only place he can.
With the parade.
The Georgia Bulldogs were fresh off a 65-7 College Football Playoff National Championship win over Texas Christian. A thrashing that capped a perfect 15-0 season and catapulted this program to a new realm — back-to-back champs. They were on top of the football world. Five days later, it was time to celebrate. “The whole city of Athens,” Ratledge details, “is flooded with people.” Roughly 50,000 in all. Ratledge was perched on the back of a fire truck with three teammates. Sirens blared. Horns honked. Locals screamed and pumped fists and pointed toward the most unlikely best friends. Ratledge, from the deep country of Tennessee, sifted fingers through his signature mullet. Devin Willock, from New Jersey, in dreads, hoisted his cell phone high into the sky to capture the scenes himself.
All both linemen could see was mass humanity on both sides of the street.
“Unbelievable,” Ratledge says. “What you dream of. There’s no telling how many people were there. You can’t ask for anything better. An ocean of people from all over the state there just to see you drive by on a car. Which is insane.”
That evening, Willock posed for pictures with a young fan at Texas Roadhouse and let the boy try on his enormous championship ring.
That night, college kids then did what college kids do — drank, partied, reveled in championship glory. Ratledge remembers saying bye around 1:30 a.m. He told Willock that both he and Annabelle, his then-girlfriend, now-wife, were heading home. Ratledge dapped him up, said “I love you” and called an Uber. The school’s recruiting coordinator, Chandler LeCroy, was also hanging out with them all.
Memories replay. He pauses.
Ratledge’s exterior is an impenetrable fortress, a barricade that prevents all emotions, all sensitivities from ever seeing the light of day. The man never cries. Even then — briefly — he gets choked up, and takes a sip of water to collect himself. There’s sadness in his eyes with a tint of anger.
“They obviously get in the car,” Ratledge says, “and go somewhere. I’m going to say something I shouldn’t.”
Then, he continues.