The source of Jonathan Greenard's destruction
What drives the Philadelphia Eagles' new edge rusher? He was handpicked to destroy defenses in the NFC. Here's a look back to when Jonathan Greenard explained in full to Go Long.
Miss our latest profile? Go Long traveled to Philadelphia to sit down with Drew Mukuba, a man whose upbringing in Zimbabwe prepared him for all guaranteed turbulence in this city. (And Vic Fangio.)
Two years back, subscribers may recall this piece on the Vikings. In light of Jonathan Greenard’s trade to the Eagles this offseason, we figured we’d reprise and tweak a chunk of that story below.
I caught up with Greenard 1 on 1 in 2024 to see what makes him tick. Philly is betting big on the pass rusher to deliver this season.
EAGAN, Minn. — The chieftain of a ransacking defense takes a seat on a leather sectional in the lounge area outside the locker room. Piece by piece, he starts removing his body armor. There’s the 2XL gloves. There’s the bulky arm brace that resembles something those literal Viking tribesmen wore in the 10th century. Jonathan Greenard tears apart the tape covering his hands and drops the remains into a pile at his feet.
Scars cover his knuckles. A pronounced 2 ½-inch scar is on top of his right hand.
The purple thread on that “V” of his practice jersey is tearing off.
His winter beard is coming in early.
All smiles here, he’s been all pain for opposing quarterbacks. Greenard pinpoints the first domino that tipped in his football life, the moment that led to all destruction we see. He was 5 years old in Hiram, Ga. Playing the glory positions in Pop Warner — running back and linebacker — eyes were always fixated on him. Especially those of his father. That early, Dad would film his games on a camcorder and then the duo meticulously broke down the footage. If Greenard showed any weakness? If he let a smaller player hit him? Dad showed no mercy. It didn’t matter if Jonathan took a handoff 70 yards to the house in the same game.
Once Dad took over as coach, he handed film duties over to Jonathan’s sister. His critiques were never confined to what happened between the whistles, either. Mack Greenard Jr. would catch a “lackadaisical” Jonathan chewing his mouthpiece and lose it. “What are you doing?!” he’d ask. “Fix your pants or something. Look like a football player. Don’t look like a fucking kid out there.” Jonathan’s older brother played center which meant Mack would often set up pass-rushing drills in the middle of the kitchen. Dad beckoned “You better go as hard as you can!” and they’d work to an all-out sweat as dinner went cold.
Of course, this was only the beginning. Greenard would soon get tested in more profound ways throughout his life.
He knows he’s not sitting here without those roots.
“Kids don’t like to be coached or held accountable,” Greenard says, “and I feel like my Dad was that one who did. I’m that same person that I was as a child wanting to be the best, wanting to make sure I critique every little thing about my game.”
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Greenard was the Minnesota Vikings’ keynote signing before the 2024 season.
Two years later? He’s the keynote addition to a sterling Philadelphia Eagles defense.
The trade makes sense for both parties. The Vikings needed cap flexibility and have Dallas Turner, a 17th overall pick, ready for more snaps. The Eagles lost Jaelan Phillips in free agency to Carolina and wanted a Tier 1 edge rusher. GM Howie Roseman shipped off a pair of third-rounders to the Vikes and inked Greenard to a four-year, $98 million extension. With Jalen Carter and Jordan Davis caving the interior of the line, Greenard should see plenty of opportunities to wreck offenses. Both mammoth defensive tackles force offenses to slide protections, audible pre-snap and play on their heels.
Greenard has been spending time watching film with both players.
Now, Philly is banking on the Greenard of 2024 — 12 sacks, 42 pressures, 22 QB hits — taking another step.
Long before film sessions with his new Eagles teammates, yes, Greenard heard it all from his father.
All Jonathan wanted to do was relax between snaps as a 5-year-old and Dad wasn’t having it. Mack Greenard Jr. told him the offense might snap the ball when he’s fussing around with his mouthguard. Jonathan never met his grandfather but he’s positive Dad’s hardnosed discipline came from his own father’s time with the Navy. Youth football could feel militaristic at times.
Hard as Dad could be, he’d still spoil his youngest child. If Jonathan scored a couple touchdowns, he’d get a new video game. He calls himself the “baby” of the lot who got everything he wanted.
There was a ton of love. Tough love.
“If I didn’t have that and I was just allowed to do everything I wanted to do,” Greenard says, “who knows where the hell I’d be.”
All while Dad dealt with his own demons as a functioning alcoholic. He wasn’t physically or verbally abusive. Nor was he over-the-top “shit-faced,” son says. Simply, there was always a drink in his hands and he smoked cigarettes frequently. Looking back, Jonathan knows that’s why Dad pushed his three kids so hard. He didn’t want them making the mistakes.
Gradually, his health deteriorated.
By Jonathan’s freshman of high school, Dad could hardly walk. Diabetes started to develop and both his hip and knee went bad. It got harder and harder for Mack to attend his son’s games into 10th and 11th grade. After that junior season — when Jonathan still had zero D-I offers — Dad called him on the phone. His cough was hoarser this time and he admitted he was getting sick. The kids didn’t think much of it because Dad always bounced back. One week later, Mack was found unresponsive in his house.
Medics were able to revive him but when Jonathan got to the hospital on this Saturday in March 2014, he noticed a new emotion in his father: Fear.
“He was scared,” Greenard says. “That was the first time I saw my dad really scared. Like he had no control. You could see it in his eyes.”
Dad’s kidneys shut down and he got jaundice. His eyes were yellow.
The very next day, Greenard’s family needed to leave church ASAP. Dad’s health was nosediving. They all rushed over to the hospital and Jonathan can still picture his aunt in tears. The End was near. The next morning, Jonathan received the news while getting ready for school: His father had died from congestive heart failure. Mom was at work but thankfully his stepfather, Washington Varnum Jr., was in the house. Varnum gave Jonathan a huge hug.
Sixteen years old at the time, Greenard stayed at home and cried all day.
“That fucked me up,” Greenard says. “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to think.”
The following morning, he could hear his Dad’s voice in his head. The same one imploring him to hit someone on the football field as a tyke.
He wiped his tears away and went to school.
“The world had to continue on,” Greenard says. “I had to continue to live a purpose out in my life and understand that wasn’t everything. As close as I was to him — from that point on — I had to take everything with a grain of salt. Understand that it’s OK to deal with emotions and feel what you feel, but then there’s a point in time where you have to press on. The show goes on and, honestly, if you’re being real, nobody cares. When you go through things, people care to a certain extent. But when you get to this point where everybody’s job is relying on you to do your job, you have to find a way to put those things to the side. You have to find a way to maneuver and be the best version of yourself because it’ll eat you up.”
Wallowing in sadness wouldn’t accomplish a thing.
Greenard pressed on with Varnum assuming a greater role in his life.
He fought his way onto Louisville’s football team and, here, you can see a distinct scar on his hand That’s from the first game of Greenard’s 2018 collegiate season. Against Alabama, he lasted all of six plays before tearing his wrist up and missing the entire year. The injury could’ve dashed pro hopes on the spot. Instead, he hatched a plan. He vowed to graduate… transfer to an SEC school… get drafted and that’s exactly what he did.
At Florida, in ’19, Greenard led the conference in both sacks (9.5) and TFLs (16).
That offseason into his rookie year, 2020, it was hard to find anywhere to work out through Covid lockdowns. The Houston Texans selected him 90th overall, a whole 88 selections after Ohio State’s Chase Young.
Then, after a quiet first season, more heartbreak rocked his world. On Feb. 1, 2021, Varnum passed away with Covid. A total shocker. And this was tough because Varnum was at his side this second phase of his life. Every step of college and the pros. “When he passed away,” Greenard adds, “it put it all even in more perspective.” Again, Greenard told himself to “keep pressing” and tried to take lessons from their crushing deaths. Unlike his biological father, Greenard has never smoked and rarely ever drinks. His stepfather was amazing — he’s still grateful for Varnum stepping up — but Greenard cites a poor diet.
That ’21 season, Greenard busted out with eight sacks. Through offseason foot surgery, he told himself: Nothing can stop you. And the greatest wake-up call of them all was finding out in January 2023 that he and his wife were having a baby. That’s when he repeated four words to himself: This has to work. The sight of his daughter served as a constant reminder that there was no other option. That ’23 season, Greenard racked up 52 tackles, 12.5 sacks, 22 quarterback hits and earned his whopper of a contract in Minnesota.
With the Vikings, he knew he’d have an opportunity to step in as a leader.
“I felt like my presence was going to be felt — not just on the football field but in the locker room and around everybody,” Greenard says. “The locker room was amazing. It worked out perfectly.”
Into ‘24, Greenard reached another level. The 6-foot-3, 259-pounder has always been slimmer than his contemporaries. For years, he was told he’s too small to play on the defensive line. Not strong enough.
Criticism he still hears today.
“You can look at me and say, ‘Easy day at the office,’” Greenard says. “OK, cool. You’ve got to see me all game. I love when I’m doubted. Being an underdog. I hate being overtalked. I hate being hyped up.”
Bittersweet emotions are inevitable. He lost two fathers in less than a decade and cannot imagine what they’d be thinking right now. The same Dad dissecting film of a 5-year-old juking defenders on camcorder video would beam as his son smiles for the camera while sacking quarterback Joe Flacco. There are many days Greenard wishes both were around to witness his ascent. Their deaths still hurt.
He never wants to be the reason “energy” in the building wanes because he takes pride in being a lightning bolt of positivity.
“Whenever you’re this person who’s high energy like I am all the time, as soon as you have a day where you’re just chilling — not even mad or sad — they’re going to think something’s wrong,” Greenard says. “And I don’t want that. I don’t want any pity parties at all. I always attack the day and try to be as positive as possible. Some days I fail at that.
“I’m human. It definitely does affect me. It still does.”
That’s when Greenard looks at his wife, his daughter and promises to do everything in his power to not only see her graduate from high school but see her kids graduate. He is effectively finding a way to use that pain for good.
His professional career is now peaking.
He received the coveted life-changing contract. He’s playing for a contender, surrounded by pros who’ll make his job easier. If Jonathan Greenard is everything Roseman expects — and asserts himself as one of the sport’s premier pass rushers — Philadelphia just may boomerang right back to a championship game.
