Disclaimer: The statements and opinions regarding players and/or potential future players in the article below are those of the AtlantaFalcons.com editorial staff and are not of the Atlanta Falcons' football personnel unless noted in a direct quote.
FLOWERY BRANCH, Ga. — Within five minutes of NFL Network's Ian Rapoport breaking the news that the Atlanta Falcons were reportedly releasing longtime defensive tackle Grady Jarrett, I had received no less than 25 messages. My phone buzzed in my hand for what felt like the entirety of those five minutes. Over and over texts from people across the country came in. The main sentiment (regardless of anyone's allegiance) was this:
"No. Not Grady."
The release of Jarrett after a decade with the team that drafted him — and a community that helped raise him as a kid from Conyers, Georgia — is a harsh reminder of the NFL business. The Falcons were able to save north of $16 million in cap space by releasing Jarrett. Now, Jarrett is free to sign where he pleases, and he should be a respectable option for a team in need of leadership and talent along their defensive front.
It's strange, though, knowing that the next time anyone sees Jarrett it won't be in a Falcons uniform. It won't be in Mercedes-Benz Stadium. We won't hear Dave Archer's "you shall not pass" radio call again. This feels eerily similar to the day the Falcons traded Matt Ryan to the Indianapolis Colts. It feels like the closing of a chapter, a chapter that felt like it would never really end — and honestly, you were OK with that, because you loved the characters you read about. You connected with them. You got in their head. You related to them. Maybe you saw yourself in them. You rooted for them. You saw them get knocked down. You saw them get back up. You cared.
And I find that in the aftermath of the reported release, it's difficult to find the right words to encompass what Jarrett specifically meant to the organization, to the city of Atlanta, to all the teams he's been a part of for a decade.
I have actually found myself going back to something I already wrote. If you remember, the entire Falcons digital team embarked on a journey last year to document Jarrett's return to the gridiron for his 10th year in the league. At the time, we didn't know that year would be his last in a Falcons' uniform. I don't think that was on anyone's mind as we watched Jarrett work through his rehab or contemplate his legacy.
In the final story of the three I wrote for the project, I put words to what this all meant. Looking back, those words carry even more weight now.
A season-ending knee injury took his ninth season away from him. It sent him into a period of heightened emotion and reflection through the changes he was experiencing. Looking back, though, it was a time that taught him how much this game of football means to him.
What's special about Jarrett's story, though, isn't that he experienced a season-ending injury and is mounting a return. In a league where a player's average life span is only 3.3 years, he's not the first or the last to experience a season cut short.
What's special about Jarrett's story is that he hasn't just been a mainstay within an organization for 10 years. He's been one of the best to do it at his position during that time frame. That, and he's done it for his hometown team.
He's been to Pro Bowls. He's tied the Super Bowl record for most sacks in a single game. He's been named to the NFL Top 100 list three times. For the Atlanta organization he's spent his entire career with, he's third all-time in tackles for a loss, second in quarterback hits (one away from tying John Abraham's franchise record) and 10th in sacks. He was the Falcons' Walter Payton Man of the Year in 2019 (and again in 2024) for the work he's done in the communities that helped raise him.
Over 10 years time, names and faces about the organization have changed. Players have entered and exited the locker room. Coaches have come, gone and returned, too.
Only a select few names have been consistent. Jarrett's is one of them.
As Jarrett and I sat together for the final interview of the project, we talked about his legacy.
We were in the locker room at Mercedes-Benz Stadium. To get the look we wanted, the lights were off except for the two focused on Jarrett. Even then, the moment felt symbolic. In that conversation we actually did talk about the days he wouldn't be a Falcon any longer. He made a joke about not having any guaranteed money left on his contract. We laughed together when he held up his hands and crossed his fingers and said, "hopefully I'm still on the team."
Today's news feels improbable to those two individuals sitting in the quiet of an environment that is ruckus on a game day. But the reflections and wisdom of which Jarrett spoke that day applies to this moment.
If Jarrett's most recent challenges have taught him anything, it's that this game, this business of the NFL, goes on without you. No matter how hard you work, no matter how many years you're in it, when it's over for you, it doesn't end for everyone else.
Just like life, the game continues.
"As hard as you fight to make a name, to be remembered," Jarrett said, "they'll forget you just as fast."
That reality can be grueling. Cruel even. But it doesn't change the fact that this is, indeed, the reality. If you're going to face it, you might as well fight it.
"While you have the opportunity to do what you do, do your best, try to be legendary, try to be one of them ones," Jarrett explained. "Because there's going to come a day when you can't go no more, and you want to be clear in knowing that you left your best everything out there. And your legacy will speak for itself."
I don't think Jarrett needs me contemplate to his legacy for him. I think it's already cemented, and was well before today — the day of his release from the team. He doesn't need me to tell you all of the reasons why you should remember him and what he did for the Falcons and the community at large. You probably already know. He doesn't need me to relay to you all of his stats and sacks. You can look those up. Heck, you probably can spout them off the top of your head.
I say all of this because if I know anything about Jarrett, it's that he's not done yet. I actually think his release is evidence of that.
And regardless of where he goes next, or what team he ultimately plays for, he is still Atlanta through and through. If I was a betting woman, I would put a lot of money on Jarrett continuing every effort to give back to Atlanta and her broader communities. This has been — and always will be — home for him and his family. And that's not something I am guessing about. It's something he told me that day in that empty locker room last summer.
I don't know what Jarrett would want or need from me. I truly doubt there is much of anything I could provide. I guess the simplest but most profound words I could give him are these:
"Thank you, Grady. Your legacy does indeed speak for itself."
