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:
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.
