Jason Kelce's career started as a college walk-on and ended with Hall of Fame bonafides
Jason Kelce was never supposed to be here.
“Here” is a place in the middle of the Philadelphia Eagles’ offensive line for 13 seasons. “Here” is the featured attraction of the Eagles’ Super Bowl parade, dressed like a mummer and delivering an all-time pro wrestling promo to a delirious crowd of Philly fans. “Here” is the brink of the Hall of Fame, where he’ll eventually land after five to 10 years.
But, most importantly for our purposes today, “here” is the middle of a long-awaited press conference where he tearfully announced he’s retiring from football.
Kelce was more than the man at the center of the Eagles offense, snapping the ball to quarterbacks ranging from Michael Vick to Jalen Hurts. He was proof underdogs could win. He was proof you didn’t have to fit a certain mold to thrive as long as you put in the work. He was proof destiny may be in our DNA, but it doesn’t manifest solely as a batch of physical attributes.
Jason Kelce meets with the media to discuss his future. https://t.co/x1Zb6eJWBA
— Philadelphia Eagles (@Eagles) March 4, 2024
Kelce is yet another reason to believe in ourselves. This is a man who walked onto the University of Cincinnati Bearcats as a running back. He moved to fullback, then center while living exactly the kind of life you’d expect from a frat-adjacent football non-star. He worked his way into the starting lineup living in a flophouse filled with walls he’d punched through. He showed up to St. Patrick’s Day spring practices with water bottles filled with Irish whiskey.
He played his way into the starting lineup at Cincinnati, then into All-Big East honors (twice). He was gritty and undersized and slid all the way to the sixth round of the 2011 NFL Draft. He came into training camp penciled in as Philadelphia’s third-string center and then started every game of his rookie year.
He, incredibly, got better as he got older. He was a six-time All-Pro and every one of those honors came after he’d turned 30 years old. 28 offensive linemen were drafted ahead of him; he outlasted all but one — Dallas Cowboys future Hall of Famer Tyron Smith. He played a decade longer than the Eagles’ first-round pick that year, fellow interior lineman Danny Watkins.
Throughout it all, the only thing that changed about Kelce was the caliber of his game.
This was a man that didn’t transform who he was to be what he knew he could be. He showed up to his own retirement press conference in workout gear. I’d say he wore his heart on his sleeve, as is his tradition, but he wasn’t wearing any — as is his tradition. He came into the league unapologetically Jason Kelce. He leaves it unapologetically Jason Kelce, only with a lot more fans.
When he was on the field, Kelce was the NFL’s biggest proponent in believing in yourself. He didn’t have to change who he was; he just kept grinding until he found the right fit. And if he can go from unwanted walk-on running back who snuck whiskey into water bottles to Hall of Famer, surely the rest of us can figure our stuff out.
That, as much as the space-clearing blocking and the “[expletive] my life” tush push, is Kelce’s real legacy.