I'll just say he's young and he might very well end up coming back after a year off. We will see. Not much of a chance, but there's a chance.
Gronk Retires
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Roberto71
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Tom Curran is trying to stir s**t again. His article on Gronk's retirement starts with a catalogue of how miserable Gronk was with the Pats this past couple of years. Claiming he felt undervalued, unwanted etc., not paid enough....
I don't believe any of it as it was Gronk himself who refused to be traded and said he would not play for any other coach or QB. And Peter King's article contradicts Curran as he talks about how Gronk's agent Drew Rosenhaus would routinely ask was there any way he could help make Gronks time with the Patriots any better, more money etc. Gronk said no and Rosenhaus even talked to Gronks dad and his dad said, "Drew, he's got more than enough money'"
What is it about some of the Sports Journalists in Boston? They seem so intent on knocking the team down.
I don't believe any of it as it was Gronk himself who refused to be traded and said he would not play for any other coach or QB. And Peter King's article contradicts Curran as he talks about how Gronk's agent Drew Rosenhaus would routinely ask was there any way he could help make Gronks time with the Patriots any better, more money etc. Gronk said no and Rosenhaus even talked to Gronks dad and his dad said, "Drew, he's got more than enough money'"
What is it about some of the Sports Journalists in Boston? They seem so intent on knocking the team down.
TD Catches Before the Age of 30
WR Randy Moss: 101
WR Jerry Rice: 93
TE Rob Gronkowski: 79
WR Lance Alworth: 77
WR Larry Fitzgerald: 77
WR Art Powell: 77
WR Calvin Johnson: 74
WR Randy Moss: 101
WR Jerry Rice: 93
TE Rob Gronkowski: 79
WR Lance Alworth: 77
WR Larry Fitzgerald: 77
WR Art Powell: 77
WR Calvin Johnson: 74
From Jeff Howe, TheAthletic
Rob Gronkowski was everything you wanted him to be.
This is true for you, the fans, who gobbled up every quirky moment of Gronk’s nine-season career, which ended Sunday upon his retirement announcement. He was the fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, party-boy, football-behemoth spectacle you adored on the field and envied off it during his Hall of Fame run with the Patriots.
That personality was genuine and never for the cameras; as you know, some personalities in the sports and entertainment industries are for the cameras.
He was also about community to the core. That’s what I always respected more than anything about Rob Gronkowski as I covered the duration of his career. I’ve covered the Patriots since 2009, and Gronk will be the first Gold Jacket I covered from start to finish. And rather than recycling the same stats that everyone on the planet can use to justify his future presence in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, I’d prefer to give you a firsthand look of what it was like to cover the man whose personality was borderline mythical and whose on-field performance was legendary.
For example, as the Patriots were forging through their 2019 season and ultimately trekking toward their Super Bowl LIII victory against the Rams, I pushed hard to write a feature about the impact Gronk has had in New England and even across the country. I wanted to tell the story through the voices of the families whose lives were brightened by a personal experience with Gronkowski, as he frequently dropped in to local hospitals to meet with kids, or showed up at a house or a school or seemingly anywhere they shined the Gronk signal into the sky. It actually took a couple of months to organize the whole story, but the effort was sparked by the notion that each of Gronk’s appearances was genuine.
I’ll never forget: During the 2014 offseason, after Gronk recovered from a torn ACL to the point where he could at least walk around comfortably, he strolled into the Patriots’ community affairs office and asked if he could help at any upcoming events. Even earlier, before the 2013 season was over and Gronk had even graduated from a wheelchair, he showed up unannounced to Boston Children’s Hospital in an elf costume to sing Christmas carols, visit rooms and brighten spirits.
He handed out turkeys, dressed up like a Christmas tree, played football on the Gillette Stadium game field with Make-A-Wish recipients, called high schools in mourning over tragedy, and on and on. He once attended an event at a local family’s house, and they wondered if he’d ever leave because he was having as much fun as all the kids.
I once asked Gronkowski how a certain child with an illness was doing. “In (State A)?” he asked. “No, (State B),” I replied. He’s impacted so many lives off the field that it can be difficult for him to keep them all organized on the fly. Another time, I relayed a message of gratitude from a family whom he’d helped, and he got choked up, noting that’s the greatest reward for him, hearing long after the fact how he could use his platform to help others in need.
Gronk was everything you wanted him to be in the locker room, too. The “69” jokes weren’t an act, nor were any of the other shenanigans. That’s why, to me as a reporter, his schtick was always funny. There have been athletes over the years who sound funny or bust out the occasional one-liner, but you knew their personality well enough to understand that it wasn’t authentic. When Gronk cracked a joke, he usually laughed harder than anyone in the room.
He finished the 2017 regular-season finale against the Jets without a single target, causing him to fall short of his final $2 million in stat-based incentives. Afterward, I asked if he knew how many catches he had that season: “Sixty-nine!” he beamed. Two million is enough to sting anyone, but it wasn’t enough for Gronk to miss that type of opportunity.
His teammates got a kick out of it all. He’ll probably always be remembered for kicking Colts safety Sergio Brown “out the club” during a 2014 regular-season victory, but that moment actually outshined another point the rest of the Patriots thought was just as funny. After a 26-yard touchdown, Gronk retreated to the sideline looking like the Tasmanian devil, eyes bulging, breath at a premium and shouting in a high-pitched voice to anyone who’d listen.
“How did I do that?”
“Did you guys just see what I did?”
“Did it look cool?”
Before Super Bowl XLIX against the Seahawks, Gronk was asked why he parties so hard, and he replied without hesitation, “Because I’m a baller.” His teammates wore out that line the rest of the week. There were plenty of instances like that, including a rare earthquake that hit New England one day and spawned the joke throughout Gillette Stadium that Gronk must have been throwing weights around again.
A few years ago, Tom Brady summoned Gronk for an important mission. Brady had become a regular at the Kentucky Derby, and the size of his entourage wasn’t going unnoticed. Shortly before this particular Derby, Brady heard Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers was assembling an even bigger crew, so Brady scrambled because he refused to be outdone and amassed a bigger, louder, more popular party. Problem was, in the hours before Brady’s private plane was ready to leave, the quarterback heard Gronk was going to bail. He called Gronk a half dozen times at the crack of dawn until the tight end answered. Gronk had a “come to Jesus” moment and made the trip at Brady’s beckoning.
Gronkowski didn’t always have a love affair with the media, though. While he became a cult hero while partying onstage during the 2010 draft and a superstar during his 18-touchdown season in 2011, he briefly struggled to grasp the other side of the star factor during the 2012 offseason. Gronk was recovering from ankle surgery after Super Bowl XLVI, and reporters followed him to every offseason event, from a puck drop at an AHL game in Western Massachusetts to a fundraiser at a financial building in Boston. The questions about his ankle persisted, and his agitation over the topic grew with each inquiry. As we walked out of one event, I told him he had the most popular ankle in America, so the questions were going to follow accordingly. The questions weren’t personal or critical by nature — just a means to an update for a region and a league that was starved for information about a guy who was recently tabbed as the most talented to ever play his position. He got it.
The injuries were always part of Gronk’s story. It looked like he could have broken his neck after a tumbling touchdown against the Chiefs on Monday Night Football in 2011, but he said he’d never change that patented playing style in an effort to avoid the violence that was more his asset than his enemy.
That was Gronk — the realest guy by every measure. He’d spike footballs and beer cans. He’d throw a one-man dance party to a stadium soundtrack or the beat in his own head. He’d break down opponents’ defensive schemes in one breath and crack a 69 joke the next. The more you can do, as Bill Belichick would say.
There will never be another Gronk — forever inimitable, immortalized by his uniqueness.
https://theathletic.com/886074/2019/03/24/howe-what-ill-always-remember-most-about-gronk/
Rob Gronkowski was everything you wanted him to be.
This is true for you, the fans, who gobbled up every quirky moment of Gronk’s nine-season career, which ended Sunday upon his retirement announcement. He was the fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, party-boy, football-behemoth spectacle you adored on the field and envied off it during his Hall of Fame run with the Patriots.
That personality was genuine and never for the cameras; as you know, some personalities in the sports and entertainment industries are for the cameras.
He was also about community to the core. That’s what I always respected more than anything about Rob Gronkowski as I covered the duration of his career. I’ve covered the Patriots since 2009, and Gronk will be the first Gold Jacket I covered from start to finish. And rather than recycling the same stats that everyone on the planet can use to justify his future presence in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, I’d prefer to give you a firsthand look of what it was like to cover the man whose personality was borderline mythical and whose on-field performance was legendary.
For example, as the Patriots were forging through their 2019 season and ultimately trekking toward their Super Bowl LIII victory against the Rams, I pushed hard to write a feature about the impact Gronk has had in New England and even across the country. I wanted to tell the story through the voices of the families whose lives were brightened by a personal experience with Gronkowski, as he frequently dropped in to local hospitals to meet with kids, or showed up at a house or a school or seemingly anywhere they shined the Gronk signal into the sky. It actually took a couple of months to organize the whole story, but the effort was sparked by the notion that each of Gronk’s appearances was genuine.
I’ll never forget: During the 2014 offseason, after Gronk recovered from a torn ACL to the point where he could at least walk around comfortably, he strolled into the Patriots’ community affairs office and asked if he could help at any upcoming events. Even earlier, before the 2013 season was over and Gronk had even graduated from a wheelchair, he showed up unannounced to Boston Children’s Hospital in an elf costume to sing Christmas carols, visit rooms and brighten spirits.
He handed out turkeys, dressed up like a Christmas tree, played football on the Gillette Stadium game field with Make-A-Wish recipients, called high schools in mourning over tragedy, and on and on. He once attended an event at a local family’s house, and they wondered if he’d ever leave because he was having as much fun as all the kids.
I once asked Gronkowski how a certain child with an illness was doing. “In (State A)?” he asked. “No, (State B),” I replied. He’s impacted so many lives off the field that it can be difficult for him to keep them all organized on the fly. Another time, I relayed a message of gratitude from a family whom he’d helped, and he got choked up, noting that’s the greatest reward for him, hearing long after the fact how he could use his platform to help others in need.
Gronk was everything you wanted him to be in the locker room, too. The “69” jokes weren’t an act, nor were any of the other shenanigans. That’s why, to me as a reporter, his schtick was always funny. There have been athletes over the years who sound funny or bust out the occasional one-liner, but you knew their personality well enough to understand that it wasn’t authentic. When Gronk cracked a joke, he usually laughed harder than anyone in the room.
He finished the 2017 regular-season finale against the Jets without a single target, causing him to fall short of his final $2 million in stat-based incentives. Afterward, I asked if he knew how many catches he had that season: “Sixty-nine!” he beamed. Two million is enough to sting anyone, but it wasn’t enough for Gronk to miss that type of opportunity.
His teammates got a kick out of it all. He’ll probably always be remembered for kicking Colts safety Sergio Brown “out the club” during a 2014 regular-season victory, but that moment actually outshined another point the rest of the Patriots thought was just as funny. After a 26-yard touchdown, Gronk retreated to the sideline looking like the Tasmanian devil, eyes bulging, breath at a premium and shouting in a high-pitched voice to anyone who’d listen.
“How did I do that?”
“Did you guys just see what I did?”
“Did it look cool?”
Before Super Bowl XLIX against the Seahawks, Gronk was asked why he parties so hard, and he replied without hesitation, “Because I’m a baller.” His teammates wore out that line the rest of the week. There were plenty of instances like that, including a rare earthquake that hit New England one day and spawned the joke throughout Gillette Stadium that Gronk must have been throwing weights around again.
A few years ago, Tom Brady summoned Gronk for an important mission. Brady had become a regular at the Kentucky Derby, and the size of his entourage wasn’t going unnoticed. Shortly before this particular Derby, Brady heard Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers was assembling an even bigger crew, so Brady scrambled because he refused to be outdone and amassed a bigger, louder, more popular party. Problem was, in the hours before Brady’s private plane was ready to leave, the quarterback heard Gronk was going to bail. He called Gronk a half dozen times at the crack of dawn until the tight end answered. Gronk had a “come to Jesus” moment and made the trip at Brady’s beckoning.
Gronkowski didn’t always have a love affair with the media, though. While he became a cult hero while partying onstage during the 2010 draft and a superstar during his 18-touchdown season in 2011, he briefly struggled to grasp the other side of the star factor during the 2012 offseason. Gronk was recovering from ankle surgery after Super Bowl XLVI, and reporters followed him to every offseason event, from a puck drop at an AHL game in Western Massachusetts to a fundraiser at a financial building in Boston. The questions about his ankle persisted, and his agitation over the topic grew with each inquiry. As we walked out of one event, I told him he had the most popular ankle in America, so the questions were going to follow accordingly. The questions weren’t personal or critical by nature — just a means to an update for a region and a league that was starved for information about a guy who was recently tabbed as the most talented to ever play his position. He got it.
The injuries were always part of Gronk’s story. It looked like he could have broken his neck after a tumbling touchdown against the Chiefs on Monday Night Football in 2011, but he said he’d never change that patented playing style in an effort to avoid the violence that was more his asset than his enemy.
That was Gronk — the realest guy by every measure. He’d spike footballs and beer cans. He’d throw a one-man dance party to a stadium soundtrack or the beat in his own head. He’d break down opponents’ defensive schemes in one breath and crack a 69 joke the next. The more you can do, as Bill Belichick would say.
There will never be another Gronk — forever inimitable, immortalized by his uniqueness.
https://theathletic.com/886074/2019/03/24/howe-what-ill-always-remember-most-about-gronk/
TD Catches Before the Age of 30
WR Randy Moss: 101
WR Jerry Rice: 93
TE Rob Gronkowski: 79
WR Lance Alworth: 77
WR Larry Fitzgerald: 77
WR Art Powell: 77
WR Calvin Johnson: 74
Even with Gonzalez and Gates' longevity neither of them matched Gronk's 5 double digit TD seasons or came close to Gronk's playoff resume with a combined 27 years in the league.
Curran went over to the dark side a couple of years ago.
Doug KyedVerified account @DougKyed <small class="time"> 1m1 minutes ago </small>
Drew Rosenhaus, Rob Gronkowski's agent, told <s>@</s>peter_king it wouldn't shock him if Gronk returned sometime during the 2019 season.
Drew Rosenhaus, Rob Gronkowski's agent, told <s>@</s>peter_king it wouldn't shock him if Gronk returned sometime during the 2019 season.
My first thought when I heard the news yesterday.
I also am prepared for the haters to tell me that he is not a HOF'er.
Comparing Gronk to Lynn Swann (played the same number of seasons)
Regular Season
Games played - Swann 96 Gronk 100
Rec - Swann 336 Gronk 521
Yards - Swann 5,462 Gronk 7,861
TD - Swann 51 Gronk 79
Post Season
Games played - Swann 16 Gronk 16
Yards - Swann 907 Gronk 1,163
TD - Swann 9 Gronk 12
He compares favorably to Swann and he didn't even play the same position.
It's not worth having a conversation with anyone who will argue that he is not a HOF'er.
EasyBigFella
Got 6? YUP
I'll be curious if he files retirement papers. Willie McGinest had this story a week or so ago and would make a lot of sense, but time will tell.
The way I heard it this morning, the Pats will put him on the "Reserved:Retired" list and get the cap space immediately. Gronk then has until Week 10 to decide if he wants to comeback, and if he does, they negotiate a new contract based on the available cap space they have at that time.
Dwight Schrute
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Nice!
MEPATNUT
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Going to miss him a lot. I thought that Ben Coats was the best TE that the Patriots ever had, but along came Gronk and set the bar so high I doubt anyone will ever reach it.
I hope people refrain from saying "we have to find the next Gronk". There just isn't one to be found - not for a long, long time.
At age 30, I wish him luck at whatever he does. I hope that the injuries that he suffered in the NFL do not hinder him in any way as he has a long life ahead of him.
I hope people refrain from saying "we have to find the next Gronk". There just isn't one to be found - not for a long, long time.
At age 30, I wish him luck at whatever he does. I hope that the injuries that he suffered in the NFL do not hinder him in any way as he has a long life ahead of him.
jayShomp
Well-known member
It was such a different game then. A player should only be measured against his peers of the same era in my opinion. And in this era he was the best all around TE in the NFL, it's not even arguable. The closest is Witten(a sure HoF-er) but he couldn't dominate a game in every facet the way Gronk could. The only thing that can be and will be held against him by some I'm sure is the short career but it doesn't matter with what he's accomplished.
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My son (who has the same b-day as Gronk) was really sad when I told him last night. 87 is the only jersey he's ever had (7). I'm still hoping he comes back around Thanksgiving.
Patriots71
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Damn that works out almost too well.
Giant Octopodes
Well-known member
Heck of a player, it was a pleasure watching him play, and it was obvious how much he added to the locker room. He'll be impossible to replace, but the team has shown it can win games and championships without him. Here's hoping he has success in his future endeavors.
Hawg73
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It occurred to me that Rob might be following the blueprint of pro wrestling as concerns a potential retirement.
I found an article on The Ringer titled "The Eight Kinds of Pro Wrestling Retirement" and the bit that seemed closest to what (assuming) he could have in mind:
Saving-It-for-a-Special-Occasion Retirement
What’s That? A close cousin of the story-line retirement, this is a fairly cynical conceit that hinges on orchestrating a popular performer’s last hurrah as a preamble to his or her eventual, ballyhooed comeback when timing and demand dictate.
Symptoms Include: A highly bankable superstar saying c’est la vie when there’s still money on the table and no indication that he or she’s an entirely enfeebled or scandalized figure (here, Undertaker rises again); stepping back into a less physical on-screen contribution such as Raw or SmackDown general manager or WWF/WWE commissioner, without betraying obvious signs of unrecoverable decrepitude (remember late-’90s WWF commissioner Shawn Michaels?); or departing to focus on myriad endeavors with obvious goodwill among fans and employers intact (see ya at Evolution, Trish Stratus).
Odds of Ultimately Unretiring: 70 percent.
Timeline for Return: Six months to 15 years.
So, my fantasy scenario here is:
Rob feels like he needs to let his body heal extensively and would pursue some serious private Guerrero-style treatment because he has an innate distaste for constant questions about his physical well-being (ankle injury and arm stuff drove him nuts) and this is what he knows he'd get if he sticks it out for the whole year.
So, he goes on a vision quest and continues to visit sick kids, do entertainment industry gigs etc. and keeps coy in public statements. He's good at it, because the Gronk smash persona is the total construct of a keen secret intellect. If the Pats are in position for a stretch drive and his competitive juices are flowing like a raging river then he returns, born again, like Captain America or The Undertaker to save the day for the fans, his teammates and Planet Earth.
Nobody minds that he retired, such a move would likely be celebrated by the entire Footballverse and, if it were to work out between the white lines, would elevate him to a whole 'nother level--- 'rasslin-style.
James Brown did this shit multiple times at the end of every concert he perfomed whereupon he would "die", be carried off stage and then return from the dead. You want to tell me that Rob wouldn't do it once?