How Larry Fitzgerald goes back to normal after HOF nod

SCOTTSDALE, Ariz. — Larry Fitzgerald was in the middle of dinner with the rest of Dick’s Sporting Goods’ board of directors on Jan. 20 in Boca Raton, Florida, when his phone buzzed.

It was a friend of his, telling the former Arizona Cardinals All-Pro receiver about his new yacht. At the end of the message was a request: “I would love to show you my new boat.”

“I was like, ‘That’s random,'” Fitzgerald said, but he accepted the invite with the caveat that he couldn’t make it until 8:15 p.m., when his dinner would be over. After the meal, Fitzgerald was driven to the dock — which was right across the street from his hotel, which Fitzgerald, again, thought was odd.

“Out of all the places, why would his boat be docked across from my hotel?” Fitzgerald thought to himself.

His friend met him at the dock and the two started walking toward the boat, which was parked in the last slip. “Way out there,” Fitzgerald said.

During their stroll, Fitzgerald’s friend talked about how he picked out the upholstery, and about the stern and the mast. Fitzgerald likes boats but doesn’t know much about them, so he nodded along, interested in what his friend had to say and happy to see him excited.

When they finally arrived at the boat, Fitzgerald’s friend let him go on first. When Fitzgerald turned a corner and stepped into the boat, Hall of Fame wide receiver and longtime friend Randy Moss was standing there, waiting to give Fitzgerald a bit of good news.

“You know why I’m here, boy,” Moss said to Fitzgerald as the two embraced. “Hey man, bro, with all my love man, want to welcome you to the Pro Football Hall of Fame, Class of 2026, man.”

Looking back at the moment, Fitzgerald said he was genuinely surprised.

“Man, I had no clue,” Fitzgerald told ESPN. “I had no clue. And there was no inclination that would even give me any clues, and I’m pretty good at that stuff. I pick up on things pretty quickly. I picked up on none of the clues.

“So, it was a great surprise.”

Fitzgerald went back to his hotel room and got in the shower. It was there that the magnitude of the moment overwhelmed him.

“I broke down in the shower,” Fitzgerald said. “And I was thankful and appreciative, but I was sad that my mom is not going to be here to kind of celebrate it with me. And then you start kind of going to that reflection mode and all the people who contributed to your life in a meaningful way.”

He thought of his mom, Carol, who died in 2003 from breast cancer; his grandparents and uncle Robert, all of whom have died; and his aunt Grace. He thought about them taking him to football practice as a child, showing up to support a young kid when the Hall of Fame was not even a long-distance glimmer on the horizon.

“I’m talking, I was 8 years old. I just wanted to get some KFC chicken after practice and they would take me to get it,” Fitzgerald said. “They were doing it before it was appealing and there was something in it for them, and there was nothing in it for them. And all of those things, it kind of hits you.”

Then another reality set in: Fitzgerald had to keep his election to the Hall of Fame, which he accomplished in his first year of eligibility, a secret. He had to tell a few people on his team to work on logistics and messaging, but other than them, Fitzgerald didn’t tell a soul — not even his kids or his dad.

Definitely not his dad, longtime Minneapolis sportswriter Larry Fitzgerald Sr.

“I’ve told my dad things in the past and somehow it’s come out in ways that I did not anticipate and it wasn’t good,” Fitzgerald said with a laugh. “So, I just said, ‘I’m allow this to be a surprise for pops.’ And I love him, but some people don’t do as good with secrets as others.”

Essentially, if someone didn’t need to know, Fitzgerald said, they didn’t find out until the rest of the world did on Feb. 5 during NFL Honors in San Francisco.

For 16 days, Fitzgerald kept his Hall of Fame election to himself.

“It felt very weird holding on to it,” Fitzgerald said. “But I know if you have a secret, I can keep it. I can keep it.”

During those 16 days, Fitzgerald said he thought a lot about the other members of his class: Drew Brees, Luke Kuechly, Adam Vinatieri and Roger Craig. Among the reasons not to tell anyone about his election, Fitzgerald felt it was paramount to keep it to himself out of respect for those other four men. If he told one person and the rest of the class got out, Fitzgerald felt it would have been disrespectful to them, their journeys and their Hall of Fame experience, as well.

After the wait came the announcement at NFL Honors. After the announcement came the recognition on the field at Levi’s Stadium during Super Bowl LX.

But after the Super Bowl, Fitzgerald was back to his life, albeit without a life-changing secret squatting on his shoulders.

“Obviously, it’s an amazing, amazing thing to be a Hall of Famer, but the light bill still came, the kids’ needs are still the same, tuition needs to be paid,” Fitzgerald said. “There’s certain things that are never going to change and life goes on. My neighbors were a little nicer to me.

“But life is life, man.”

And it didn’t slow down.

Two days after he stood on the field, with a camera broadcasting his face to millions around the world, announcing he was a Hall of Famer, Fitzgerald sat in the empty dining room at Dominick’s, a steakhouse in Scottsdale, jumping from interview to interview. He was there to talk about his foundation, which has been supporting breast cancer awareness and K-12 initiatives through the Larry Fitzgerald Supper Club, now in its 16th year. Though the Hall of Fame was certainly a topic at every table he bounced to, he talked about the money and awareness he raised, not just to promote his work in the community but to also honor his mom, who worked for two nonprofits in Minneapolis before she died.

Talking about his foundation’s work was part of the way Fitzgerald feels he repays those who helped him along the way.

“I’m a recipient of a lot of generosity and I’ve been blessed with a lot and I feel like it’s our responsibility,” he said.

Fitzgerald noticed about 10 years ago that helping others fulfilled him. He knew then that he didn’t have many years left in the NFL but wanted to use his presence in his final seasons as a way to maximize his impact on the causes that he was most passionate about.

Sitting at a table in a tailored plaid suit and navy button-down, it was just another day for Fitzgerald, doing what he’d be doing even if he wasn’t just named to the Hall of Fame.

His life had just changed. He had reached the pinnacle of a football player’s journey. And within 48 hours, he was back to his normal life.

“I think for the most part, I’m a pretty even-keeled cat,” he said. “You’re not going to see me wildly high, you’re not going to see me wildly low. I’m like anybody. I have great highs and I have low lows, but I don’t let that determine how I treat people and how I interact with folks on a daily basis.

“And I’m really thoughtful on how I do that because no matter how bad my day is, I know there’s people that have much, much harder days than I do and so it puts things in perspective for me, and that’s kind of how I keep it regulated.”

Despite his return to normalcy, there will be moments when Fitzgerald’s new reality — that as a Hall of Famer — will come to the forefront. Monday will be one of those days.

As he does every Monday with his team, he’ll hop on a call to discuss the upcoming week. However, this Monday’s call will be different. All 15 members of his team, including a speechwriter and speech coordinator, will be on the call to start planning Fitzgerald’s Hall of Fame speech.

They’ll start building the framework for the speech, start thinking about talking points and start making a list of everyone he wants to make sure to include.

“We’ll start just kind of working the train and we’ll get to a good place,” Fitzgerald said.

Then it’ll be back to reality until his next Hall of Fame moment.