By: Vedanth Ramanathan
Let the chaos begin.
Myles Garrett, Cleveland’s six-time All-Pro defensive juggernaut, publicly requested a trade to a contender, declaring he’s “tired of losing” after eight seasons with the Browns. Hours later, Cooper Kupp — the Rams’ Super Bowl LVI MVP and long-time face of the franchise — announced that Los Angeles had informed him he had been traded, a decision he “doesn’t agree with” after dedicating his career to the team. These moves aren’t just about roster shuffling — they’re stark reminders that the NFL, just as we were reminded about the NBA a week ago, is a league where allegiance evaporates when the balance sheets demand it.
In the NFL, loyalty is a one-way street paved with escape clauses. Cleveland once marketed Garrett as the embodiment of its gritty rebirth, a homegrown star who signed a $125 million extension in 2020. Now, he’s eyeing the door. Kupp, who inked a $110 million deal in 2022, is suddenly expendable, his name floating in trade rumors like a disposable asset. Los Angeles, once lauded for its “all-in” ethos, now treats Kupp’s $29.78M cap hit as dead weight, prioritizing financial flexibility over sentimentality. As in the NBA, aging stars are no longer untouchable but expendable.
The NBA’s Shadow Looms Large
Remember Isaiah Thomas? In 2017, he played through a hip injury and grief over his sister’s death for the Celtics, only to be traded months later. The NFL, though, operates with even colder efficiency. Contracts aren’t fully guaranteed. Rosters churn faster. And when a player’s prime dips or a salary cap looms, history — even recent history — is irrelevant.
Garrett and Kupp’s situations beg the question: Do players have real agency, or is their power merely performative? Garrett’s trade request carries weight because he’s elite — a rare talent who can bend a franchise’s will. His demand forces Cleveland’s hand: rebuild or risk alienating a franchise cornerstone. But even here, control is illusory. Without a no-trade clause, Garrett’s destiny hinges on Cleveland’s willingness to absorb a $36M dead-cap hit — a financial grenade few teams can stomach. Kupp, 31 and battling injuries, has less leverage. The Rams, facing cap hell, might prefer to offload his $27.8 million cap hit over letting him retire in their colors. Teams preach “family” until the math stops mathing.
The NFL is catching up to the NBA’s blockbuster trade culture. The Rams’ 2021 Super Bowl core — Kupp, Aaron Donald, Matthew Stafford — is dissolving just three years later, mirroring the Warriors’ or Cavaliers’ boom-bust cycles. The difference? NBA stars orchestrate their exits; NFL exits are often orchestrated for the stars. When Thomas was traded, it was a wake-up call about the NBA’s hypocrisy. The NFL never pretended to care.
Yet, players are adapting. Richard Sherman signed to San Francisco acting as his own agent. Jalen Ramsey and Tyreek Hill turned contract disputes into tickets to contenders. Garrett’s potential move signals a shift: Elite defenders, long seen as interchangeable chess pieces, are now leveraging their value.
What Remains When the Checks Clear?
Loyalty in sports was always a romantic myth. Teams discard aging heroes (see: Tom Brady, Peyton Manning) and fans move on before the jersey’s cold. Garrett and Kupp’s sagas aren’t tragedies; they’re inevitabilities. The Rams’ “F them picks” title run was a short-term bet, and Kupp’s MVP heroics bought him two extra years of goodwill. Garrett’s trade request is a preemptive strike against Cleveland’s eventual rebuild.
In the end, the NFL is a machine that thrives on impermanence. The NBA’s loyalty reckoning forced players to seize control. The NFL? It’s content to let the machine grind as long as the revenue flows. Teams want your blood, sweat, and tears — until they want your cap space.
Final Word:
The lesson for players is clear: Get yours while you can. Loyalty won’t.
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