What’s in a name?
For a father, a name could represent something as simple as a compromise from the baby book or reverence up the family tree. Maybe it’s a favorite character from a TV show or a friend who impacted his life.
Yet, there’s no denying the impact when a Jr. or II shows up.
All sons carry a legacy, but the namesake carries heft.
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In the case of a father among the rare few to reach the NFL, the Jr. carries so much more. It carries expectations.
From whispers around the youth fields to anxiously awaiting to see how big, fast or strong the son of an NFL player will be. Or high school coaches expecting they’ll be developing an NFL talent.
All sons of NFL players come with this, but there’s something in a name.
The NFL has been full of them. Clay Matthews Jr., Antoine Winfield Jr., Patrick Surtain II and Mark Ingram II carved their own legacies from famous namesakes.
This past draft featured Marvin Harrison Jr. going No. 4 to the Cardinals, with side-by-side comparisons to his famous father flooding the internet all draft season.
In Cincinnati, where Ken Griffey Jr. and Sr. both brought fans to their feet on the banks of the Ohio River, the draft’s 49th pick was Kris Jenkins Jr., of Michigan. His father, Kris Jenkins Sr. was a four-time Pro Bowler and two-time All-Pro who went 44th to Carolina 23 years prior. Jenkins Jr. joined new teammate Orlando Brown Jr., whose father started 119 games at offensive tackle for the Browns and Ravens before passing away in 2011. In the receiver room is Kwamie Lassiter II, who managed his first career reception this past season in Arizona, where his father was beloved playing 115 games in his 10-year career. Lassiter Sr. died in 2019.
They are all together in Cincinnati partially because of how their fathers handled raising a son in the NFL footlights and instilling lessons on pressure, expectations and, above all, how to make a name for yourself.
As a 10-year-old, Jenkins Jr. wasn’t living up to the reputation of his Pro Bowl father.
Jenkins Sr. made his NFL name bullying 300-pound offensive linemen for 10 seasons at defensive tackle for the Carolina Panthers and New York Jets. Yet, here was Jenkins Jr., running around youth football fields of suburban Maryland faking injuries to avoid doing the Oklahoma drill.
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“I was that kid who didn’t like getting hit,” Jenkins Jr. said. “Was a crybaby, got tired easy, chubby kid.”
His dad would call him out for faking the injury and ship him back in for the drill. He didn’t demand his namesake play football, merely that he gave it a real chance.
“Just get a taste for it,” Jenkins Jr. said.
The football impact of his famous father wasn’t as much about torque or technique.
“Trying to get me mentally ready,” Jenkins Jr. said. “It was really just molding me into, one, a man that wanted to play football, first of all, and was confident. He felt like that was part of just being a man a little bit, getting that confidence.”
Kris Jenkins made three of his four Pro Bowls during his seven seasons with the Carolina Panthers. (Bob Donnan / USA Today)
That’s why one moment still stands out above the rest to the Bengals’ second-round pick, the 299-pound Michigan captain and third-team All-American nicknamed “The Mutant.”
He was 12 years old playing for the Howard County Stars. For the first time in three years of playing football, he hit back.
“I finally had enough,” Jenkins Jr. said. “I clocked a big kid down, he was staring up and I stood over him and (Jenkins Sr.) got up and started screaming. That was the first time I really seen my dad get hyped up.”
Jenkins Jr. backs up and flexes as he tells the story. He re-enacted the reaction as can only be done with a core memory bonding father, son, name and football.
“That’s when I knew,” Jenkins Jr. said.
He knew the heavy burden and NFL expectations of carrying out a famous family business weren’t just on his birth certificate but in his blood.
When Kris Jenkins Jr. asked for advice from his father in preparation for the Combine, he said just “be a dawg.” 😤 @KrisJenkinsJr1 | @kimmichex
📺: 2024#NFLCombineon NFL Network
📱: Stream on #NFLPlus pic.twitter.com/ZTlCrhFoeR— NFL Network (@nflnetwork) February 29, 2024
Being the son of an NFL player draws enough attention, then growing into a monster of a human being and a spitting image of an NFL left tackle makes the comparisons impossible to miss.
“I’m a big dude and I look like him,” Brown Jr. said, laughing about the similarities. “It’s only natural I felt that way.”
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One repeated sentiment helped Brown handle the attention and comparisons.
“Something he always expressed was just to ‘be better than me,'” Brown Jr. said. “That in itself was enough for me to pursue it the right way and set the bar higher than he did.”
Even as a kid just trying to learn the game — or duck out of the Oklahoma drill — there is no easing into an enjoyable sports journey. You aren’t allowed to be just another kid. That’s Orlando Brown Jr. That’s Sr.’s son, they’ll say, it’s a Little Zeus.
Seventh Heaven 🙏🏾 pic.twitter.com/5sqj8ZcCNb
— Orlando Brown Jr. (@ZEUS__57) February 2, 2017
Great football fathers bring more than just rare DNA, though. They understand the issues and inner struggle. They understand preparing a son to deal with the pressure of family accomplishments will be a big part of their athletic upbringing.
For some, if mishandled, it could turn them away from the game.
If harnessed, however, it opens up a trove of institutional knowledge, belief and connections to fuel their dreams.
“The biggest thing having a dad who played in the league is really just the mindset,” Brown said. “It gives you that edge with the mindset coming into this level understanding the expectation, knowing your role and how to go about it. Sometimes you see young men come into the league, whether good or bad or not, they struggle gaining respect from their peers. Sometimes that’s from lack of guidance, lack of understanding. I was very fortunate to have my dad give me that kind of information. So not only do my peers respect me, but coaches and front office execs as well.”
Lassiter II didn’t take to football in his elementary school days. He grew up playing baseball and running track. The idea of following in his dad’s footsteps wasn’t the plan for a large portion of his childhood.
His dad didn’t nudge him in the direction of the football field. Actually, it was the exact opposite.
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“My dad wasn’t the type to wake you up or go take you to the gym or take you to the field,” Lassiter said. “If we overslept, he would let us oversleep. He let you fail. He’d say, ‘If you don’t want it, I don’t want it for you.’ I learned off of that.”
It’s what made Lassiter II realize he wanted to follow his dad’s NFL path. When he was willing to wake up for it.
“My pops always told me, once you know what you really want to do in life, that’s when you lock into it,” Lassiter II said. “I knew in high school I wanted to play football for real. Then my senior year, I locked into it. We started school at 7, so I’m waking up at 4, waking him up. Me and my boy going to the field to go practice. Crazy. That’s how I knew I really wanted it.”
.@kwamie_lassiter with the hands 🤯
Minicamp | @KetteringHealth pic.twitter.com/QaQa734PsY
— Cincinnati Bengals (@Bengals) June 12, 2024
Finding a way to make your own mark and not be viewed through the lens of a famous name is a major hurdle for teenagers in this situation. Developing individuality is so important for that age and there is a predisposition built against it.
Lassiter II, Brown Jr. and Jenkins Jr. all experienced how important it was to hear their fathers influence them away from their path. And if they eventually drew them back to the football world, then so be it.
It would help them deal with expectations no matter what endeavor — specifically an athletic one — they chose to pursue.
“I really noticed it more in high school, they were always like, ‘Be like your dad, be like your dad,'” Lassiter II said. “My dad was always like, ‘Man, go be your own man.’ We might have the same name but you can be better than me. Once I got to college I never had pressure. I never felt pressure by having the same name. I knew the talent I had was going to carry more than just being Kwamie’s son.”
Jenkins Jr. laughs thinking about draft day now. He knows specifically that his dad was picked 44th and he went 49th. He said he’s been tagged on social media in the video putting the two side by side more times than he can count.
The picture of Jenkins wearing his dad’s big No. 77 as a little kid at Panthers practice has been another to circulate upon his arrival to the NFL.
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His uncle, Cullen Jenkins, had 49.5 sacks and Jenkins Jr. admits that number is deeply branded on his brain because his uncle would never let him forget it. Ever.
“Because that’s all he does is talk trash,” Jenkins Jr. said. “I could go to work, eat, drink coffee and he’d be like, ‘Hey, I got 49.5 sacks.’ How many career sacks you got right now? OK.”
Rookie defensive tackle Kris Jenkins Jr. warms up during Bengals OTAs. (Cara Owsley / USA Today)
But none of those numbers stick quite as much from his dad’s career as the number three. That’s how many ACL tears he rehabbed through and eventually ended his run with the Panthers and Jets.
Jenkins Jr. shows up for his first season knowing how fragile an NFL career can be. He knows about patience, perseverance and embracing the moment.
He doesn’t remember the details about being around the game with his dad and uncle as a little kid as much as he does the feelings.
“You just see them as superheroes,” Jenkins Jr. said. “You are finally there. They take you in the locker room. You are a two-three-foot nugget. It was unreal.”
To now be the superhero, years later blazing his own path to the same NFL locker rooms isn’t lost on him. It feels like he’s finally reached a point he’s been preparing for his whole life.
“It definitely feels like a surreal feeling after everything they talked about, if you get to that point, you’ll understand the next level and type of hard work and dedication you have to put toward your craft,” Jenkins Jr. said.
Everyone else may have placed these expectations on Brown Jr., Lassiter II and Jenkins Jr., but those only make living up to them all the more special.
Their dads guided them but allowed each to do it on their own. In turn, they appreciate and truly understand what’s in a name.
That’s the real legacy.
(Top photo of Kris Jenkins Sr. and Kris Jenkins Jr. in 2004 and Kris Jenkins Jr. in 2024: Chuck Burton and Jeff Dean / Associated Press)
