“RIP”: NFL World Mourns Passing of QB Who Started Over Terry Bradshaw at Louisiana Tech

1968: It was a particularly grim day for the Lousiana Tech Bulldogs coaching staff. As soon as assistant coach EJ Lewis realized what had happened, he rushed to his quarterback’s house along with the university president Clyde Rougeou. Upon arrival, the duo almost choked on their breath at the scene unfurling in front of them. Covered in bl–d, the house owner answered the door. Behind him “was a tub on the floor with a deer hanging in it. He was gutting it in the house,” as per what Lewis later recalled. For anybody else, that would be the cue to leave, perhaps run for their lives. But Louisiana Tech folks knew Phil Robertson all too well.

Debuting for the team in 1965, before being elevated to a starter role the next year, young Phil was not your usual quarterback. He’d often “come into class all full of bl–d” on his clothes. Robertson’s love for hunting got so extreme (for university execs) that the dean of men even called him into his office once, just to remind him of his stature. “Mr. Robertson, do you realize the name of that street you live on?” the dean had asked, before responding, “You live on Scholar Drive.” He then launched into a story about how the signal caller needed to be more prim and proper. “When we got to your house there were nets, there was duck feathers and bl–d on the sidewalk, an old deer hide and antlers and a bunch of old junk piled up. I want you to…get that stuff out of sight because it’s just not real scholarly.”

Soon after, the first-string quarterback realized he was too eccentric, too far removed from the elite world of football. After completing his junior year, the 22-year-old officially retired. The happiest? Backup quarterback turned four-time Super Bowl champ, Terry Bradshaw. His chance to shine had finally come. Bradshaw remembered that moment clearly. “On game day…he was mad we had to play a game cause the ducks were flying high or the deer were (moving). It was crazy… he was the starter. I couldn’t beat this guy out.” Robertson, who lovingly called Bradshaw “Bomber”, put it this way: “Terry went for the bucks, and I chased after the ducks.” 

Over the next 58 years, Phil Robertson built a legacy elsewhere. He completed a bachelor’s and master’s degree in physical education, spent several years teaching, founded his own company Duck Commander in 1973 (that later became a multimillion-dollar business), and launched a media career that gave him an unabashed celebrity status. But what matters is till the very end, he spent his time doing what he loved. For the world, he was an old, eccentric (and sometimes controversial) man, but for his family, he will be remembered as the father, husband, and grandfather who’d do anything for them. And that’s a heartbreaking truth Phil’s wife Kay, and five children will have to remember for the rest of their lives, as they recall his words: “Don’t cry. Dance, sing, but don’t cry when I die.”

On Sunday, a deafening silence befell the 79-year-old’s West Monroe, Louisiana home. Words felt short. Yet, Robertson’s daughter-in-law Korie Robertson mustered up the courage to announce: “We celebrate today that our father, husband, and grandfather, Phil Robertson, is now with the Lord. He reminded us often of the words of Paul, ‘you do not grieve like those who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. We know so many of you love him and have been impacted by his life.” 

“We’re having a private service for now, but we’ll share details soon about a public celebration of his life,” the statement further added. The businessman reportedly passed away after battling Alzheimer’s disease and a blood disorder. His son, Jase, had announced the diagnosis for the first time last December on the Unashamed With the Robertson Family podcast. At the time, he had informed how the old man was “not doing well” and “struggling”. 

Notably, during his college career, Robertson had clinched a 43.5% completion rate, 2,237 passing yards, 12 touchdowns, and 34 interceptions. Nothing that screamed NFL prospect, but still forced Lewis to convince him to return. Mostly because “he had a good presence in the pocket… that booger could chuck that football.” Unfortunately, though, the writing was already on the wall, as Bradshaw took over. Still, the Washington franchise, now the Commanders, reportedly expressed interest. But Robertson turned down the $60,000 offer. Why? He preferred the woods. “I thought it was a lot more fun to be standing down in some flooded timber with about 35 or 40 mallard ducks comin’ down on top of me,” he told Sports Illustrated in 2013.

Now, nearly 60 years removed, Bradshaw looks back with no bitterness. Just clarity. “I want you to get knocked out so I can start. And he did. And I did!” Bradshaw laughed. It was never about resentment. Just two lives, colliding once in college, then splitting off.

Now, one of them is gone. And while fans remember the show, the beard, the faith, and the duck calls, those who knew the full story might pause and remember that before all of that, Phil Robertson once held the clipboard Terry Bradshaw could only watch from behind.

Fans can’t believe they lost their Duck Dynasty guy

We’re not just talking about a reality TV icon here—we’re talking about a man who kept Terry Bradshaw on the bench. “RIP Legend,” one wrote, and that pretty much set the tone.

Then came the disbelief. “NOT DUCK DYNASTY GUY” another fan shouted from the digital stands. Phil was a guy Bear Bryant once praised as one of the best QB prospects he’d seen. Robertson may not have had NFL stats, but when your delivery’s faster than Bradshaw’s and your coach has to lock you down to stop you from duck hunting at 4 a.m., you’ve got that special kind of football folklore.

Even President Donald Trump’s son Don Jr., an avid hunter, took to Instagram to share a heartfelt anecdote. “So sorry to hear about the loss of an absolute legend, Phil Robertson. I got to know Phil in 2016 in his duck camp in Monroe, LA. I hunted with @realjaseduckman the day before I met Phil and when we did finally meet, the first words out of his mouth when we met were “I hear you can shoot!” I took it as a true compliment that outdoorsmen of this caliber were talking about me in that manner after having spent some time in the duck blind. It’s something I’ll never forget. My condolences to Jase, @realwilliebosshog and the entire Robertson family our thoughts and prayers are with you. R.I.P.”

But it’s that wild contradiction that fans kept circling back to—this QB who gave it all up for the woods. “My childhood is slowly going away,” someone posted. Because Phil would hang a deer in his apartment doorway, toss squirrel tails out of his pockets, and still throw for 300 yards in a game where most teams were allergic to the forward pass. His game was ahead of its time, just not ahead of his own passions. The man literally stopped mid-practice to admire a flight of geese overhead.

“Dude chose ducks over touchdowns. Respect.” And how do you not respect that? He wasn’t playing for the scouts. He was playing for the thrill. The same rush he got watching mallards rain down through the trees.

And that draws a curtain on Phil’s life, too. Let that be the line to define and set a tone for the coming generation as well. One must do what the heart says. Rest in Power, Duck Commander.