The Measure of Immortality: Why Aaron Rodgers and Myles Garrett Already Belong in Canton, and What Their Paths Tell Us About Excellence in the Modern NFL

There is a peculiar weight that comes with naming names when discussing the Pro Football Hall of Fame. To say someone belongs in Canton is to make a claim about legacy, about the arc of a career viewed from the vantage point of history. It is to suggest that what we are watching is not merely excellent football for a season or two, but rather the accumulation of excellence across years, through different systems and challenges, in a way that will be remembered and discussed long after the uniforms are hung in closets and the stadiums have seen new champions crowned. When we talk about Aaron Rodgers and Myles Garrett in this context, we are not engaging in premature celebration or inflated praise. We are simply acknowledging what the record, the film, and the fundamental understanding of quarterback and defensive line play tell us: these two men have already written themselves into professional football immortality.

Let us start with Aaron Rodgers, because his path to Canton is, in many ways, the more complicated story. The arc of his career has not followed the traditional narrative we typically attach to Hall of Fame quarterbacks. He was not the number one pick. He did not arrive as a fully formed prodigy, immediately transforming his franchise into a consistent contender. Instead, Rodgers spent three years learning the game behind Brett Favre in Green Bay, watching the most durable and streaky quarterback in NFL history, understanding through osmosis what it meant to lead an NFL offense. When he finally took over in 2005, he was twenty-one years old in experience but thirty years old in the kind of knowledge that cannot be taught in a classroom. This patience, this willingness to learn in the shadows, would become a defining characteristic of his career.

The 2011 season stands as the singular greatest season any quarterback has ever played. To say this is not hyperbole, but rather a statement supported by the empirical evidence of statistics and the testimony of everyone who has studied quarterbacks at a granular level. Rodgers completed 68.3 percent of his passes for 4,643 yards, 45 touchdowns, and only 6 interceptions. His interception to touchdown ratio of 7.5 to 1 remains unmatched in the modern era. His passer rating of 122.5 is the highest ever recorded in a season where a quarterback threw more than 500 passes. But these numbers, as staggering as they are, do not capture what made that season transcendent. It was the manner in which he played, the precision, the creativity off script, the ability to make defenders miss while standing in the pocket, the confidence in his own arm talent to thread needles across the field. He won the MVP award that year, and it felt almost like an afterthought, a bureaucratic formality recognizing what everyone already knew.

What separates Rodgers from other exceptional quarterbacks is not just that one season, remarkable as it was. It is the consistency of excellence across nearly two decades. Since 2005, Rodgers has earned eight Pro Bowl selections and has been named All-Pro five times. He has thrown 443 touchdown passes against only 108 interceptions in the regular season. These are not the numbers of a player who had a great year or two and then faded. These are the numbers of a quarterback who remained at an elite level, year after year, through different coaching regimes, different receiving corps, and the inevitable aging that comes to all professional athletes. The Super Bowl victory in 2011 is not a necessary addition to his resume, though it certainly enhances his candidacy. Even without that championship, the body of work would be sufficient. It is a career that represents the pinnacle of individual quarterback play in the modern era.

Myles Garrett's path to Canton is, by contrast, one of almost relentless dominance from the moment he was drafted. When the Cleveland Browns selected him first overall in 2017, there was considerable hope and skepticism in equal measure. The Browns had been a franchise in perpetual turmoil, and the idea that any one player could transform their fortunes seemed almost naive. But Garrett was different from the moment he stepped onto an NFL field. He possessed a combination of size, athleticism, speed, and technical skill that scouts had rarely encountered. At 6 feet 4 inches and 272 pounds during his final college season, he ran a 4.65 forty-yard dash at the combine. These are the measurements of a defensive end, but his quickness and lateral agility were those of a much smaller player. He was, in essence, a mismatch nightmare for offensive coordinators who had to scheme against him.

Since entering the league, Garrett has accumulated 82 sacks through seven seasons. That pace, if he maintains it for even five more years, would put him within striking distance of T.J. Watt's current record of 114 career sacks. But the sack numbers, while impressive, actually understate Garrett's true value to the Browns defense. He is a disruptive force in ways that do not always show up in box scores. He commands double teams that open lanes for his teammates. He creates havoc in the backfield that forces quarterbacks into negative plays. His versatility along the defensive line has allowed the Browns to move him around and keep opposing offenses off balance. He has been named Pro Bowl and All-Pro multiple times, and there is no serious debate among defensive film scouts that he is the most dominant edge rusher in professional football right now.

What makes Garrett's Hall of Fame candidacy so compelling is that he has done this in an era when sacking the quarterback has become increasingly difficult. Modern offenses are more sophisticated, more creative in their pass protection schemes, and more adept at getting the ball out of the quarterback's hands quickly. The game has evolved in ways that make the life of a pass rusher more challenging than it was in the 1980s or even the 1990s. Yet Garrett has maintained an elite level of production despite these headwinds. He has made the Pro Bowl in six of his seven seasons in the NFL. That kind of consistency, that kind of excellence maintained over years and through the constant evolution of the game, is the hallmark of a future Hall of Famer.

There is something that needs to be said about the changing nature of Hall of Fame consideration in the modern era. In the past, players often had to wait years or even decades to be inducted, and some all-time greats were never voted in during their lifetime. The standards were different, the competition for spots was less understood, and there was sometimes a tendency toward conservatism in voting patterns. But in the current age, there is a growing recognition that excellence in the modern era deserves to be acknowledged as such. The game has changed, the level of competition has evolved, and the data we have about player performance is more granular and reliable than ever before. When we look at Aaron Rodgers and Myles Garrett against the historical standards for their respective positions, they stack up extraordinarily well.

Consider Rodgers alongside the great quarterbacks who currently reside in Canton. Johnny Unitas is rightly enshrined for his dominance in an era when the quarterback position was being defined. Dan Marino is there for his statistical achievements and consistency. Joe Montana is there for his championships and clutch performances. John Elway is there for his physical gifts and his ability to elevate his teammates. Rodgers fits comfortably in this pantheon. He has the statistical superiority over an era when the game was more balanced between offense and defense. He has the one championship to point to, though his lack of multiple titles has perhaps unfairly colored some opinions about his candidacy. He has the individual excellence that cannot be denied or dismissed.

Similarly, Garrett stands among the great defensive ends of the modern era. J.J. Watt, who has been named the Defensive Player of the Year three times, is presumed to be headed to Canton when he eventually retires. Michael Strahan, with 141.5 sacks, is already enshrined. Reggie White, the gold standard of the position, set the bar that all subsequent pass rushers are measured against. Garrett may not have the championship pedigree of some of these players, and he may not end his career with quite as many total sacks as some of his predecessors. But he has demonstrated a level of consistent excellence that is undeniable, and the prime of his career appears to still be ahead of him.

The reality of modern Hall of Fame voting is that it has become increasingly difficult to assemble a championship team that wins a Super Bowl, especially in an era of free agency and salary cap constraints. This has led to a more nuanced understanding of individual excellence as a valid pathway to the Hall. Rodgers may never win another championship, and if that is the case, he will still be inducted on the strength of his individual play. Garrett may never hoist a Lombardi Trophy, and he too will be enshrined on the basis of his dominance at his position. This represents an evolution in how we value NFL careers, and it is a necessary one if we are to properly acknowledge the greatest players in the modern game.