Cam Jordan Understands ‘the Beauty’ of His 14th NFL Season
Note: Sports Illustrated has chronicled this (maybe) final season of New Orleans Saints defensive lineman Cam Jordan. This is the third installment. You can read the first one here and the second one here.
Cam Jordan calls on his off day, a Tuesday in mid-December. It’s so packed with activity he doesn’t seem “off” at all. In response to a simple how ya doin’, he runs through his entire day to that point, roughly 7:30 p.m. in New Orleans. It takes 3 minutes, 22 seconds to list all 24 things already checked off the to-do list—film review, workout, defensive line fines, a school visit, a gift card giveaway, taping an interview with New York Giants pass rusher Kayvon Thibodeaux for Jordan’s podcast, a family photoshoot for a Super Bowl commercial and so much more.
In six days, he would sprint onto the field at the Superdome for perhaps the second-to-last time. He would partake in something like a party of quarterback pressures. He would register two sacks—or double his season total—in one afternoon and for the first time since the 2022 season. He would make six tackles, three solo. He would take down rookie superstar Jayden Daniels, quarterback No. 48 on Jordan’s personal sack-victim list. And he would raise his career tally for that statistic to 120.5, 32nd place all time with three games left in perhaps his final season.
One of his sacks from Sunday would be delivered in the third quarter, on third down near the goal line, with his Saints already trailing, 14–0. Jordan would read Daniels’s decision to keep the ball rather than hand it off, to move right while most of the rest of the offense went left, and then to attempt to throw. Jordan would reach Daniels before any pass could start, would drag the quarterback down and force a field goal that allowed New Orleans to embark on a remarkable comeback of so-close-not-quite. It would end with a failed two-point conversion that would have sealed the victory and win No. 6 in this sad trombone, tense season of what-if—the one exercise Jordan has refused to engage in.
Still, the timing continued to prove impossible to ignore. Sunday marked the fifth consecutive game in which Jordan played at least half of his team’s possible defensive snaps. The start of this streak coincided precisely with the five games in which Darren Rizzi has led New Orleans, after the organization fired its head coach, Dennis Allen, and made Rizzi, the special teams coordinator, its interim czar.
On Sunday, the Saints put Daniels under perpetual pressure, so many rushes from so many bodies clad in black jerseys that it seemed like his offensive line had taken the day off. New Orleans’s defensive line played its best game of the 2024 season, registering eight sacks. Jordan emphasized the changes in how that unit prepared under a new defensive line coach, Brian Young, afterward. Jordan explained how Young emphasized what Jordan brought up on his super Tuesday before the sack bonanza, a renewed focus on fundamentals and technique. He stressed Young’s experience with this position group.
Jordan chose his words carefully. But those judiciously chosen sentences hinted at what he had not said but had felt—and for weeks. He still won’t consider what might have been, under different coaches, in an alternate universe. He will only point out what the Saints did before this five-game stretch, in contrast to what they have done during it. At this point, nothing else needs to be said.
As he drives to the Saints’ facility on this Tuesday before the pressure party, Jordan sighs with relief at his four children and their performance at the shoot for Ochsner. All got the same reward: ice cream. Jordan’s reward, in his 14th and perhaps final NFL season: extra treatment, hence the drive and, soon, hot tub-cold tub-quick stretch.
“It has been a day,” he says.
Jordan’s quick to acknowledge the comfort in these routines, which have sustained him through everything that can be done in professional football except the one thing—a Super Bowl win—he hasn’t accomplished. Not yet. And, now, with four weeks remaining in perhaps his final season, maybe not ever.
That’s why Jordan is everywhere, even more than normal. The Saints nominated him as their Walter Payton NFL Man of the Year candidate. He’s also up for the Bart Starr Award, which goes to a player for outstanding character and leadership. He had recently spent the bye week in Los Angeles, making media appearances and deepening connections in one future field. Which happened after New Orleans fired head coach Dennis Allen in early November and won their next two games (Atlanta Falcons, Cleveland Browns). Then, back to New Orleans, where the Saints lost to the Los Angeles Rams on Dec. 1. Then, to New York, where they topped the Giants a week later.
Jordan laughs. “I remember my second, third year in the league,” he says. “I was like, ‘Man, I can’t wait to get that off day.’ And then you have kids, and you’re like, ‘Man, I gotta pack it all in before they get out of school at 3.’”
He laughs again. This life, season No. 14, can, in some ways, feel like all the others. But it’s different, too, in significant ways, and, as this Saints season that started with such promise slogs to a disappointing, injury-marred end, those differences are impossible to ignore.
For everyone, that is, except Jordan. The man compartmentalizes at an elite level. It’s all there—all the emotions, different tentacles of his legacy, fun and work and life, real life, ahead. And it’s all tinged by the season Jordan entered in what he labeled Revenge Mode, two blowout victories followed by a whole lot of … nothing good. Jordan understands this. It’s the NFL.
There’s no movie script ending to be written anymore. Not in 2024. But, as evidenced by his Tuesday, there’s still plenty left to do.
About that bye week. “I almost forgot about it,” Jordan says. “It seems like it’s so far away. So much has happened.”
He entered this bye week in a career of bye weeks on that win streak, disaster temporarily averted. Or slowed, at least. He saw momentum gathering in the building, and that momentum started with Rizzi, colorful special teams coordinator turned interim head coach. Colorful began with Rizzi’s upbringing in New Jersey and continued through stop after coaching stop, at multiple levels, in various roles, starting in 2003.
If anything, Jordan wanted to “keep rocking.” Meaning, if he could have shifted the bye to later on, he would have, in order to keep that momentum going. Still, all NFL players value that specific week. Even if just for the break from regular, painful collisions.
Jordan, whether his career ends after this season or when his contract runs out—after next season—also understood that this bye week would be different from the others. He plans to deepen his media presence in retirement. He doesn’t need to work, per se. He wants to, wants to learn and experience and try things he never could try while he played for all those seasons. Part of the trip to Los Angeles meant going on Good Morning Football, where he managed to multi-task, slamming the division rival Falcons once more in the NFL Network interview. He also appeared on Fox’s pregame show for Week 12.
Yeah, all over the place. Jordan flew to Florida to visit his chiropractor, the one Dwight Freeney referred him to, and get that body right for this season’s final stretch. He flew to New York next, to appear on The Tamron Hall Show—a Super Bowl ticket giveaway episode for an organization, Youth Empowerment Project, Jordan works with in New Orleans. He flew home to Arizona, after that, to visit family. While in the desert, he got emissions testing done for one of the family’s cars and spent time with his mother, Anita Jordan, who’s recovering from a stroke in 2021. He hung out with his brother, his nieces and nephews, and his father, longtime NFL tight end Steve Jordan, too. Then, Los Angeles, where Jordan made sure to take his wife, Nikki, to date night at a Lakers game. With all the media appearances, he couldn’t possibly neglect her. “Gotta take care of wifey,” he says. “Get my brownie points.”
He’s asked, after running through all that, whether he considered the week that was. That week, with maybe some spreading out of events and visits, could be his life. In, like, a month. If the Saints, as expected, fail to make the playoffs, and if Jordan chooses to retire.
“Absolutely not,” the compartmentalizer says.
Of course he’d say that. Jordan’s approach to this 14th season—new role, dwindling snap counts, injuries and twists aplenty—has remained a healthy pursuit. Sports Illustrated has chronicled this (maybe) final season. This marks the third installment. Jordan says he can only deal with what’s in front of him—and what’s in front of him is four more weeks of football and then and only then … everything else.
“I barely know what I have to do next Monday,” he says. “I won’t deal with that until the weekend gets closer. I don’t cloud my mind on things I can’t control.”
This season qualifies as part of that. In the aftermath of Allen’s midseason firing, numerous outlets have reported that the locker room embraced Rizzi’s approach, which centers on building stronger relationships with players like … Jordan. Practice schedules have been adjusted. Players now get an extra hour of sleep before reporting to team headquarters. Reps have been increased at practices. But each is done with less intensity, especially as any single week rolls toward Sunday.
All of which adds up to: A locker room filled with players who wanted change have gotten it. The results—and some physical healing—have brightened a lost season. More on that in future installments.
For now, Jordan brings up what he calls “the coaches’ debacle, stand-down, whatever it is” himself. “You hate to see a guy like DA leave,” he says, continuing with a summary assessment. “There wasn’t a lot of trust in the locker room toward him at the beginning. And, you know, this is a business, and that’s what happens when you don’t win.”
He pauses, as if sorting through what he will say next. “You know what? At what we had assumed the standard of play was going to be, we would have had a fair chance at the Super Bowl, right?” (Maybe? Maybe, especially, after those two blowout wins to open the season?) “You know, it just hurts,” Jordan says. “I’m not even sure this season was all DA’s fault, when you have eight out of 11 starters [on defense] who were hurt early on.”
He cites Marshon Lattimore, the elite cornerback New Orleans shipped to Washington at midseason. Lattimore was so banged up he still hasn’t played for the Commanders.
The game against the Rams (Week 13) marked a good example of so many factors that went into the Saints’ current record, 5–9. This was after the coach swap—after the locker room turned toward Rizzi—after the bye week.
The Saints led a fringe playoff opponent at the half. Derek Carr was back at quarterback, after injuries had claimed part of his season, too. New Orleans lost that game in the fourth quarter, but the Saints fought, hard and well. The focus on fundamentals was yielding improvement, while turning the defense into the force most had expected. They still had too many injured players. Which is how a defense and a defensive line considered to be the team’s primary strength entering the season failed to stop the Rams’ offense as it chugged down their home field for a game-winning, fourth-quarter score.
Defenses Jordan played on spent many seasons halting drives just like that one, en route to division titles and playoff appearances. Not so in 2024.
All things, though, are true. This season is part of Jordan’s on-field legacy. But it’s only part, and his specific legacy extends far beyond the field, too. He holds all of these competing, contrasting elements inside the same body, the same brain. That approach ensures that 2024 isn’t some sort of swan song, with opposing franchises (minus, of course, Atlanta) giving out rocking chairs and canes as a way to celebrate his long and lasting professional football impact.
Jordan says he views the Walter Payton and Bart Starr nominations as their own, separate competitions. He wants to win, and he notes that competition in his own locker room among the community-minded is fierce. To even obtain the Saints’ nominations for both counts already as two victories.
As for the Starr award, he laughs once more. “I mean, leadership, I’ll take it,” Jordan says. “But character? I don’t know, man.”
He’s rolling now, cackles spilling from his belly through his mouth. He mentions the houndstooth pattern, which alternates light and dark checks on fabric. “You’re like, ‘Oh, these jagged edges, it doesn’t seem like they go together,’ ” he says. “But when you see the bigger picture, you’re like, ‘All right, this is what it is.’ Of course I would love to win every game. I’d love to beat the brakes off every team and not look back and win the Super Bowl.”
He pauses, laughing no longer. “But, you know, through all the trials and tribulations, through the adverse times, you understand the beauty of it all.”
Told that his sentiment was beautiful but the analogy needed a beat more explanation, Jordan says, “I mean, as a D-lineman, do I want to be known as a good guy?” More cackling. “I’m trying to be somebody’s worst nightmare.”
“It’s vindicating to be put back out there on the edge after 11 games of being shut down as just an interior rusher. Whenever I’m in the rotation, whatever the role, I’m just trying to be part of the solution.”
- Cam Jordan
Jordan has summoned that dude at various points in 2024, especially in recent weeks. Despite ranking 32nd on the NFL’s all-time sacks list, Jordan didn’t pick up his first this season until Nov. 10. He shifted inside, almost primarily, when he did see the field, which happened less and less until Rizzi took over. That this sack came against Atlanta—again, pure-and-consistent hatred spews from Jordan there—made it especially significant. But that sack—and four other QB hits in the past four weeks—also didn’t change the baseline of this season. It still hurts. It will, for a while.
“It’s vindicating to be put back out there on the edge after 11 games of being shut down as just an interior rusher,” he says. “Whenever I’m in the rotation, whatever the role, I’m just trying to be part of the solution.”
He’s asked if he’s proud of how he handled the first 11 weeks. “Oh, man,” he says. “You could always handle things better; you could always handle things worse. When you look at how I was treated in the building, it was in high regard. But how I was treated on the field was a full lack of respect. I would say that my résumé speaks for itself.”
Jordan says the New Orleans defensive line focused more on technique in recent weeks, which led to an uptick in the unit’s collective play. He says that started with Brian Young, who marked a significant improvement over his previous position, because Young had experience coaching defensive linemen, while the previous unit lead did not. Those weeks unfolded more like most expected the season would unfold—from him, the defensive line and the defense overall. The Saints beat the Giants on an afternoon when the offense mustered all of 14 points.
In this everywhere existence, in season No. 14, Jordan even found time to serve on the Super Bowl host committee. The city that adopted him will host Super Bowl LIX in February. Told that such positions are often cited but never really explained, Jordan laughs again. He has parked his car and is headed inside the same building, the one he has called “office” for so long.
He mentions “activations” in advance of the biggest game in American sports. Events he’ll take part in. Narratives—like what’s written about New Orleans—he’ll help shape. He also hopes that, in serving, he will gain access to even more power brokers who might help with his broader foundation efforts in the years ahead. Ideally, he’ll turn a Super Bowl in New Orleans into efforts that better the same place. “I mean, that alone speaks volumes,” he says, “and it doesn’t tell anybody anything, right?”
Another laugh. He’s still pushing, still trying, still focused on football for however long this ride will last. Most analysts see this as his final season. Jordan’s not ready to join their chorus, not yet. “You work your butt off until you can’t anymore,” he says, “and then you look for ways to better yourself.”
“You work your butt off until you can’t anymore, and then you look for ways to better yourself.”
- Jordan
Any regrets, specifically, in 2024? “I regret I wasn’t one step faster to close that game out myself,” Jordan says, referencing the victory over the Giants, where a teammate blocked a late field goal attempt that would have tied it. On third down, right before the kick, Jordan had dusted the guard in front of him, chased down quarterback Drew Lock and even smacked into Lock as his palm released the football.
Could have been another sack. “I’ve never been selfish about sacks anyway,” he says. “If you don’t want to use my proven method, that’s on you, as the head chef, and I’m just the ingredients to what could be an amazing pie.”
Jordan climbs into the cold tub. How to follow that answer? He’s still going on this off day with no “off.” Soon, he will climb out and drive home, Jordan says. He’ll drive toward a future he’s still defining, a game where he will turn back the clock and a family he’ll soon spend a lot more time with.
“You can add this to my day,” Jordan says. “I’m gonna get chewed out by the wife in about 20 minutes. Then I’m gonna go to bed.”