For almost a decade, mornings just hit different with Good Morning Football. And a huge part of that was Peter Schrager. Whether it was ranking the best third-string wide receivers or diving into the most random NFL debates. The show had this unfiltered, passionate energy that made football talk feel like a chill hangout. It wasn’t just about the X’s and O’s. It was about the love for the game, the friendships on set, and the weird, hilarious moments that made it special. But now, one of its biggest voices is stepping away.

Peter Schrager officially signed off for the last time, closing out a nine-year run that helped shape Good Morning Football into the must-watch show it became. It is a trademark candor in his goodbye: “It is my last show on Good Morning Football and this is my last ever segment on the program. I’ve been with the show for nine years… living, breathing, being Good Morning Football.” He reflected on the show’s improbable rise from a 2016 experiment to a daily ritual for NFL fans. With his departure, Kyle Brandt now stands as the sole original cast member—a symbolic shift for the program.

Schrager’s role transcended analysis. He was the show’s connective tissue, blending insider access with unfiltered enthusiasm. Whether breaking down film, teasing scoops, or riffing on obscure NFL trivia, his authenticity resonated. He highlighted the grind behind the scenes: “When everyone else went away for the summer or dove into the NBA Finals or the Olympics or the Home Run Derby, we were tasked with a three-hour show about NFL football. And somehow, someway, it worked.”

Kyle Brandt, his ride-or-die co-host from day one, didn’t hold back: “He’s one of the hardest-working guys in the business.” Jamie Erdahl and Jason McCourty hit us right in the feels with their posts, while NFL OGs like Manti Te’o and Nate Burleson gave him props for keeping the game’s stories real.

Of course, Peter Schrager’s farewell was packed with love for the people who made the show what it was. He gave Kyle Brandt a huge shoutout, calling him “one-of-one talent” and a lifelong friend, saying, “You have never mailed in a single segment or single episode on this show. You are a friend for life… I love you, Kyle Brandt.” Then, he showed major respect for Jamie Erdahl, hyping her up for balancing the show and her family life like an absolute pro. “Jamie Erdahl, you are the leader of the show right now, and you never have a bad attitude. This woman wakes up at 2 a.m. in the morning and has three children at home under the age of five, and she has become one of the faces of the NFL.”

But the real heart of his goodbye? It was about what made Good Morning Football different. While other shows chased big headlines or tried to out-yell each other, Schrager and the crew just loved talking football—no drama, no nonsense. “See, we love football on this show. We don’t love seeing our names in headlines. We don’t love screaming the loudest we can.” Finally, he said, “We love football.” That’s why fans kept coming back—it felt real.

Beyond the studio’s glow, Schrager was football’s restless wanderer—popping up at Super Bowl sidelines, draft night green rooms, and sweaty training camps, mic in hand and that same crackling energy trailing behind him like a comet tail. What’s next? He’s playing his cards close to the vest. But let’s be real: Schrager doesn’t leave football; he just remixes how he preaches its gospel. “I won’t be far away. I’ll be talking about football somewhere,” he grinned, a quarterback hinting at a trick play we’ll all see soon enough.

And just like that—snap—the screen cuts. Good Morning Football rolls on, but the vibe’s shifted. No more Schrager lobbing hot takes like Hail Marys or dissecting film like a mad scientist. Wrapping up his final act, he dropped the mic softly, not with a roar but a lump-in-your-throat whisper: “Thanks for watching. Love you all. It’s been an honor. Thank you. Thank you.”

NFL Terry Bradshaw eyes retirement after Super Bowl

The lights of FOX NFL Sunday still gleam, but Terry Bradshaw—the silver-haired gunslinger turned broadcasting icon—is eyeing the horizon. At 76, the man who once dodged linebackers now dances with a different kind of clock: time. In a recent interview, Bradshaw pulled back the curtain on his endgame, his drawl tinged with equal parts wit and weariness. “I told my wife before I left the room a while ago, I’m sitting there, I said, ‘I’ve got two years left at FOX. I’m 76,” he confessed. Then, with the blunt clarity of a man who’s thrown 212 career touchdowns: “Okay, so it’s a young man’s game. I get that. Everybody wants the new. And so I said, ‘If we can get to the next Super Bowl, I’ll be 80. That’s, I think, that’s time.’ 80 years old, that’s pushing it.”

This isn’t just a retirement tease—it’s a love letter to a life spent in football’s glow. The Pittsburgh legend’s story reads like a playbook of reinvention: Hall of Fame quarterback (class of ’89) morphs into TV’s irrepressible uncle, cracking jokes and tossing zingers alongside Strahan and Long for three decades. But age, like a blitzing safety, waits for no one. Health scares have nudged him toward the edge of the booth he’s owned since 1994. Still, true to form, he spins mortality into dark comedy: “I told Fox: ‘If I could just die on the show, think about the ratings, right? Are we not about ratings? That’d be huge. Not only that, there would be a huge carryover.’”

The man’s earned his swan song. Louisiana recently carved out a day in his honor, celebrating the kid from Shreveport who became a four-ring Steelers legend and TV’s everyman analyst. Yet even as tributes pour in, Bradshaw is weighing his final drive. Super Bowl 63 in 2029 looms as his potential last call—a mic drop at 80.

His FOX family isn’t ready. Michael Strahan, voice cracking like a rookie at his first snap, laid it bare: “We love you here.” Howie Long, his wingman for 31 seasons, grinned through nostalgia: “It’s been fun… a lot of laughs.” But the audience? Split. Social media crackles with takes hotter than a tailgate grill. One critic sneers: “Terry Bradshaw needs to hang it up. He’s embarrassing himself at this point.” Another lobs: “Bradshaw is ‘over the hill’ and needs to retire for good.”

Bradshaw hears it all. The cheers, the jeers, the ticking clock. Yet beneath the self-deprecating quips lies steel. This is the same QB who once stared down the Steel Curtain defense and laughed. Now, he’s staring down time itself.