As a 68-year-old Dan Simmons sat in the NFL Equipment Manager meeting in Houston back in 2015 where he was to be honored with a lifetime achievement award, he saw fresh young faces around him, looking at him in awe of what the eyes of The Chief of the New Orleans Saints had seen and lived. As the only staff member of the team with the longest tenure, it was a given– If you knew anything about the franchise, you’d know Dan.

Described as the thread of the fabric that is the New Orleans Saints, before he was hired on April 1, 1973, he worked with his father Bill as an assistant equipment manager for the St. Louis Cardinals. As fate would have it, the then Saints coach who had been with the Cardinals before, asked for an equipment manager. And there came the Chief, and he had been there ever since.

For his 42-year-long tenure as an Equipment Manager for the Saints, every player’s jersey has gone through his watch. From cleats to shoulder pads, he ensured that the locker room was running smoothly. But he was much more than the quiet behind-the-scenes presence for the Saints.

When he retired as the Equipment Manager back in 2014, he laughed while cleaning out his closet, something he had done for several players and coaches who had come and gone in front of him. While he could clear his things from the locker room, he could not clear the bonds he had created in the team. One of them was with Drew Brees, the former QB with whom he would come into the facility early in the morning, both preparing for the day together. Surely, as they all gave a final salute to The Chief, who passed away at the age of 78, Brees had to show up.

“Chief was a legend! And will always be remembered!” Brees wrote on his Instagram story for the Saints member he had bonded over the fourteen years that the two were together in New Orleans. According to US Newsper, the Super Bowl XLIV champion also said that Dan was “A special man who touched the lives of everyone in the Saints organization.” And indeed, he did.

For former kicker Morten Andersen, he was a “Connector on many levels” who introduced him to his wife, Jennifer. Not just that, he was like his father figure– You need a kicking, he had it; you need a pat on the back, he was the first to do it. Never sugar-coating anything but still presenting everything with a bright smile, that’s who Chief was. Former OT Stan Brock requested for him as his presenter when he was being inducted into the Saints Hall of Fame.

He was the “Steady hand in a hurricane,” as Morten Andersen put it. From Vietnam vet to NFL equipment Yoda, Chief’s 858-game resume saw him handle equipment needs of thousands of players are 14 franchise’s head coaches.

When Drew Brees arrived in 2006, Simmons was already 30 years deep, stitching together a team culture as resilient as his military-grade stitching. Simmons had a knack for making rookies feel like pros. Even Archie Manning, the Saints‘ OG QB1, admitted, “Dan was THE best. If I was going to sum up Dan, it was kindness. Such a humble, kind person. If everybody in the Saints organization could have done their job like Dan, we would have won a lot more championships.” But his legacy speaks for him.

Simmons got a 2010 Saints Hall of Fame nod, and 2022 Pro Football Hall of Fame “Award of Excellence” as he continued serving behind the scenes with humility. “He never sought attention,” Manning added. For Brees, whose own career drips with “You can always be a little better” grit, Simmons was the silent partner in every 5,000-yard season. When Hurricane Katrina drowned New Orleans, Brees’ foundation rebuilt the city; Simmons rebuilt the soul, one perfectly fitted shoulder pad at a time.

Gridiron glue: When the locker room was Drew Brees’ family

The Saints’ Super Bowl XLIV win wasn’t just Brees’ magnum opus—it was Chief’s masterpiece too. Imagine prepping 53 players’ gear for the biggest game of their lives, each sock, each chin strap, a prayer. “He handled the equipment needs for thousands of players,” read the Saints’ statement, but “handled” feels too small. Simmons orchestrated. He was the ‘Alfred to Brees’ Batman,’ the steady presence in a league where careers flicker like halftime fireworks.

After retiring in 2014, Simmons stuck around as the alumni/legends coordinator for the next ten years. “He and Silky [Powell] behind that window… it just felt right,” Andersen said, comparing their duo to “A good pair of kicking shoes.” That’s the thing about legends: they outlast eras. Brees hung up his cleats in 2021, but Simmons kept stitching bonds, bridging Sean Payton’s swagger to Dennis Allen’s new-gen hustle.

Football’s magic isn’t just in the Hail Mary’s—it’s in the hands that tape ankles, polish helmets, and whisper, “You got this.” Simmons’ legacy is a reminder that greatness isn’t always loud. It’s the hum of a sewing machine at midnight, the wink to a nervous rookie, the ‘We’ll fix it’ when chaos reigns.

Brees’ four-word eulogy? Perfectly succinct, like a two-minute drill. But the real tribute lives in every Saints alum who still calls the Dome home, every thread in a jersey that outlasts a career. For Saints Nation, it’s the Chiefs that keep you believing. Rest easy, legend. Your playbook’s eternal.