This Story That Former Patriots Guard Rich Ohrnberger Told On Julian Edelman's Podcast About Randy Moss Is Gold
I saw this post this morning and laughed out loud watching it.
Former Patriots lineman Rich Ohrnberger told this story on Julian Edelman’s Games With Names podcast, and it perfectly encapsulates who Randy Moss was- a true generational talent with the comedic instincts of a man who never needed a filter.
Unbeknownst to me until I just googled, Ohrnberger came into the league in 2009. He was just a rookie trying to find his place on a Patriots roster that looked more like the cast of The Expendables than a football team. You had Brady, Belichick, Welker, and Randy Moss-one of the most electric, outspoken players in the game.
The only problem for Ohrnberger was that Moss didn’t realize he was actually a player. Instead, Moss just started calling him “Coach.”
Not as a joke. Not ironically. The man sincerely believed this 23-year-old backup lineman was part of the staff.
For months, Moss just kept calling him "Coach". In the locker room. On the field. Probably during film study. You can picture Moss walking past him with a “What’s good, Coach?”
It all came crashing down during one of Belichick’s team meetings, when he asked the rookies to introduce themselves.
When Ohrnberger stood up and said he was a player, Moss was in disbelief.
Moss immediately yelled, “You a player?! Ah, hell no, Bill! Did we waste a draft pick?!”
That’s so Randy Moss it hurts- equal parts hysterical, insulting, and completely honest. He wasn’t trying to be mean. He was just saying what 31 other NFL veterans were probably thinking. Ohrnberger realized “Coach” wasn’t a term of endearment. It was Moss’s way of saying, “You look like you’ve been divorced twice and yell at refs for fun.”
Laugh out loud funny.
Imagine being a rookie, already terrified of Belichick’s death stare, and now Randy Moss, the coolest fucking guy in the league, is roasting you like Comedy Central special before practice.
Randy Moss didn’t operate in the same universe as normal humans. The man once told a reporter, “I play when I wanna play,” and somehow made it sound like philosophy. I will never forgive the football gods (both new and old) for how they did Randy Moss.
Man, 2007 was straight-up storybook stuff for Randy Moss. You couldn’t have written a better comeback arc if you tried. The guy went from being labeled “washed” in Oakland to absolutely rewriting the record books in Foxborough. It wasn’t just a good season- it was the season. The most touchdowns ever by a receiver, thrown to him by the quarterback who set the record for the most touchdown passes ever. That offense was an atomic bomb. Every other possession was a touchdown. Defensive coordinators were drinking Maalox by the gallon. I argue it was the most fun a fanbase has ever had rooting for a team. We were so fucking spoiled it was crazy.
And the best part was that it felt like destiny. Like every single reason Moss came to New England- every quote about wanting to “win a Super Bowl,” every practice where Belichick actually smiled for two seconds, it all felt like it was heading toward that one moment. The dream, t he ring, and the redemption.
But then the fucking Giants happened. And the football gods, who had been watching us all season like we were their favorite TV show, decided to change the script in the finale. 18-1.
It still makes me want to puke. That was supposed to be the moment for Moss. The crowning achievement for a guy who had gone from misunderstood to messiah. And when that fell apart, I think something inside him never fully came back.
He’d given everything. He restructured his deal, took home barely five million in 2007, and still had the best statistical season by a wide receiver in NFL history.
So when 2008 rolled around and he finally got a modest extension- (three years, $27 million, 14 guaranteed), it felt like stability. It felt like the dynasty had another run in it. Same squad, with the same firepower. One more chance at the dream. And everybody in New England genuinely believed it was going top happen.
Then Brady’s knee exploded in Week 1.
And honestly, that was the real tragedy. Because yeah, the Pats still went 11-5 with Matt freaking Cassel (which is a miracle on its own), but they missed the playoffs. And I will die on this hill that if Brady doesn’t get hurt, that team probably goes undefeated again. The schedule was soft, the chemistry was perfect, and Moss was still uncoverable. But instead, we got a cruel reminder that football never promises happy endings.
2009 was the encore. Moss did Moss things- 80 catches, 1,300 yards, 13 touchdowns (fucking insane, even by today's numbers), but the team was slipping. The locker room felt off. And the magic was fading.
By then, Moss was in the final year of his contract, and frustration was brewing. The guy had averaged 1,250 yards and 15 touchdowns per year in New England and still wasn’t paid like a top-five receiver. He wasn’t wrong to be pissed.
And that’s where his new agent comes in. The man who, in my eyes, completely ruined what could’ve been a legacy-defining ending. Randy went from his longtime agent, who negotiated his extension after he came to New England, Tim DiPiero, and hired this new guy, Joel Segal, who decided to encourage Randy to start speaking out and start rocking the boat. Instead of quietly extending one of the greatest wideouts to ever wear a Patriots jersey, there was noise. Grumbling about money. Leverage plays. Stirring the pot at the worst possible time for a player who, let’s be honest, didn’t exactly need much encouragement to speak his mind.
I will never forget Moss' postgame comments after a game in Miami where he suddenly sounded like old Vikings/Raiders Moss. And I knew then and there shit was bad and he was probably gone.
Randy’s frustration about his contract mixed with the sting of never getting that Super Bowl and the rise of Gronk and Hernandez- the new toys on the field. Suddenly, he was being used as a decoy in a contract year, and you could just feel it boiling. And then boom, he gets traded. And that was that.
The saddest part of it all was that it wasn’t supposed to end like that. Not for Randy. Not for us. He should’ve gone out with a ring, holding the Lombardi with Brady and Belichick, not fading out on the 49ers roster like some forgotten epilogue. There’s never been another Randy Moss. And there never will be.