TAMPA, Fla. — Seven weeks into the 2024 season, Buccaneers wide receiver Chris Godwin was on pace for a career year and a payday fit for the CEO of a tech company.
Then, a dislocated ankle ended his season and changed everything.
As he turned 29 in late February, Godwin still had not been offered a new deal by the Bucs, even though his contract was expiring in less than a month. He had a lot to think about.
Does my team still value me?
Will other teams want to take a chance on my ankle even though they don’t know me?
Should I see if the grass is greener?
During the combine, the Bucs contacted his agent, Tory Dandy. They wanted Godwin back, they said, but there was only so much they could offer given their budget, salary-cap considerations, Godwin’s injury and the contract recently given to fellow wide receiver Mike Evans, which will pay him more than $25 million in 2025.
But four other teams wanted Godwin, with the Patriots and Steelers at the forefront, according to Godwin.
The Bucs made their best offer, and then the Patriots came hard, offering an average of $30 million per year on a multiyear deal, he says. And it’s possible there was more juice to be squeezed there. The Buccaneers’ offer was for three years at $66 million, averaging $22 million per season.
Dandy explained he would be leaving generational money on the table if he passed up the Patriots’ offer.
Bucs general manager Jason Licht could only sweat, thinking one of the best players he drafted and fostered was leaving the nest.
One opinion mattered to Godwin — his wife Mariah’s. They went over the possibilities and concluded they would take less, much less, to stay in Tampa.
What people who don’t know Godwin couldn’t understand was why.
Some play for money.
Some play for glory.
Some play for ego.
Godwin plays for others.
Shortly after graduating from eighth grade, he met Mariah DelPercio, whose father, Mark DelPercio, became his coach at Middletown High School.
It wasn’t long before Chris and Mariah were hanging out. They dated on the sly for about two years before their secret could no longer be kept.
They went to Penn State together. When Chris trained for the NFL Scouting Combine in Pensacola, Fla., she went with him. Then, she moved to Tampa when the Bucs drafted him.
Now married for four years and together for 15, they flow together well, partly because they share interests. He took up chess recently; she followed suit. They both got into photography around the time they married and decided to chronicle their lives by taking a Polaroid photo of the two of them every day and pasting it in a scrapbook. Their first was on June 10, 2021.
Chris and Mariah Godwin have taken a Polaroid together every day over the last four years. (Courtesy of Chris Godwin)
Dogs have become a mutual passion. It started when they brought Ghost, a Pomsky, to their family. Then they adopted Ziggy, an American Staffordshire Terrier, from the Tampa Humane Society. They also partnered with the society through the Chris Godwin Foundation and made regular visits to the shelter to play with their dogs.
Chris calls Tampa “the perfect place for me and who I am.”
Year-round sunshine and warmth, along with an emphasis on healthy eating, agree with Chris and Mariah. They appreciate the big-city opportunities, even though they are mostly homebodies. Their sweet spot is a suburban house they purchased a few years ago, and the plan is to live there for as long as they can envision.
Godwin has also been ingrained in his team since his rookie year, when Evans treated him like a brother rather than the threat he was.
In Godwin’s first year as a starter, he had 19 more catches and 176 more receiving yards than Evans, who by then was a three-time Pro Bowler with five straight 1,000-yard seasons.
“Not a single time throughout that year did Mike mention anything to me or anybody about the targets I was getting and the success that I was having, even though he had been the franchise receiver, the No. 1 receiver,” Godwin says. “You would expect some kind of animosity, like, ‘Hey, if I’m your guy, why is he getting all of that?’”
Anyone who labels Evans and Godwin as No. 1 and No. 2, or 1A and 1B, misses their essence. Each is a component of a duo, arguably football’s finest.
They make one another better, yes, but they also sacrifice for the other. If Evans had not been across the field all these years, Godwin probably would have been the recipient of many more targets, touchdowns, honors and dollars.
Licht says he wouldn’t be surprised if Godwin is listed as a beneficiary in Evans’ will.
Godwin believes they will be connected forever, but he also wants to be his teammate as long as he can.
“When me and Mike are done, long gone from this organization, I think we’re going to look back on this time and say it was rare to have what we had,” Godwin says.
Wide receivers Mike Evans, left, and Chris Godwin have been a dynamic duo in Tampa Bay since 2017. (Nathan Ray Seebeck / USA Today)
The way Godwin sees it, he’s just a spoke in a wheel.
Evans is one of many Bucs, including support staff workers, who made Godwin want to remain in Tampa. The organization is as comfortable to him as worn-in cleats.
“It’s not always the case that you are surrounded by a ton of good people who care about the right things, who have similar goals and treat people with respect,” he says. “The first thing for me is I want to work with people that I enjoy it with.”
Godwin’s most productive season came with Jameis Winston throwing to him. He won a Super Bowl with Tom Brady. And his chemistry with Baker Mayfield is special.
“Incredibly fun to play with,” he says. “There’s something infectious about the mentality that he goes with. He’s such a gritty player, and you don’t really see that too often from quarterbacks, right?”
Mayfield, Evans and Godwin, along with their spouses, are part of a group of Bucs and former Bucs who get together for regular game nights. Others include Cam Brate, Ryan Griffin, Anthony Nelson, Cade Otton and their wives. They play Fishbowl, Taboo, Mafia, Spades, Spoons and Presidents and A–holes!
They eat, share, laugh and bond.
“Here, we’re able to play games, have real conversations and build genuine relationships as opposed to ones that are just transactional,” Godwin says.
When they play games, they don’t text, scroll social media or watch videos. They are present. And they are competitive.
Godwin’s video game username, “Chillguy13,” is appropriate most of the time. On game nights, he can show a different side. During a recent game, Mariah was talking with another wife and was not completely engaged. Chris stopped her. “Hey,” he said forcefully. “You really need to lock in. You are not going to be the reason we lose.”
What he really wants to win is another Super Bowl, especially for the teammates who weren’t around when they won the last one. Only eight remain on the roster from the Super Bowl LV champs.
He thought a Super Bowl was a possibility in 2024. On the morning of Oct. 21, Godwin was leading the NFL in receptions, receiving touchdowns, receiving first downs and yards after the catch, and ranked third in receiving yards. He never could have known how his fate would twist that day.
The injury happened with the Bucs trailing the Ravens by 10 with about a minute left. Godwin caught a pass from Mayfield. Many receivers, in that situation, would have gone down immediately. Godwin, though, tried for more yards.
“One thing that bugs me is when guys quit and give up too soon,” he says. “I’m going to play until the game is over. And that was what I was doing.”
He was tackled from behind and tried to get up quickly. He couldn’t. Face down, he tried dragging himself with his fists on the ground. He looked back at his leg and saw his left foot turned sideways in a way a foot is not supposed to turn.
He heard one of the defenders standing behind him say, “Oh, s—.”
ESPN, which was broadcasting the game, wouldn’t allow its viewers to watch the play again.
Godwin started thinking about Mariah and worried about how worried she’d be. Godwin imagined her, nearly eight months pregnant at the time, running down from the stands to be with him. He asked that somebody call her.
Then, a cart appeared. For the first time in his life, Godwin didn’t walk off the field. He saw the sympathy on the faces of teammates and opponents, and the stadium seemed as silent as a desert after sundown.
As the cart drove off, he thought about what was next — surgery, months of rehab and the long, winding road. “Back to work,” he said.
A video of that went viral. What happened next was seen by almost no one.
In the tunnel, Mariah was waiting. Together, they sobbed.
“We put so much into this, so much time and effort,” he says. “And the reality is, no matter how much you put into it, everything can change in a moment. We took a picture of us that morning with no idea how things would change a few hours later, and we talk about that still, never knowing what moment could change a portion of your life.”
A devastating injury last October cost Chris Godwin the rest of the season. He expects to be ready for opening day 2025. (Nathan Ray Seebeck / Imagn Images)
He didn’t just dislocate his ankle. Godwin also fractured his fibula, tore his deltoid and had a high ankle sprain. Surgeons inserted a plate and screws in his bone.
The post-op swelling was considerable, and he says the pain was a 14 or 15 on a scale of 10, the worst he ever felt, considerably worse than what he felt after an ACL tear in 2021. Godwin doesn’t take painkillers, but he took them for two days after his ankle surgery.
For six weeks, he couldn’t put weight on his ankle. The rehab process, he recalls, was physically taxing and mentally difficult, but he was focused — unusually focused.
“He wanted to find the joy in it,” Mariah says. “He didn’t want to wallow in what could have been. And he hasn’t spent a single second after that first day feeling sorry for himself. Instead, he’s been celebrating every single little win on his way back.”
Curling his toes for the first time was a cause for celebration. “It was a small win, but a win nonetheless,” he says.
Other wins included moving his ankle — to the side, up and down, and around — going from a scooter to crutches, bearing weight for the first time, walking, balancing on one leg, riding a bike, jogging, squatting and jumping.
One of the most disappointing aspects to him is that he was unable to help Mariah in the late stages of her pregnancy.
“I was supposed to be picking up around the house and making sure she had everything she needed,” he says. “Instead, she was taking care of me while I spent most of the day laying on the couch with my foot elevated.”
He made up for it after he was mobile and they became parents on Jan. 2. For the first month of Ace Kehlo Godwin’s life, Chris wouldn’t let his wife change a diaper, she says. When the baby woke at night, they took turns tending to him.
Chris is wearing fatherhood well. These days, Ace’s smiles and giggles make him forget about the sleep his son cost him the night before. Chris and Ace have a morning routine. Dad sings a song and dances for him.
Godwin has wanted to be a father for a long time — the same kind of father that his dad, Rod, was. Godwin is named after his father, as his full name is Rod Christopher Godwin Jr.
Chris’ dad died about a year and a half ago. Now, Chris wants to honor the memory of his father, whom he credits with giving him the freedom and confidence to chase his dreams.
“I want my child to feel the same love my father poured into me and my siblings,” he says. “I have this privilege to be a steward of this young boy, and it’s the coolest damn thing in the world to me.”
Being fully cleared to return to the field will be pretty cool, too, but for now the training room window separates him from practicing teammates. He works alone, honing explosive movements and change-of-direction abilities.
When he comes back, things will be different. They always are.
He might not be the same after the injury. The Bucs have a new offensive coordinator as Josh Grizzard has replaced Liam Coen. There is another wide receiver mouth to feed after the first-round selection of Emeka Egbuka.
Still, Godwin expects his role to be similar to what it was in 2024, when he played primarily in the slot, as he had from 2019 through 2022.
“Last year verified for me that the slot is where I feel most comfortable, where I can be most involved in the game and do the most damage,” he says.
Godwin’s production has never been the result of nine routes that leave a trail of vapor. He’s not the type of playmaker who shows up every week on “You Got Mossed.”
He has dominated with movements that are subtle, precision that is surgical, and grit that is commanding. And he has been consistent like an atomic clock.
Godwin’s style of play could bode well for him in his post-ankle injury phase. Certainly, the Bucs, Patriots and Steelers saw it that way. The Bucs wouldn’t have given him $44 million in guaranteed money if they had doubts.
Licht says he believes Godwin will make a major contribution this season. Godwin’s expectation is to be lined up in the slot in the season opener, making catches and helping the Bucs win games — being a spoke in a wheel — as he was last season and the seven before.
Godwin deeply appreciates all he has in Tampa. “If I ended up going to New England, it would have been solely based off money because everything else was telling me to stay here,” he says.
The night after signing his new contract, he FaceTimed his brother Marcus Godwin. Ace was strapped to a carrier around his father’s chest.
Marcus: “What are you doing to celebrate?”
Chris: “Eating some beef jerky and putting my son to sleep.”
Staying home, surrounded by what means the most to him, is everything.
(Illustration: Kelsea Petersen / The Athletic; photos: Icon Sportswire / Getty, Julio Aguilar / Getty)