Jason Kelce’s humanity made him a Hall of Famer for the Eagles, Philly — and the media

Jason Kelce stood in the middle of his Super Bowl “House Party,” with many clamoring for a moment of his time, and spoke with the least important person in attendance.

At one point during the conversation, someone interrupted with a proposition for the Eagles center’s already-in-demand post-football career, and Kelce politely asked for more time to finish one of many chats he would have during a private gathering in Las Vegas last month.

It didn’t matter who he engaged with — from celebrities to famous athletes, from family members to friends, from business associates to potential future partners, from revelers to a lowly reporter who somehow found his way into the celebration — Kelce was present in each interaction that night.

His immediacy was no different than the way he treated nearly everyone he encountered during his 13 seasons in Philadelphia. Kelce had many traits that helped propel him from a sixth-round draft pick to a future Hall of Famer, but his innate ability to be in the moment may have been his most defining.

“We’ll see how long this lasts,” Kelce said on Monday before opening a vein and announcing his retirement at NovaCare Complex.

» READ MORE: Jason Kelce ended his Eagles career with a speech that was raw and real and completely him

There might not have been actual blood, but there were plenty of tears, some sweat, and certainly the symbolism of the Churchillian phrase that could describe the passion Kelce put into the game and made him a Philly legend.

He cried for most of the first three minutes as he sat in front of an assembled crowd that included his wife, Kylie, brother Travis, and parents Ed and Donna seated in the front row, along with many members of the Eagles organization.

Kelce, characteristically underdressed in an “Eagles” tank top and flip-flops, then sobbed off and on for the next 41 minutes. He addressed many of the themes of his career he’s delved into before: his underdog journey, his mid-career lull, and the hard work and determination that made him a six-time first-team All-Pro in the final seven years of his career.

But what he left out — and, really, it wasn’t for him to recount — was his humanity. Those closest to him have detailed it before. And the many who have come in contact with him from Delco to Sea Isle, throughout Eagles Nation and beyond, have seen and felt it, as well.

Kelce is more than just genuine. He’s a great dude.

Take it from someone who was a fly on the wall for all 13 of his seasons. Or don’t. But consider the necessary skepticism it takes to be a sports journalist in Philly, admittedly one who occasionally lacks a sense of humor on the job, Kelce’s authenticity is as true as his beard is long.

There are plenty reasons why, from nature to nurture. But Kelce seemed to exist outside his head more than most. It’s increasingly difficult in today’s world.

He mentioned how he felt as Tom Brady’s last-gasp pass in Super Bowl LII hung in the air — “Just looking, no sound registering, completely engulfed in the moment” — and it could have described his perceptions as he surveyed a defense and set protections pre-snap at center. Or how he approached moments far less consequential.

Kelce sensed it all — on the field and off.

Who else would remember his fears before his first “Oklahoma” drill in football as a 12-year-old and poetically recall the moment in the opening of his retirement speech?

“It isn’t even the collision I remember the most,” Kelce said through tears, “but the feeling before of ‘What in the [bleep] is about to happen?’ ”

» READ MORE: Jason Kelce retires an Eagles demigod and a perfect fit for ‘the most passionate sports town in America’

He brought that same thoughtfulness to his relationships in the game and displayed an unparalleled empathy for teammates. Who else would notice former Eagles tight end Zach Ertz’s two-week transformation from Philly goat to hero — after he dodged a block he should have made and came back to break three tackles — and how he’ll be beloved in this city forever?

“As players you write the narratives,” Kelce said. “The fans and media for the most part — it’s occasionally different — only write what you give them. If you go above and beyond in this city, you will be rewarded beyond your wildest dreams.

“I saw firsthand the wrath of Eagles fans in the 2016 season — and rightfully so. I had an awful start to that season.”

Kelce was often accountable. He was quotable nearly the first day that he stood in front of cameras at Lehigh in 2011 following the NFL lockout. He was like an alien: a rookie gifted enough to start from Day 1 and a 24-year-old confident enough to speak for the team.

You knew you would get an honest answer — or at least as close as he could get — because he had a panoramic understanding of the game. Sometimes he had to watch the film to give an answer, but Kelce knew as well as anyone, that with so many given variables on any given play, blame or credit wasn’t so simple.

He wasn’t perfect. He could get prickly or skip availability after difficult losses or tough stretches. He struggled to control a temper into his final season -- as Colts linebacker Zaire Franklin can attest to. But Kelce never big-timed reporters, no matter how small the outlet, or diminished a question, however trite it may have sounded.

What do you got?, he would often say to the longtime beat reporters who lingered at his stall after he’d done about 10 minutes on camera. He knew we were looking for exclusive quotes, and despite the possible repetitiveness, would carefully consider each question.

He didn’t spew clichés. Many of my conversations with Kelce had nothing to do with football and the topics ran the gamut — from our favorite Quentin Tarantino films to a shared love for Guy Clark songs, from existential questions like whether there’s a God to whether a certain draft bust once left a parting present in the media bathroom.

Kelce wasn’t a panderer, but he understood how the media was a conduit to Philly’s passionate fans.

“The sense of urgency in this city to win has pushed our organization, has fueled it to take chances, fix problems, and work tirelessly in an effort to win,” Kelce said. “At times, you hate it as an athlete, especially those new to our city. But when you’ve been through it enough, you learn to appreciate it.

“No one celebrates their own like the city of Philadelphia. Athletes become demigods in this city, even ones whose deeds span decades before.”

As easy as he made it sound, Kelce had natural gifts. He was an athletic freak. Undersized, yes, but he may be the most agile center in the history of the NFL. And he had offensive line coaches in Jeff Stoutland and Howard Mudd and head coaches with schemes that emphasized his strengths.

Kelce did much of the rest on his own. He fought through countless injuries and played in a remarkable 167 consecutive games, including the playoffs. He had a photographic memory for defensive fronts and became a quasi-assistant in his later years.

But he often got by on sheer determination.

“I have been the underdog my entire career and I mean this when I say it: I wish I still was,” Kelce said moments after officially announcing his retirement. “Few things gave me more joy than proving someone wrong. My mother used to tell people and still says to this day, ‘If you want Jason to do something, all you have to do is tell him he can’t.’

“And that was true in more ways than I care to admit.”

What’s next for Kelce? He didn’t say, but he’s already conquered podcasting with New Heights, and will work in the media as an NFL analyst in some form. He’ll probably maintain some role within the Eagles organization, as well.

The most successful people in life don’t always have the greatest character, but in whatever Kelce does, it’s unlikely he’ll sacrifice his integrity on his way back to the top. He never forgot where he came from or who he was.

Who else would have a keg at his pre-Super Bowl party? Current coach Nick Sirianni sent as much to the Kelce house the previous two years to entice him to stay -- “The key to my heart,” he joked. Kelce tipped his hand on X Monday morning when he wrote, “No Keg videos this year.”

Some fans showed up outside the NovaCare -- one with a keg -- and Kelce honked as he drove out of the complex. Earlier, he ended his news conference without taking any questions from reporters.

“That’s all I got,” Kelce said before shaking the hand of every media member and hugging several, as well.

Demigods do not answer questions.