Are You Not Entertained???

Man, who falls asleep in the middle of DEATH VALLEY? 

Me. Only me. 

LSU vs. Bama. You got 100,000 people going crazy, and Little GP was snoozin’. 

I was born different, I swear. My mom, she’ll tell you…. This is a family story, so let’s bring her in….

(Introducing our Special Guest Editor, Mom: Hello, world. Mom will be verifying all facts in this article, by the way. My son has a tendency to…. exaggerate. Anything for a laugh. Don’t worry, I’ll keep him in check.)

Let me set the scene for you. I’m like 9 years old. My family started traveling all over the country, because my brother Chris is 7 years older than me, and he was getting recruited by everybody. He’s one of those super strict DB types. He was born doing pushups in his sleep. GI Joe type of dude. Me, I was the opposite. I was trying to be the class clown until my mom put a stop to it. And I didn’t even do anything that bad. 

(Mom: Very true. George was never a bad kid. George was mischievous.) 

Remember those little pencil holders they had on the front of the desks in elementary school? Like an indentation. I was bored as hell one day and my homie was talking to a girl, and while he was distracted I filled the pencil holder up with some red Kool-Aid. He turned back around to write his ABCs or whatever and the little homie’s pencil was floating. 

It was sloppy work, though, because everybody knew I always brought Kool-Aid for lunch. 

That’s when I heard it. The thing I’ve been hearing all my life.....

“George!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The teacher sent me to the principal's office and they threw the book at me. My mom had me on lockdown. She had me taking out the garbage when it wasn’t even full. She had me taking out that little garbage can in the bathroom. That’s when you know you’re really in trouble. 

(Mom: Oh, he’s still on punishment. I never released him. He’s under observation.)

At the time, I was young and sports wasn't really a priority. That was my brother’s thing. He used to always be trying to get me to come play outside with him, and I was like, “You know they got football inside, right? Why are we going outside? They invented Madden, bro.” 

He’d run to my mom for backup.  

“Tell George he’s gotta come out and play with us.” 

My mom would say, “George, go out and play.”

“Yo, I’m 9!!!! They are 16!!!!”

“George!!!!”

“Yes, m’am.” 

(Mom: George, you need to stay on topic. Respect the people’s time.) 

I swear I’m going to weave all this together. It’s all got a purpose. Just wait for the ending. 

OK, so we’re in Death Valley — 100,000 people going crazy. Never seen anything like it. They got a whole marching band out on the field. They got a real live tiger out there. He’s got a name and everything. 

“Yeah, that’s Mike the Tiger.”

For the first 2 hours, I was into it. But I’m 9, bro. They call a TV timeout, and nothing is really going on, and my eyes start drooping. I start swaying. You know when you’re on a flight and you start dippin’ to one side? 

And this is a day game, mind you. 

But what can I say? I fully passed out.

No lean. Straight posture. Eyes gone. 

(Mom: I remember this older lady noticing George and saying, “Oh my goodness, is that little fella asleep?!” I said, “Oh, don’t worry. He does that.”)

Julio was probably going crazy out there, but I couldn’t even tell you. I’m out. Snoring. Honk shooooo ZZzzzzzzz honk shooooo ZZZZzzzzzz. Cartoon sleep. 

Hahahaha. Born different.

My brother wanted to kill me. I didn’t understand the problem. 

It’s just a football game. Why y’all stressed? 

Football just didn’t click with me yet. Remember, I'm 9! When I was little, they put me at running back. It was cool, but I didn’t really know what I was doing. I was a bigger kid, and I was just kind of playing bully ball. But then my father convinced me to switch to wide receiver because I was getting so tall, and I’ll never forget catching my first deep ball. All I knew how to run was Go routes. I took off, and I looked up, and the rock was coming down ... and I don’t really know how to describe the feeling right before you catch the ball and it’s still hanging up in the air, and you can hear the fans already going…. 

“Oooohhhhhhhhhhhhhh.”

I took it to the house, and all the parents were going crazy on the sideline, and I got this crazy rush. I think I’ve been addicted to that thrill ever since. In my kid-mind, it was just, “Yo, if I do this, it makes people go crazy.” 

To this day, that’s still what I live for.

After I switched to receiver, my brother stopped having to drag me outside to play with him. Man, we used to go out there in the front yard and do 1-on-1 releases for hours. Picture a 17-year-old and a 10-year-old lining it up, running it back. Lining it up, running it back. Catching a water bottle. Maybe a gross, wet Nerf ball that we found. My brother was teaching me the game. 

He would say, “OK, I’m doing inside shade here. I need you to give me a good look. We’re here to work.” 

We were always losing our quarterbacks though. Somebody’s grandma would make them go to church or run errands, and since the quarterback was the one who owned the ball, we’d be stuck playing with no ball. Just imagining somebody throwing it. We didn’t go inside until my brother said so. 

But there was a method to his madness. When I went back out onto the Pee Wee field, those kids were looking like babies to me. What’s funny is, I was still this goofy, chill dude. I literally felt bad for the other kids. 

I’d be like, “Yo, I’m sorry, homie. We’re running a Post here. This ain’t fair for you.”

70 yards. To the House. 

“Hey, somebody call his momma. Get him a Gatorade. He needs to hydrate.” 

(Mom: OK, this is true. If we were running late, the other parents used to literally call me on the phone and say, “Where are you? We can’t start the game until George gets here. We’ll stall the refs.”)

My talent was a blessing from God, but I really didn’t know the nuances of the game until I got to college. My mentality wasn’t there yet. Fast-forward to one of my first practices at Georgia — I run a drag over the middle, and usually you’re bracing for that hit right on your hip. It never came. I’m running free. I’m sprinting down the sideline, not checking my rearview mirror. And all of a sudden — WHAP!!! 

I got de-stroyed. By a DB, too. That’s the humiliating part.

BY A DB!! 

He sends me flying into the guys on the sideline. My helmet is twisted all around. Shoulder pad flopping out. Everybody going “Oooohhhhhh. GP dead, bro.” 

I popped up like it didn’t hurt.

And my wide receivers coach just looks me dead in the eyes and says, “Welcome to the SEC.” 

I stepped out of The Matrix right in that moment. I had this crazy realization, like, “Oh damn, you’re too chill. That’s not going to fly out here. You’re with the killers now.”

I’m looking over at Jalen Carter, Nolan Smith, Nakobe Dean, Quay Walker — dogs. And I’m realizing, “Oh, you need to become a totally different person to survive out here.”

That’s when I invented The Monster. 

It’s like you’re playing a character, right? Like the WWE. When I lace ’em up, I literally become someone else. Off the field, if you met me, you’d be like, “Oh damn, George is actually a chill dude. He’s normal.” 

We’d kick it and play some 2K or something.

But on a football field? On a football field??? 

I’m extra. I’m taking it to the max. That’s what gets me in trouble sometimes. But that’s also what makes me great. 

This is what people don’t understand about receivers, and why I’ve never really told my story before. When you’ve got microphones in your face all the time, you end up having to smooth things over. Everybody knows the answers aren’t always the full truth — it becomes part of the game. That’s the wild part. You find yourself saying things like, “No disrespect, but…”

Bro, football is competition at the highest level. What do you think we’re doing out here — playing patty-cake? You’re lining up across from another man and trying to win every single rep. As a receiver, you almost have to be delusional.

It’s like when I was up in the Meadowlands a few weeks ago going up against one of the top corners in the league. 

(Mom: George, watch yourself!!)

He’s elite — everybody knows that. But that night, I was just a little better. 

No disrespect. You see what I’m saying?

This game is 99% mental. My job is to line up across from a DB and take the light out of his eyes. The eyes tell you everything. You can turn off all the TV shows and ignore all the pundits — the real story is in the energy.

At some point, the other team gets a certain look in their eyes…

That’s when you’ve won.

I’ll never forget when we won the Natty at Georgia, there was this mystique around Bama at the time. Even in our locker room, with some guys, it was like, “It’s Bama.”

My mentality was: Bama is good. We better.

First quarter, I get my number called. Deep post. Mind you, I’m coming off an ACL. “George don’t love the game! He’s not serious!” Bro, I came back from an ACL in 8 months. Google it. WebMD that sh*t. It’s 10 months minimum if you’re a mortal. But I’m not a mortal. So I was hopping around on one leg after waking up from the surgery, high as hell on whatever they gave me, doing one-leg squats in the recovery room. I’m back in 8 months and playing in the Natty. Eight!! But George don’t love the game……

Anyway! We line up. DB is looking at me, ice cold. Reminding me of my brother. He thinks he the best. I think I’m the best. Thankfully, we don’t have to speculate. We got receipts. 

Hut hut hut.

I shake him like we're out in the yard. Bow, I’m flying. 

I’m about to catch this sh*t like a nerf ball, bro. 

That’s the moment I live for. Before you look up for the ball, but after you beat your man. Chasing that thrill. 

I’ll never forget, I looked up, and we were playing in Indy, and those dome lights hit me. It was like in a movie, when the sun hits the camera and it’s all flickering. In a split second, I saw the shadow of the ball. That’s why I dove so crazy. I was late on it, because I was blinded by the lights. At that point, it’s just instinct. That’s what people don’t understand. The DBs, the linebackers, the coaches, they’re the ones that gotta be overthinking. As a receiver, you gotta be flowing. 

When I came down with the ball, the craziest part is that I rolled and the DB’s cleat caught my glove and tore it clean off MID-CATCH. If you watch the video, my glove goes flying, but I still hold onto the ball. I don’t even know how that’s possible. They need to do a physics experiment on that catch. Call up NASA.

ONLY ME. It can only happen to GP, I swear. 

After that bomb, I knew we had them. You could see the light go out of their eyes. 

We rolled the tide, 33-18. Just a kid from Birmingham, Alabama. National champion. Came up catching crumpled up Poland Spring bottles. It meant the world, just to show kids from my neck of the woods who you can be. 

(Mom: The craziest part is that my father was the biggest Bama fan in the world. He literally had a shrine to Bear Bryant in his living room. But when George was deciding on schools, he said, “Mom, I think I can do something special at Georgia. It’s just a feeling.” Boy was he right.) 

When I was going into the draft, I had no idea that I was going to be a Steeler. I was supposed to go in the first round, but I kept sliding. I had never spoken to them in the whole lead-up to the draft. Everything started off so good, too. I had the one-handed catch in my third game, and y’all know the numbers. Second year, 1,100 yards. I don’t gotta bore you. But I was still a kid. I made some mistakes. I’ll own that. I let my emotions get the best of me a few times, because I’m always riding that line. That’s just who I am. I’ve tried to learn from it and grow while still being ME. 

Now the media in Pittsburgh? I admit ….I was trolling y’all a little bit. I apologize! But I don’t have a bad word to say about Pittsburgh. I can call up Coach T right now and we’d have a real conversation. What I respect about him most is he always told me, “Just keep being you, George.” It just wasn’t the long-term fit for where my journey was headed, and that’s OK.

They did right by me. They sent me to the perfect spot in Dallas. What more do you want me to say? There’s no drama, bro. No headlines to write. They’re doing things their way up there, and I’m down here in Dallas with CeeDee and Dak doing what I do best. Everybody wins.

I swear, there’s a higher power guiding all of this. I was meant to get this fresh start in Dallas. It felt like coming home — in a real way. And it’s funny, because it ties all the way back to where I started.

My mom has this picture of me from when I was a kid, and I think it might be her favorite. I had just finished a Pee-Wee football game, and I’m knocked out in the backseat of her car. Full pads, helmet still on… completely gone. I didn’t even have the strength to take it off. I left everything on the field.

(Mom: No, even that doesn’t do it justice. Sometimes we’d come home and he’d be fully under the covers, knocked out cold, still strapped into his helmet. I’d have to sneak in and slide that sweaty thing off his head without waking him up. He was just a little peanut — the helmet was almost bigger than him. But that’s my son in one picture. He loved the game then, and he still loves it now with that same kid heart.)

And guess what team I was playing for back then, by the way? You already know.

All this was written. 

The Eastlake Cowboys. I was born for Showtime, bro. 

When I got here this summer, I didn’t really know how people were going to react. There was so much narrative floating around about me in the media, and honestly, I was just trying to mind my Ps and Qs. I wasn’t doing too much those first few days. I was keeping my head down, watching everything, feeling out the room before I let my personality show. I was doing my part, staying focused, and trying to understand the vibe of the place.

“Just here to help the team. Yes, sir. No sir.”

But then I started cracking a few jokes, getting comfortable, and I saw the energy in the room change. 

Then that’s when I first started hearing it. 

“Yo, George ….. I thought you mighta been crazy.”

I’m like, “What do you mean?” 

They’re like, “No, I mean …. you’re actually chill, bro. I had no idea.” 

I said, “I’ve been trying to tell the world, bro! They don’t believe me! I’m chill! I’m CHILL!!!!!!”  

Hahahaha. 

Print that. George Pickens Is Actually a Chill Dude. 

(Mom: That’s a fact. My son is one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet off the field — let the record show that. But on the field, he taps into something different. George created a whole persona out there, a version of himself that lets him lock in and dominate. It’s like the moment that helmet goes on, he steps into another gear.)

I’ve said my piece now. Maybe now y’all know me a little bit better as a person. Maybe you rock with me, maybe you don’t. 

Words don’t mean a thing in this game anyway. It’s about receipts, and y’all see the receipts. We got an electrifying team. Dak is showing the world exactly who he is. We got the place shaking again. We still got a lot of work to do, but you can’t deny the energy. 

I’m gonna keep showing the world. 

Hey, I’m just being me!! 

Are you not entertained???

If you get it, you get it. 

If you don’t get it …. you’re probably a nickelback, bro. 

Sincerely, 

GP and Momma

(Rest in peace, 94 ♥️)