Tampa Bay Buccaneers quarterback Teddy Bridgewater on Wednesday defended his decision to give financial benefits to his high school players.
Bridgewater spent 2024 as head coach of his alma mater, Miami Northwestern Senior High School. He was suspended from coaching in July due to providing meals, Uber rides, and recovery therapy treatments to players—benefits he paid for out of his own pocket.
“I think everyone knows that I’m just a cheerful guy, a cheerful giver as well, and I’m a protector,” Bridgewater said. “I’m a father first before anything. And when I decided to coach, those players became my sons, and I wanted to make sure that I just protect them in the best way that I can. And I think that’s what came about.
“Miami Northwestern’s in a tough neighborhood, and sometimes things can happen when kids are walking home and different things like that,” he continued. ”So, I just tried to protect them, give them, a ride home instead of them having to take those dangerous walks. But I just want people to continue to see me for the person that I’ve been from the time I arrived at NFL ... just a humble guy who has a big heart, and a cheerful giver.”
He spent $9,500 on “pride sets” for the team; $300 per week to paint the lines on the field; $1,300 per week to provide the team with recovery trucks on the day before games; $2,200 per week on the team’s pregame meal; $1,500 per week on catered breakfasts after morning practices; and $700 on Uber fares for players.
Bridgewater said the suspension was difficult because of the relationships he built with his players.
“It’s a great group of kids, man,” he said. “They see so much hope when they look at me. And I always said it’s food for my soul. It’s the way that I feed my soul, and it allows me to stay young, being around those kids.”
Bridgewater said he empathizes with the players, having once been in their shoes himself.
“I know what it’s like to walk those halls at Miami Northwestern and to have your stomach growling and rumbling at 12:00 in the afternoon because you didn’t have any lunch money or you don’t get the free lunch,” he said.
“I can’t change who I am. I‘ll still give to those kids just because, I know what it’s like. ... It’s not even about money, it’s about my time and my presence. Because a lot of times you see your idol on TV and it’s like, ’Man, I wonder what it’s like to be that person.' But when they see me in the flesh and they see how, you know, I’m an open-spirited person and I’m happy, and I’m around them and they fit right in with me, and I fit in with them, and it’s just hope.”
“[I call] myself the neighborhood hope dealer,” he added. “And I’m hoping that I’m dealing hope to everyone back in South Florida and across the state of Florida.”







