Davante Adams, former Packers star and current Jets receiver, declared he would “never” play for the Chicago Bears during a December 2024 interview. His emphatic rejection stems from deep-rooted Packers loyalty, years of dominance over Chicago (81 catches, 1,024 yards, 10 TDs), and the NFL’s oldest rivalry culture, which has shaped his identity.
When Kay Adams asked New York Jets wide receiver Davante Adams if he’d ever consider playing for the Chicago Bears, she probably expected the usual diplomatic non-answer most NFL players give. Instead, Adams delivered one of the most definitive rejections in recent sports history: “No. Never.”
He didn’t stop there. “Look, I’m not playing too much longer as it is, so on my last days in this league, after all I’ve been blessed with, I will not be going to Chicago. I respect everyone I play, but I’m not playing for the Bears, no.”
This wasn’t a casual preference. It was a declaration—one that immediately reignited conversations about loyalty, rivalry culture, and what it means to be a Packer, even years after leaving Green Bay.
The December 17, 2024, interview on FanDuel TV’s “Up & Adams” show gave Adams a platform to discuss his career, his thoughts on the playoff-contending Packers, and his uncertain future with the struggling Jets. But it was his unfiltered stance on Chicago that grabbed headlines.
Adams, now 31 and contemplating his final seasons, made it crystal clear that wearing a Bears uniform would fundamentally conflict with his identity. In an era where players routinely switch teams for better contracts or championship opportunities, his stance feels almost old-school—a throwback to when rivalries meant something visceral.
Social media erupted immediately. Packers fans celebrated his continued loyalty. Bears supporters expressed frustration, though many acknowledged they wouldn’t want him anyway after such disrespect. NFL analysts dissected whether such strong feelings were appropriate or if Adams was being honest about emotions most players hide.
What made the statement particularly striking wasn’t just the “never”—it was the context. Adams isn’t a current Packer. He’s with the Jets, reunited with former Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers. He doesn’t need to play up the rivalry for marketing purposes. This was pure, unfiltered truth from someone whose football identity was forged in Green Bay.
Numbers tell part of the story. During his time with the Packers from 2014 through 2021, Adams absolutely tormented the Bears’ secondary. Across 16 games, he accumulated 81 receptions for 1,024 receiving yards and 10 touchdowns. These aren’t just solid numbers—they represent consistent dominance against a division rival.
More telling than the stats was Adams’ mindset going into those games. When reflecting on facing Chicago, he revealed that Packers players didn’t worry about whether they’d win—they focused on how dominant they could be, thinking about setting records or scoring multiple times.
“Can I set a record? Can I score twice?” That’s what Adams said the Packers were thinking before Bears games. The mentality was to steamroll Chicago and have the best game of the year.
The Packers went 14-2 against the Bears during Adams’ tenure in Green Bay. That level of one-sided dominance creates psychological patterns that don’t disappear just because a player changes uniforms. When you’ve experienced that much success against a team—when facing them felt more like a guaranteed victory lap than a competitive matchup—it shapes how you view that organization permanently.
Adams had four games with over 100 receiving yards against the Bears. His 13 receptions in a 2016 matchup tied for the second-most in his career. These weren’t fluky performances or lucky breaks. This was systematic dominance, game after game, year after year.
To understand why Adams would rule out Chicago so definitively, you need to understand the Packers-Bears rivalry—the oldest in the NFL and one of the most intense in professional sports.
The rivalry began in 1921 when the Packers joined what was then called the American Professional Football Association. Since then, these teams have met 210 times, with only two seasons (1922 and 1982) without a matchup. The Packers currently hold a 108-96-6 advantage in the all-time series.
For decades, the Bears dominated. They once led the series by as many as 24 games. But the tide turned dramatically, especially in recent years. The Bears are just 2-17 against the Packers over the last decade. Chicago’s current losing streak stands at 10 games—tied for the longest in this rivalry’s history.
The rivalry transcends wins and losses. It’s about identity, tradition, and regional pride. Players absorb this culture quickly. As Adams put it, becoming a Packer naturally means developing a competitive disdain for the Bears. It’s not personal—it’s tribal.
Adams acknowledged the Packers are a winning organization, while the Bears have been on the other side of that for so long. This organizational disparity makes the rivalry even more lopsided psychologically. One franchise represents sustained excellence; the other represents unfulfilled potential and organizational dysfunction.
Recent history has been particularly brutal for Chicago. Current Packers head coach Matt LaFleur is 10-0 against the Bears, a perfect record that speaks to both Green Bay’s superiority and Chicago’s struggles to compete even in games they should win.
Adams’ stance offers a window into how NFL players form their professional identities. In today’s league, where free agency and trades shuffle rosters constantly, genuine loyalty has become rare. Players often view themselves as independent contractors, maximizing value wherever opportunity arises.
Yet some allegiances run deeper. When a player spends their formative professional years with one organization—especially during success—that identity can become permanent. Adams wasn’t just employed by the Packers; he became a Packer in the cultural sense. That distinction matters.
Adams built most of his Hall of Fame-worthy career in Green Bay, earning three All-Pro selections while establishing himself as one of the league’s elite receivers. Those years weren’t just about statistics; they were about absorbing a winning culture, experiencing playoff runs, and developing an identity within one of football’s most storied franchises.
The contrast between organizations makes his stance even more understandable. Green Bay has made the playoffs 12 times in the last 16 seasons. They’ve had three consecutive franchise quarterbacks—Brett Favre, Aaron Rodgers, and now Jordan Love—representing perhaps the most impressive quarterback succession in NFL history. Meanwhile, the Bears haven’t had a winning season since 2018 and have cycled through countless quarterback prospects without finding sustained success.
For Adams, playing for the Bears wouldn’t just be joining another team—it would represent a fundamental betrayal of the culture and success he experienced. When you’ve been part of something excellent, settling for organizational dysfunction becomes unthinkable, regardless of the paycheck.
Adams’ future remains uncertain, which makes the Bears’ rejection even more significant. He’s not speaking from a position of security with a championship-contending team. The Jets finished 4-10 after trading for Adams mid-season, their playoff hopes eliminated despite reuniting him with Rodgers.
His contract reportedly gives him leverage if he wants out, though specifics about his 2025 situation vary by source. What’s clear is that Adams recognizes his career is winding down. He’s 31, which for receivers often marks the beginning of decline, especially after years of elite production.
Potential landing spots for 2025 might include contending teams needing veteran receiver help—think Kansas City, San Francisco, or even a return to Las Vegas if the Raiders rebuild quickly. The Jets could theoretically keep him if Rodgers returns, though that seems increasingly unlikely given their dysfunction.
Retirement is also a genuine possibility. Adams has been transparent about not having many years left. If the right situation doesn’t materialize—one that offers both competitive viability and cultural fit—he might simply walk away on his own terms.
What won’t happen, according to his own emphatic declaration, is a move to Chicago. Even if the Bears offered the most money or the best situational opportunity, Adams has drawn a line he won’t cross. In an NFL increasingly driven by financial maximization, that’s almost refreshingly principled.
Adams’ rejection highlights a broader problem Chicago faces: elite players don’t view the Bears as a destination franchise. This isn’t just about one receiver’s opinion—it’s symptomatic of organizational issues that have festered for years.
The Bears have cycled through head coaches, offensive coordinators, and quarterback prospects at an alarming rate. Stability breeds success; chaos breeds losing. Players notice. When free agency arrives, top talent gravitates toward winning cultures, not rebuilding projects with uncertain futures.
Chicago’s hope lies with rookie quarterback Caleb Williams, the number one overall pick in 2024, whose talent could potentially transform the franchise. If Williams develops into a franchise quarterback, the perception problem begins to solve itself. Elite players want to play with elite quarterbacks. Championships attract talent.
But that’s a long-term solution to an immediate perception crisis. Right now, players like Adams—who’ve experienced sustained winning elsewhere—view Chicago as the antithesis of what they want. Until the Bears demonstrate consistent competitiveness, not just occasional flashes, they’ll continue struggling to attract top-tier free agents.
Adams’s comments aren’t meant to be cruel. He emphasized respecting everyone he plays against. But respect and desire are different things. You can respect an opponent while simultaneously wanting nothing to do with their organization.
For Bears fans, this stings because it’s honest. Adams isn’t hiding behind platitudes. He’s confirming what many already suspected: elite players see Chicago as a place to avoid, not pursue. That’s the harsh truth organizational change must address.
When Davante Adams says he will never play for the Bears, it’s about more than one player’s career choice. It’s about identity, loyalty, and what rivalries mean in modern professional sports. In an era of player empowerment and constant team-switching, Adams’ stance feels almost anachronistic—a throwback to when rivalries carried genuine emotional weight.
His statement won’t change anything on the field. The Bears and Packers will continue their century-old competition regardless of where Adams plays. But it adds another chapter to the rivalry’s story, another data point proving this isn’t just about wins and losses—it’s about culture, tradition, and the emotional connections players develop with organizations.
For Adams, being a Packer meant something profound during those seven years in Green Bay. It meant excellence, consistency, and winning. Playing for their rival would diminish that legacy, even symbolically. So he drew a line: Never.
In a league where “never” usually means “until the price is right,” Adams’ declaration stands out. It’s honest, it’s loyal, and it perfectly captures what makes NFL rivalries compelling even in sports’ increasingly transactional modern era.
The Bears won’t sign Davante Adams. That much is certain. Whether they can transform their organization into one that elite players actually want to join—that’s the question Chicago must answer in the years ahead.
