Nick Mangold’s final public plea for a kidney — then his sudden passing just days later at age 41
I’m still trying to wrap my head around the news that Nick Mangold has passed away at just 41 years old. The longtime center for the New York Jets, a player known for his toughness, consistency, and kind character, lost his fight against complications from chronic kidney disease on October 25, 2025. What hits hard is how quickly his health story changed — just ten days earlier he had gone public with a plea for a kidney donor, revealing he was undergoing dialysis and had a genetic condition diagnosed all the way back in 2006. There he was, the steady rock of a Jets offensive line, now facing vulnerable realities off the field. He wrote to his Jets community: “In 2006, I was diagnosed with a genetic defect that has led to chronic kidney disease. After a rough summer I’m undergoing dialysis as we look for a kidney transplant. I always knew this day would come, but I thought I would have had more time.”
The trajectory of Mangold’s life and career makes this loss even more difficult to accept. Drafted 29th overall in 2006 out of Ohio State Buckeyes, he went on to spend his entire NFL career with the Jets, earning seven Pro Bowl selections and becoming one of the franchise’s most beloved players. His teammates remember him not only for his play but for his quiet leadership — the guy snapping the football every play, anchoring the line, and making things happen without the spotlight. One coach said of him: “He was the heartbeat of our offensive line.”
Off the field, he remained grounded. He married his high-school sweetheart, Jenny, and together they raised four children. He remained connected to the community, gave back, and never forgot where he came from. So when he reached out to fans and appealed for a donor, it wasn’t just a story — it became real. It was one man’s genuine hope for more time with his family. Unfortunately, that time was cut short.
It’s painful to think that someone who had built his identity around strength and durability faced such a vulnerable moment. We often see heroes as untouchable, but Mangold reminded us they are human. He said he always knew the day would come, but believed it would be later. Now, we’re left with memories: the helmet, the number 74, the backward cap and the beard — all part of his iconic presence on the field. But I’ll remember also the letter, the appeal, the family, and the unfulfilled time he wanted to share.
As news poured in, tributes came from every corner of the football world — teammates, coaches, and fans — all mourning the loss of not just a player, but a good man. They emphasized his humor, his humility, his loyalty. The accolades will remain: Ring of Honor induction, playoff appearances, All-Pro nods. But tonight, what stands out is the man behind the stats, the father, the husband, the friend, and the friend to fans who wanted to help.
If you’re reading this and you’re healthy, take a moment. Reach out. Say thank you. Do the check-ups. Love the people you have. Because we don’t always get the time we think we will. And when someone like Nick Mangold’s journey reminds us of that, it stings. Yet there’s grace in that stinging — a reminder of fragility mixed with strength, of loving something big and losing it, and of holding close the times that matter.
Rest in peace, Nick. You will always be a Jet.
