NFL players facing the coldest games of the year deploy a comprehensive arsenal of strategies to combat freezing temperatures, blending physical readiness with psychological resilience. As the Chicago Bears and Los Angeles Rams prepare for a frigid NFC divisional round clash this Sunday, with forecasts predicting 16 degrees and a wind chill of 4, the spotlight turns to how athletes adapt to such harsh conditions, drawing lessons from historic battles like the 2008 NFC Championship where the Giants overcame minus-23 wind chills in Green Bay.
Physical preparation is paramount, with players like Rams quarterback Matthew Stafford adopting scuba suits—a tactic pioneered by Tom Brady—to insulate against the cold without restricting movement. Other essentials include layered clothing, hand and foot warmers, and heated benches on the sideline. For instance, former Chiefs lineman Nick Allegretti combines a scuba suit with thermal layers and double socks, while some, like 49ers receiver Kendrick Bourne, prefer minimal layers to avoid overheating once adrenaline kicks in. However, not all gear is foolproof; Marcus Mariota found his scuba suit restrictive, and his helmet visor froze solid from his breath during a 2017 playoff game in Kansas City.
Mental fortitude plays an equally critical role, as players seek psychological edges in the frost. Edge rusher Von Miller engages in self-convincing mind games, pretending opponents are more affected by the cold, while Seahawks linebacker Bobby Wagner looks for telltale signs like opponents adding sleeves mid-game. This mental warfare is rooted in the belief that cold weather disproportionately impacts teams from warm climates; ESPN research notes such teams are 3-12 in the past decade when temperatures dip below freezing, a stat underscored by the Dolphins’ 2024 wild-card loss in Kansas City where conditions were deemed “borderline inhumane.”
The cold introduces unique hazards, from frostbite—experienced by players like Kam Chancellor—to practical nightmares like jammed fingers that “shatter” more easily or equipment failures. In that same Chiefs-Dolphins game, Patrick Mahomes had his helmet shell crack from the cold, and a replacement sat frozen on the sideline. Even simple acts become arduous; Von Miller recalls water bottles freezing on beards, and Giants coach Tom Coughlin’s face turned dangerously red during the 2008 title game, prompting fears of permanent skin damage.
Halftime offers a brief respite, with players warming up with chicken broth or hot chocolate—mini marshmallows included, as Allegretti insists. Yet, this break is often too short, leaving athletes reluctant to return to the chill. The pregame and early moments are particularly grueling, as noted by Bears safety Kevin Byard III, who times TV timeouts to hover by heaters before darting back to the field.
Historical anecdotes highlight the extreme nature of these contests. In the 2016 NFC wild-card game in Minnesota, Bobby Wagner witnessed a sneeze freezing mid-air, while the 1985 “Snow Bowl” saw the Buccaneers unprepared for 14 inches of snow in Green Bay. These stories emphasize that preparation is key; the Giants’ Jeff Feagles, who once avoided punting in warmups due to numb hands, credits his team’s adaptability for their overtime win in 2008, fueled by a game-winning field goal.
Ultimately, success in the cold hinges on a blend of innovation, experience, and sheer will. As players navigate frozen turfs and biting winds, the consensus is clear: winning provides the ultimate warmth. For those on the losing side, like Bourne after a 2021 playoff loss, the cold feels even more piercing, underscoring how mental and physical preparedness can define seasons in the NFL’s frostiest arenas.
