A.J. Brown wasn’t supposed to be.
His parents had decided, after two daughters, that they were done having kids.
But there was nothing stopping A.J. Not then. Not since.
“I apologized to God after finding out about the pregnancy,” said Josette Robertson, Brown’s mother. “We said we were through. Two girls was gonna be it. But we joke now and I tell him his daddy, that he prayed for him, that he was praying against me so he could have somebody to carry on his name.”
A.J. is named after his father, Arthur Brown, but the J isn’t for Junior. It’s for Jauan (pronounced ju-wan). There’s a story there, too. On the Eagles star wide receiver’s birth certificate, his middle name is incorrectly spelled Juan, according to his mother, which has led to an obvious mispronunciation over the years.
Even Brown, when the local papers first wrote about his football exploits at Starkville High, made the error.
“I read an article and they asked, ‘A.J., what does the ‘J’ stand for? Arthur Jr. or what?’ ” Robertson said recently. “And he said, ‘Hwan.’ And they said, ‘Hwan? Well, it don’t matter as long as you hwan games.’”
And games he won, including his last as a senior for the Yellowjackets — a Class 6A state title. But for his family and those who know him best in this working class college town — the most populous in the “Golden Triangle” east central region of Mississippi — he’s just Jay.
If Brown was initially a shock to his mother, there wasn’t much he did after — especially in sports — that surprised her. He was often ahead of the curve. He walked at nine months and as soon as he could stand still — a chore for the rambunctious toddler — he was swinging a baseball bat.
The bat and other gadgets were placed in his hands by his father. Arthur Brown invested significantly in his daughters’ sporting pursuits. For the eldest, Reva, it was basketball, and for middle child Shareda, it was softball. But when his only son was born, his sport would be the one the elder Brown thrived at most when he was younger: baseball.
Brown was so advanced early on that he played several age groups up in travel ball, and sometimes — when barnstorming teams came to town — with young men double his age. But his father didn’t make a big deal about his accomplishments.
Even when the younger Brown committed to also playing football in high school, and had breakout games that drew Alabama’s Nick Saban to Mississippi State’s backyard, his father kept his praise to no more than maybe a “You did a little something.”
Brown didn’t need much motivation, as those who goaded him into playing football by simply calling him “a chicken” later found out. But his father wanted to keep him humble and hungry. It worked, as the now 26-year-old Brown said he can see how seeking Dad’s approval drove him.
“Oh, for sure, for sure. Because there were times when if I didn’t play good, I knew the car ride was going to be long because he was going to tell me how it is,” Brown said earlier this summer. “He could always tell if something’s going on with me, if I was aggravated or whatever on the field.
“He was always watching.”
He’s still watching, of course, as is the rest of Brown’s family. But with A.J. now with the Eagles and farther away than when he was with the Tennessee Titans, there aren’t as many opportunities to break through when he does revert into his shell. Brown may occasionally be outwardly brash on the field, but those who know him best describe him as subdued and sometimes introverted.
Brown’s parents and sisters, in separate interviews, all confirmed that he can be a tough read and slow to trust outsiders. His first season with the Eagles was near-perfect, but when he got visibly upset late in the playoff win over the New York Giants, many in Philly assumed it was because he didn’t have many catches.
“Some guy was like, ‘He’s pouting. He’s pouting,’” Reva said. “It wasn’t even about that. He was dealing with a physical issue. That’s why I always say with Jay, ‘When you think you know, you don’t.’”
Brown has mostly preferred to keep his private life private. It took a year of prodding after the Eagles acquired him in a blockbuster trade before he allowed The Inquirer to follow him to his home state. He wanted to first prove he was worth the draft picks and the $100 million contract, he said, before he agreed to a profile that would require access to his family.
And prove it he did, putting up numbers — 88 catches for 1,496 yards and 11 touchdowns — that were the best for an Eagles receiver since Terrell Owens in 2004. But he isn’t nearly finished, and just last week said he hasn’t yet reached his prime.
That could strike additional fear in opposing defenses this coming season with quarterback Jalen Hurts and fellow receiver DeVonta Smith seemingly also not near their peak.
But there’s more to Brown than his prodigious talents, and more than he is often willing to reveal — even to those closest to him. He’s getting better at opening up, though.
“He would always be, ‘I’m good.’ Everything was ‘I’m good,’” Robertson said. “So I told him, ‘I know what you’re doing. I know you’re speaking about it in a spiritual realm.’ … He’s very, very spiritual. I get that. But, also, God wants us to be honest. That’s why He gave us emotions.
“So when you are emotionally going through something, even though you know that it’s going to get better, it’s OK to say, ‘I ain’t good right now.’ ”
Two years ago, Brown divulged he had battled depression and had suicidal thoughts the year earlier and that he came out on the other side. It wasn’t the first time in his life that he had persevered.
His parents’ divorce when he was around 13, Brown said, was a pivotal moment.
“I was lashing out,” Brown said. “I was just bad. I went through a period in school; I was just bad for no reason. And I knew it. I just wanted attention. But I found out there are people I could trust who cared about me like any kid.”
He admitted the divorce still makes him cautious around newcomers. But the foundation his parents had built and the Starkville community that helped foster the growth of a native son — however improbable his very existence and subsequent success may have once seemed — were instrumental in how the All-Pro receiver came to be.
Old-fashioned way
Brown’s story starts in Chicago, though. His father was born there and up north they called him “June Bug.” When he moved to Starkville as a young boy to live with his aunt and uncle, though, he became just “Bug.”
Robertson, A.J.’s mother, was also born in Illinois and relocated to Starkville, but she didn’t meet her future husband until they were teenagers.
“I used to play softball in the park and she lived across the street on West side,” Bug said. “So I used to mess with her going to the park. I’d say, ‘You’re going to be my wife.’ … And that’s how we ended up talking.”
Arthur Brown went to Alexander, a small Oktibbeha County high school that had been integrated in 1970 but remained predominantly Black. He played receiver in football, and once was on the same field as Jerry Rice, who grew up in nearby Crawford and attended rival Moor High. But Arthur excelled at baseball.
Robertson went to Starkville High. She didn’t compete in sports, but her brothers did, one of whom played minor league baseball.
“The family is athletic on both sides,” Robertson said. “I think Jay got most of his height from my [6-foot-7 and 6-9] brothers. His daddy is probably the tallest on his side of the family.”
It took a while before A.J. reached his current height of 6-1. He was a small, lean kid. But he was walking two weeks after his mother defied an old superstition about cutting a baby’s hair before he was 1, and swinging a bat not much later while obsessively watching the baseball movie, The Fan.
When he was 4, A.J. smashed the family aquarium with his bat. His sisters, who still aren’t sure if it was accidental, were so traumatized they sat in the living room until their parents came home while the fish lay on the floor and died.
The Browns were strict, both Reva and Shareda emphasized. That meant daily chores, early curfews and no phone calls after a certain time at night. The girls, eight and four years older than A.J., said their brother had it easy in comparison.
“Boys are different from girls,” Bug said. “I had to learn that because I used to holler at him, next two or three seconds, he’s back doing it again. When I hollered at my girls, they shut down. They may not talk in a week or two weeks.
“But it was just the way I was brought up — the old-fashioned way. Do what you told him and you got no problem.”
The Browns split child care. Bug worked for the city electrical department and had the nights, while Josette worked in food services and covered the days. Mom had a softer touch, apparently.
“She’s the teddy bear,” Shareda said.
That doesn’t mean she couldn’t dole out the discipline. When Shareda and A.J. were around 6 and 10 and acting out, Mom sent them to their bedrooms to write out the dictionary. The siblings’ rooms were directly across from each other and it didn’t take long before Shareda offered an alternative.
“I’m like, ‘Hey, let’s run away.’ And A.J.’s like, ‘OK, let’s do it,’” Shareda said. “So I look up and I’m like, ’Where’s A.J.?’ A.J. literally ran outside and halfway down the driveway. And I’m like, ‘We’re not running away for real.’ He was like, ‘I thought we [got] through!’”
There were rewards for good behavior and hard work. When you were old enough, you got a car, but mostly for practical purposes. With both parents working, it made getting around easier. The kids weren’t required to have jobs with school and sports as their primary responsibilities.
The Brown home was set up to support their athletic endeavors. The hoop and court Bug had installed in the backyard for Reva is still there, as is a faded makeshift infield just beyond where Shareda and A.J. practiced.
