How Fernando Mendoza Went From No-Name Prospect to No. 1 in the Draft

The Heisman Trophy winner had a storybook rise, following Tom Brady’s methods long before it became clear they would join forces with the Raiders.

When you look at his résumé, Fernando Mendoza doesn’t seem all that different from any other high-achieving twentysomething ready to make their mark on the world. In high school he was an elite student (4.86 GPA), class VP, campus ministry president, the honors program’s social media director and founder of a nonprofit that spreads awareness for youth in need. 

He interviewed Miami’s mayor on a podcast he hosted and organized humanitarian efforts in Cuba. He could have gone to Yale, but instead earned a degree from Cal’s business school in three years and then got to work on an MBA. A few months ago he declared himself “open to work” on his LinkedIn profile.

Of course, there is nothing typical about Fernando Mendoza. Unlike everyone else who took 12 AP courses in high school, he’s a former two-star recruit who somehow turned himself into a Heisman Trophy winner. That LinkedIn status change? It was his tongue-in-cheek announcement that he was entering this year’s NFL draft, where he is all but assured of being the top pick. Mendoza defies simple categorizations and easy comparisons. His intelligence, curiosity and academic achievements make him an ideal candidate for almost any profession. But those assets can be complicated in his chosen craft. Modern NFL evaluators analyze quarterbacks in ways and with methodology far different from their predecessors, yet they can still cling to stubborn, outdated stereotypes. Only in this specific evaluation cauldron can broad interests and a strong mind be seen as a potential cloud over potential.

Mendoza didn’t set out to become a riddle atop a magical wave. It just happened. Not, to be clear, by accident. But beyond even Mendoza’s wildest expectations. He became the probable No. 1 pick because he is refined in ways most of his peers cannot yet fathom. But his on-field skill set is perhaps the least refined part of him. That’s both his appeal and the source of lingering doubts.

Fernando Mendoza graces the cover of SI’s May issue. | Kohjiro Kinno/Sports Illustrated

Another thing that sets Mendoza apart from the typical draft pick: the air of wisdom that he carries. Listen to his interviews. Watch his video clips. Notice what this prospect reveals about himself.

Mendoza talks and thinks like a Stoic, with a worldview seemingly rooted in an ancient Greek and Roman philosophy that dates back to around 300 B.C. He follows Ryan Holiday, a modern-day stoicism influencer, on Instagram, devouring the acclaimed author’s books and listening to Holiday’s podcasts while driving or in the shower. He’s digging into the writings of Marcus Aurelius, the Stoic Roman emperor who you might think of as the Ryan Holiday of the second century. Mendoza talks about the importance of discipline … delayed gratification … controlling only what he can directly impact … processes over outcomes … avoiding the hazards of complacency. As our mid-March interview shifts into these ancient weeds, he says, “Great reminder. Just finished reading [another] book. It’s time to hop back into that [stoic] mindset again.” His voice begins to trail off, but not before he adds, quietly, “Especially with so much chaos going on.”

It’s almost possible to see Mendoza’s mind churn, one thought colliding with dozens of others, always a brief pause before he answers. “Stoicism is a great belief and study of humans, of what really matters,” he says. “If you are wise and have your pillars, you have a clear aiming point. Quarterback is cerebral. And I’m always ready to learn, ready to … increase my neuroplasticity on stoicism.”

How’s that for a new Mendoza Line? Hence the riddle. Many NFL evaluators see this past season’s fairy tale at Indiana—the national championship in his first year after transferring from Cal, the Heisman, the transformation from unknown to surefire No. 1—and wonder if Mendoza can sustain a story that appears, on the surface, more like a scripted movie than real life.

Hence his first task, the one that will define everything post-fairy tale: To show that the truly improbable part of his career is … next.

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Fernando Mendoza spent one season in Indiana and came away with a national championship. | Simon Bruty/Sports Illustrated

In early 2022, when he was a senior at Miami’s Christopher Columbus High, Mendoza ranked between 134th and 140th on the lists that mattered most. Not as an overall college football prospect. That was his ranking among high school quarterbacks, all vying to start at one of 138 FBS programs.

Without a single Power 4 scholarship offer—even the nearest local nonpowerhouse, Florida International, rejected him—Mendoza committed to Yale. He changed the plan when Cal made him a late offer, injecting hope that only Mendoza himself could feel. He spent his redshirt freshman season wearing baseball caps and flashing decoy signals. His NFL draft status didn’t yet exist, so he sought internships with real estate investment firms near campus.

 That may be where the parallels to another unlikely quarterback transformation begin. Like Tom Brady’s college stint working for Merrill Lynch, Mendoza’s internship backup plan seemed like a step toward his most logical, most likely future. Until last fall, at least, when Mendoza entered the pantheon over which Brady presides: sports history’s most dominant underdogs. TB12 echoes reverberate throughout Mendoza’s story. 

Like Brady, Mendoza believed in himself and his football ambitions when things like reason and statistics—he went 10–10 at Cal and finished the 2024 season ranked 36th in the country in passer rating—signaled delusion. Like Brady, Mendoza comes from a close family, steered by his parents, Fernando Sr. and Elsa. Like Brady, Mendoza leaned into faith and principles. Elsa often told Junior he wasn’t what he was labeled, with those two measly stars. He asked if she considered him three-star. Elsa shook her head. Same for four. And five. “You’re Fernando Mendoza,” she told him.

Inadvertently, Brady even helped. An image Mendoza used to have on his Instagram page showcases the one player he most idolized. There’s young Fernando, wearing Brady’s Michigan jersey and a Wolverines helmet, even displaying an oddly similar tall and lean build. Mendoza saw some of himself in Brady. “The perfect guy to look up to,” Mendoza says now. “Cerebral. He wasn’t the fastest, wasn’t the strongest; just super, super smart and a great leader, too.”

Mendoza became a TB12 disciple. He sleeps eight hours a night, minimum. He read the book that explains Brady’s methodologies. He can recite which foods (strawberries, seedless tomatoes) Brady avoids because he considers them inflammatory. 

And, like Brady, Mendoza knew. One video for the wristband company TonyBandz, from July 2024, is often cited for an offhanded comment Mendoza made about not having time to date. But those citing that minor brick in his wider story missed the important thing Mendoza said that afternoon. That he could make the NFL if the next two college seasons went “really, really well.”

As the draft nears, Mendoza understands that his story, from the outside, ranks among the most improbable in sports history. But that’s to everyone else. “Did I know I was going to win a national championship or one of the prestigious awards? No idea,” he says.

But improbable? “I don’t think this is,” Mendoza says, meaning to him and at all.

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Mendoza was not ranked as one of the top-100 quarterbacks in his high school class. | Kohjiro Kinno/Sports Illustrated

To better understand how Mendoza fits in the NFL, Sports Illustrated polled five talent evaluators—two general managers, one in each conference; one player personnel director; and two scouts, both of whom evaluated the QB in person.

All cited the same elite skills: accuracy on almost every type of throw; consistency in setting up receivers for runs after catches; no fear in launching attempts downfield; red zone effectiveness (65.7 completion percentage in that area last season, with 27 touchdown passes and zero interceptions); anticipation; ball placement; toughness; clutch play in tense moments (he led game-winning, fourth-quarter drives, from behind, against Iowa, Oregon and Penn State); bounce-back ability (Mendoza struggled in each of those games, too); personality; quick release; compact motion; and intellect.

They also cited the same range of skills that Mendoza must continue to develop: accuracy on deep throws; arm talent (better than average, not elite yet); mobility; and sack avoidance. Both general managers and the pro personnel director noted that where and how Mendoza develops will define whether the improbable part of his career is next. Brady looms large in that conversation, too. The No. 1 pick is held by the Raiders, where Brady has an ownership stake and is reportedly becoming more involved in personnel decisions.

Mendoza and his many supporters note his proof of concept: 2025. His QB coach at Indiana, Chandler Whitmer, says Mendoza didn’t strike him as a future pro when they started working together. They focused first on Mendoza’s polish in the pocket; footwork, eye positioning, handling the chaos inherent in any play. After a few weeks, Whitmer saw Mendoza as “different and special” and bound for the NFL.

See, Mendoza wanted to be developed. That’s why he chose Indiana. “Most coachable guy I’ve ever been around,” Whitmer says.

Mendoza’s most critical refinement started between his ears. “You can see it,” Whitmer says. “Sometimes, his brain goes faster than his mouth.” Bad plays, series or quarters could spiral him. His college career had unfolded in three stages: just happy to be at Cal, playing college football; heightened expectations, overthinking and overtoiling; letting go, working smarter and playing with more flow.

Mike Pawlawski, a retired NFL QB turned performance mindset coach, met Mendoza at Cal. Mendoza wasn’t playing much but had a growth mindset. He asked more questions than the beat reporters and scribbled notes like his future depended on how many he wrote down.

They assessed Mendoza’s patterns—in how he trained, or what happened inside his mind and body before clutch moments—and worked to break the ones that hindered him. Mendoza learned how to reset in the moment, be present and stay comfortable. That, Pawlawski says, is where Mendoza “really, really grew from Cal to Indiana.”

“And he stepped into that situation at Indiana with a team that appreciated him and was going to give him room to grow,” Pawlawski says. “That allowed him to utilize all these tools he’d amassed.”

Pawlawski often disagreed with Golden Bears coaches who picked apart every Mendoza performance. They had no sense, he says, of what the kid could truly become. After only three games with the Hoosiers in 2025—and dozens of conversations with Mendoza—Pawlawski called a friend and said, “Fernando’s gonna win the f---ing Heisman this year.”

“He’s improved a ton emotionally and cognitively,” adds Pawlawski.

In the NFL, personal, emotional and cognitive growth matter only if improvements in those areas yield wins. Mendoza has those, too, from a walk-off throw to beat Penn State to the touchdown on a fourth-and-4 quarterback draw that sealed the Hoosiers’ national championship triumph over Miami.

Mendoza ran to Indiana’s sideline afterward and struck the Heisman pose. “Is this kid all right?” Whitmer wondered. Mendoza completed 72% of his passes in ’25, for 3,535 yards and 41 touchdowns. He didn’t throw any interceptions in the College Football Playoff. “That [pose] was probably the most overt moment of his life,” Whitmer says.

Sports movies have been based on far less.

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Mendoza showcased his ability with the Hoosiers and has been hard at work on improvements leading up to the draft. | James Black/Icon Sportswire/Getty Images

Mom’s wise words—You’re Fernando Mendoza—matter more than ever now. They matter because how NFL teams evaluate quarterbacks is changing. The always nebulous concept of what makes a prototypical signal-caller matters less than ever, because prospects begin development so early and schematics change so often. Fit—between a quarterback, offensive coaches and their scheme—has never been more important. Which is why evaluators rarely admit publicly that a prospect like Mendoza can somehow score “too high” on an intelligence test. The best offensive coaches in pro football care most about what makes Mendoza different, what separates him.

The Raiders have an elite young running back in Ashton Jeanty, an elite young tight end in Brock Bowers, a new center in free agent Tyler Linderbaum, a new head coach in offensive-minded Klint Kubiak and a trusted offensive coordinator in Andrew Janocko. It’s a good time to have the top pick, because Las Vegas appears to fit with Mendoza as well as any franchise.

As perhaps the most unlikely No. 1 pick in NFL history, Mendoza sought both growth and refinement as the draft approached. He trained at the Excel Performance Center in Southern California. He won’t resemble an entirely new QB at his first minicamps. He didn’t throw at the combine, though he did at Indiana’s pro day on April 1. He chose to do that because he wanted to highlight the strengths of his teammates at Indiana who are also in the draft.

The seeds he’s sowing now are expected to yield bigger gains in future months or even years. More than anything, that’s reps. Only on-field experience will make Mendoza even more decisive. “Knowledge, as a weapon, will be big for him,” says Whitmer, now Tampa Bay’s quarterbacks coach. “Because, man, he is the most accurate quarterback I’ve been around. He was deadly because he put so much time into understanding every single concept. There was very little hesitation in his game.”

Development, for Mendoza, may be easier than the second prong of his immediate ambitions. What makes NFL franchise quarterback the hardest job in sports is the position’s inherent duality, the need for superstars to fit seamlessly into the locker room but also stand apart from teammates as a leader and franchise face. In public, Brady could come across as robotic or awkward. But teammates experienced the Brady who anchored locker rooms with his personality and humanity—more, even, than through his greatness.

Mendoza doesn’t need to become Brady. But he must create a similar buy-in from his first NFL locker room. In a sport where smarts are sometimes viewed in more than one way, that task is far more complicated than it might sound.

And yet, Mendoza showcased his ability to blend and bolster in that lone season with the Hoosiers. Pawlawski, who spoke to Mendoza weekly in 2025, describes him as a human magnet, adding that his teammates at Cal wanted Mendoza to start more than his coaches did. “People should never, ever, take him for granted or underestimate Fernando Mendoza,” Pawlawski says. “If they do, they don’t understand him. He will never create his own limitations.”

In our interview, Mendoza notes something he noticed in recent months, that many NFL coaches seem to view their college football counterparts as less intellectual than those who reach the pros. “There’s sometimes a little bit of … ego, like, ‘O.K., I can make this guy, more of a raw product, into a refined product,’ ” Mendoza says. “Although people would say, maybe, that’s Sam Darnold … in reality, like we’ve seen how Sam’s grown from his rookie year to, now, Super Bowl champion, one of the best in the league.”

Mendoza says recent QB play proves that so-called prototypical pocket passers no longer automatically equate to readiness to play that position in the modern NFL. “I have so much more room to grow,” he says, winding to a conclusion of sorts. “Just because you fit that mold doesn’t mean you’re ready.”

Human magnet, right? Flash back a couple months, to the night of the Heisman ceremony. There’s a picture on Mendoza’s Instagram page. It features him and several Hoosiers teammates in Times Square, celebrating his Heisman win. Look closely at his teammates’ faces. Drink in the pure, almost childlike joy in their expressions. Then understand that they paid their own way, and that Mendoza only received limited tickets to the ceremony, so they couldn’t be in the room for the big moment. But they still went. For him.

Mom was always right, wasn’t she? Elsa Mendoza played college tennis at Miami, was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis nearly two decades ago, and never stopped instilling in Fernando all that he now displays on increasingly larger stages. Elsa invested in him, Fernando says, teaching him how to throw and taking him to speech therapy for the stutter that still surfaces occasionally. She’d set up obstacle courses in local parks, like American Ninja Warrior, and task Fernando with completing them—starting at age 8. “She spent so much time on me,” he says. “It’s insane.”

They’re part of a larger family, as the Mendoza Mafia is sometimes called. Reunions draw hundreds of relatives to the Biltmore in Coral Gables, members from each branch of the larger tree all clad in the same color T-shirts. The colors correspond to their respective branches. There are flow charts. They came from Cuba, after the Castros overthrew the government. When Fernando gave part of his Heisman acceptance speech in Spanish, he spoke to them.

He saved his most poignant words for Mom. “You taught me that toughness doesn’t need to be loud. It can be quiet and strong. It’s choosing hope. It’s believing in yourself when the world doesn’t give you much reason to.”

I wonder what Mendoza will make of this quote: Hope is a discipline. His mind cycles. He speaks of needing inputs to get outputs. He gave up fried food last season, per the TB12 method. He tried giving up sugar, but his kryptonite—donuts—proved too strong.

Elsa taught Fernando what most miss about stoicism, too. It’s not a passive philosophy, akin to giving up. A discipline. Intentional, daily progress, with no end point beyond a fortification of self and a letting go of all things—criticisms, falsehoods, draft statuses—we cannot control.

“It’s the highest form of self-respect,” Mendoza says. He sounds like Tom Brady. Or Marcus Aurelius. Better yet, he sounds like Fernando Mendoza, the riddle, already answered, with improbable still ahead.       

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