Rewind three months: The Saints, desperate for cap space, restructured Carr’s $150 M deal, freeing up $30.9 M. Days later, he suffered a gnarly shoulder injury (Labral tear). Degenerative rotator cuff. The kind of diagnosis that turns “next season” into a myth. So Carr did what he’s always done—’audibled’. In the NFL, retirement isn’t an end—it’s a lateral pass into the great unknown. For Derek Carr, the 34-year-old quarterback who once slung spirals under the Vegas lights and the New Orleans jazz haze, that next play? It’s sweet. Literally.

“We’re excited to share that former NFL stars Derek and David Carr have officially joined Frönen as brand ambassadors!” the QB announced on Instagram, his grin wider than a goalpost. “From the football field to the freezer aisle… this is personal.” The post, dripping with family pride and protein-packed dessert plugs, felt less like a retirement whimper and more like a victory formation. But for Carr, this pivot wasn’t just about swapping playbooks for popsicles. It was survival.

“Upon reflection of prayer, and in discussion with Heather, I’ve decided to retire,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with the melancholy of unfinished business. Retired with $80 M in the bank, walked away from $30 M guaranteed, and let New Orleans keep a $10 M roster bonus as a parting gift.

Let’s not sugarcoat it: Carr’s Saints tenure was a gumbo of grit and regret. After nine years as Las Vegas’ golden arm—setting franchise records in yards (35,222) and TDs (217)—he inked that monster deal with New Orleans, only to go 14-13 as a starter. Two seasons, 6,023 yards, 40 TDs, and a shoulder that quit faster than a rookie in August drills. When Kellen Moore arrived as HC, Carr envisioned a Red Dead Redemption arc. Instead, he got a Game Over screen.

But here’s the twist: Carr’s post-NFL hustle might just be his magnum opus. Frönen, the dairy-free dessert empire he’s championing with brother David (and their ‘CEO wives’), isn’t some vanity project. It’s a family playbook—a Hail Mary of passion and business savvy. This is all their wives’ doing, Derek admitted, laughing. ‘They’re the brains’. The Carrs aren’t just slinging ice cream; they’re crafting a legacy smoother than a ‘play-action fake’.

New Orleans’ bittersweet adieu

The Big Easy loves a comeback story, but Carr’s exit left a sour taste. Once the face of a would-be revival, he became a cap casualty, a wounded warrior watching Moore’s new QB duel from the sidelines. Then he quit. Yet, in true Carr fashion, he’s spinning the narrative. No tearful pressers. No woe is me tweets. Just Frönen ads, credit union partnerships, and moonlit plans with Heather and their four kids.

Carr’s career? A 169-game odyssey of broken bones (fibula, back, hand) and unbroken spirit. Four Pro Bowls. $195 M earned. A net worth thicker than a Saints defensive playbook. And now, a freezer stocked with ambition. ‘What’s been fun is doing it together,’ David says of their ventures. For Derek, that’s the game plan—family first, profits second, and a side of vegan cookie dough.

Retirement isn’t surrender; it’s a flea-flicker into the unknown. So while Saints fans debate whether Spencer Rattler or Tyler Shough can fill Carr’s cleats, the man himself is too busy taste-testing mango sorbet and mentoring rookies… in boardrooms, not locker rooms.

Carr might say, echoing his Raiders glory days. ‘This is just the next drive.’ And for a guy who turned freezer aisles into end zones? Bet on him scoring.