The number 8 doesn’t usually spark legal briefs. But in the world of pro football, it’s shorthand for legacy. Lamar Jackson’s legacy is still in the making, an MVP, a face of the Ravens, and a man who’s turned “Era 8” into a brand as recognizable in Baltimore as his sideline grin. Troy Aikman’s, meanwhile, is etched in NFL history. UCLA star turned Cowboys icon, three Super Bowl rings, Hall of Fame gold jacket. Two quarterbacks. Two careers. One number that means something very different to each of them.

And then, on a Tuesday afternoon, Aikman leans into the moment. On Instagram, he reposted a Front Office Sports update to his story, the headline in clean, bold type. “Lamar Jackson Drops No. 8 Fight Against Troy Aikman.” No captions, no emojis. Just a Hall of Fame QB letting the headline do the talking. It wasn’t loud, but it didn’t have to be.

That headline summed up a 13-month battle that started in July 2024, when Jackson filed an opposition with the USPTO to block Troy Aikman’s company, FL101, from trademarking the word “EIGHT” for apparel, drinkware, bags, even beer taps. Jackson’s argument was clear. His “Era 8” and related marks had been used for years in merchandising, and Aikman’s registration could confuse consumers into thinking they were buying Jackson’s gear.

Aikman’s legal team pushed back, framing “EIGHT” as a generic term tied to his own long-public association with the number, from UCLA to the Cowboys. They leaned on his decades-long visibility in sports and broadcasting, and the fact that trademarks protect brands, not numbers themselves.

The process was slow. Motions, filings, and procedural deadlines came and went. No public settlement talks surfaced. And then, on August 13, 2025, Jackson’s attorney filed to withdraw the opposition with prejudice, legal code for ‘this case is closed, and it’s not coming back.’ That effectively clears Aikman’s path to trademark “EIGHT” nationwide under his company’s name.

No statement from Jackson. No direct victory lap from Aikman, just that repost. A subtle flex. A digital shrug. And a reminder that sometimes a win in the courtroom feels just as sweet as one on the field.

Troy Aikman also lost once

Troy Aikman has worn plenty of hats since walking off the NFL field for the last time in 2000. Broadcaster, beer entrepreneur, real estate investor, and, for a brief, turbulent stretch, NASCAR team owner. That last one? It’s the chapter most fans forget, partly because it burned bright, fizzled fast, and cost a lot more than anyone expected.

Back in the early 2000s, Aikman teamed up with fellow Cowboys legend Roger Staubach and road racing veteran Bill Saunders to form Hall of Fame Racing. On paper, it was a star-powered entry into stock car’s top tier. They had the name recognition. They had the financial backing. And in 2006, after years of planning, they had a car, the #96, fielded in partnership with Joe Gibbs Racing, with two-time Cup champ Terry Labonte sharing driving duties with Tony Raines.

Results? Meh. The rookie season ended 26th in points, respectable for a new team but nowhere near what the founders had in mind. By mid-2007, Aikman and Staubach already saw enough of NASCAR’s brutal economics to start quietly backing out. They sold a majority stake to Arizona Diamondbacks executives, stuck around as minority owners, and handed the wheel to JJ Yeley. The gamble didn’t pay off. The team slid to 39th in the standings.

By 2008, the U.S. economy was cratering and NASCAR sponsors were vanishing. Hall of Fame Racing broke away from Gibbs, aligned with Yates Racing, and brought Bobby Labonte into the fold. One more grinding, underwhelming season later, the team shut its doors. Whether it was the recession or the realization that their hearts were never fully in it, Aikman’s NASCAR adventure ended in a quiet exit.

In short, Troy Aikman’s business resume mirrors his playing career. Deliberate decisions, calculated risks, and a willingness to get hit now and then. The NASCAR run might’ve been a failed drive, but it’s still a fascinating pit stop in the long road he’s taken since hanging up his helmet.