“I Didn’t Know I Still Had It, I’m Not Going to Lie,” Former Kentucky WR Scott Mitchell Stuns With Comeback Spark

“I didn’t know I still had it, I’m not going to lie.”

Those words, laced with equal parts disbelief and quiet pride, came from former Kentucky Wildcats wide receiver Scott Mitchell after a recent performance that stunned fans, teammates, and even Mitchell himself. After years away from the field and with most assuming his football journey was long behind him, Mitchell found himself once again lacing up his cleats—and, somehow, stealing the spotlight.

A decade removed from his college days in Lexington, Mitchell had become a name spoken with a nostalgic smile. He wasn’t the most statistically dominant receiver in Kentucky’s history, but what he brought to the program in terms of grit, leadership, and timely plays was unforgettable. From his smooth routes to his sideline toe-taps, Mitchell had a knack for the moment. Yet even the most passionate Big Blue Nation members didn’t expect his name to resurface in 2025.

So when video emerged from a local charity flag football game—hosted as a benefit for youth programs in Louisville—of Mitchell running crisp routes, high-pointing passes, and blowing past younger, fitter defenders, the internet took notice.

It wasn’t just a nice story. It was a revelation.

“I’ve been coaching kids, working full time, and maybe tossing the ball around on weekends,” Mitchell explained afterward, laughing. “But when I got out there, man, something clicked. I just felt like I was twenty-one again. I didn’t know I still had it, I’m not going to lie.”

The phrase caught fire, instantly becoming a trending quote among Kentucky sports fans and even making its way onto unofficial fan merchandise. Shirts emblazoned with “I Still Had It” began popping up at Wildcats events. What was supposed to be a casual community event had turned into something much more symbolic—a reflection of how sports never fully leave you, and how sometimes, talent just sleeps until it’s called upon again.

To understand the weight of Mitchell’s moment, one has to go back to his time as a Wildcat.

He arrived in Lexington in 2010 as a lightly recruited athlete from a small high school in western Kentucky. Undersized but possessing lightning-fast footwork and the kind of work ethic coaches dream about, Mitchell turned heads early in fall camp. He wasn’t the flashiest player on the roster, but he soon became a fan favorite for his knack for getting open and his ability to make the difficult catches look routine.

By his senior season in 2013, Mitchell had solidified himself as a steady, reliable presence in Kentucky’s offense. While his final stat line wouldn’t jump off the page—he ended his career with just over 1,100 yards and six touchdowns—his impact was far greater than numbers could express. He was often the third-down guy, the locker room voice, the one who took young receivers under his wing. He was, in every sense, the soul of the unit.

After graduation, Mitchell quietly transitioned out of the spotlight. He had short stints in semi-pro football and arena leagues, but nothing quite stuck. Eventually, he returned to his roots—settling into life as a father, mentor, and high school coach. Football was still there, but more in spirit than action. He never completely hung it up, but he also never truly imagined he’d suit up competitively again.

That made the moment at the charity game all the more powerful.

“I didn’t think anyone was filming, to be honest,” Mitchell said with a chuckle. “I just wanted to help support a good cause, maybe throw a few blocks, run a few routes for fun. Next thing I know, I’m catching touchdowns, and someone’s telling me my highlights are going viral.”

And viral they were. His leaping snag over two defenders made ESPN’s social platforms. Former teammates began tagging him, jokingly asking if he was ready to rejoin the Wildcats as a graduate assistant—or perhaps more seriously, join the XFL or USFL. One tweet from a current UK player read, “Coach Stoops, sign this man!”

For Mitchell, though, it wasn’t about validation or starting a comeback. It was something deeper.

“There’s something about doing what you love that never leaves you,” he said. “Life happens, sure. You get older, your knees hurt, priorities change. But that joy—running a perfect route, feeling the ball drop in your hands, hearing people cheer—it’s magic. And for a moment, I got to feel that again.”

He’s not planning a professional return. At 33, Mitchell is content with his role as a youth mentor and high school coach. But the spark from the game has reignited something he didn’t realize was missing. He’s started training again—not to compete, but to teach. He’s been holding weekend clinics, sharing not just drills, but stories.

“I think kids need to see that it’s not all about stats or making the league,” Mitchell said. “It’s about passion. It’s about showing up every day, knowing that even when no one’s watching, you’re giving your best.”

In the days since the viral game, Mitchell’s inbox has been flooded. Parents asking for advice. Former teammates reminiscing. Kentucky fans thanking him for giving them one more moment of Wildcat magic.

One message stuck with him in particular.

“A kid from Hazard messaged me, said he was thinking of quitting his high school team because he didn’t feel good enough,” Mitchell recalled. “But after seeing the clips and hearing my story, he said he realized maybe he had something left in him too. That meant everything.”

Mitchell’s story has become a quiet anthem for resilience, for rediscovering buried greatness, and for remembering that age doesn’t dull your shine—it just reshapes how you let it out.

In the grand scheme of sports, it’s easy to overlook stories like Mitchell’s. No championship ring. No draft night call. No national spotlight. But there’s a different kind of victory in his journey—one earned through years of showing up, staying grounded, and still, somehow, surprising even himself.

“I’ve got a wife, two kids, bills to pay, a whistle around my neck,” Mitchell said, smiling. “But on that field, for those few minutes, I remembered what it felt like to dream.”

And in doing so, he reminded a whole generation of Wildcats fans—and perhaps some lost dreamers, too—that the fire inside doesn’t go out. It just waits for its cue.

“I didn’t know I still had it,” he said again, almost to himself.

But now, the world does.