Former Notre Dame Star Benjamin Morrison Just Had His NFL Fate Decided by Something Entirely Outside of His Own Control

Benjamin Morrison is no stranger to pressure. As one of the most poised and productive cornerbacks to come through Notre Dame in recent years, Morrison built a reputation for excelling in high-stakes moments and locking down elite receivers in the biggest games. He rose through the college ranks with sharp instincts, fierce competitiveness, and a quiet confidence that turned him into a projected first-round NFL Draft pick. Yet despite his relentless preparation and undeniable talent, Morrison’s NFL destiny just took a dramatic turn—because of something entirely out of his control.

Morrison’s story has always revolved around control. He controlled games. He controlled narratives. As a sophomore, he led Notre Dame in interceptions and pass breakups, anchoring a secondary that ranked among the nation’s elite. When the Fighting Irish faced powerhouse offenses, Morrison routinely rose to the occasion. His film was a masterclass in technique and discipline. NFL scouts praised his footwork, ball skills, and patience in man coverage. Mock drafts pegged him as a top-15 lock.

But all of that began to shift in recent weeks—not due to anything Morrison did wrong, but because of a wave of unforeseen circumstances that reshaped the NFL cornerback market and draft priorities overnight.

The ripple effect began with a devastating injury to a top-tier NFL veteran cornerback during a team’s voluntary offseason program. A freak accident, a torn Achilles. Suddenly, a playoff contender was left without its All-Pro cornerback, just weeks before training camp. What followed was a frenzy of trade calls, desperate roster reshuffling, and a new lens through which NFL front offices began viewing their draft boards.

At the same time, two underclassmen corners who had previously been projected to return to school made last-minute declarations for the NFL Draft after receiving feedback that skyrocketed their stock. With more first-round talent now on the board, the once-thin cornerback class became overcrowded at the top. Teams that had Morrison circled as a high-priority target started looking elsewhere—whether due to scheme fit, medical red flags, or late-breaking preferences for more physically imposing corners.

Morrison, at 6-foot and just under 190 pounds, has never been the biggest cornerback in the room. But his skill set has always compensated for that. Yet the sudden influx of taller, longer prospects disrupted the logic of teams drafting in the mid-to-late first round. Several defensive coordinators reportedly pushed their GMs to go with press-heavy, boundary corners with a longer wingspan.

Then came the combine—a stage Morrison had long anticipated as a chance to reaffirm his athleticism and boost his draft capital. But fate stepped in again. Just days before he was scheduled to run drills, Morrison fell ill. A non-COVID-related virus kept him from competing. Though he made up for it with a strong pro day showing weeks later in South Bend, the damage had already been done in some evaluators’ eyes. “Availability and momentum mean everything in draft season,” one anonymous AFC scout remarked. “You miss one key stage, and you fall behind in the hype race.”

Morrison’s interviews reportedly went well, with teams praising his football IQ and maturity. But the draft is as much about narrative and perception as it is about tape. And the narrative had shifted—away from Morrison’s tape and toward the flash of newer, less-proven prospects peaking at the right time.

By the time the first round of the draft arrived, Morrison was in the green room, surrounded by his family, friends, and former Notre Dame teammates. The cameras rolled. The anticipation built. But pick after pick went by, and Morrison’s name remained uncalled.

It wasn’t until the middle of the second round that his phone finally rang. It was a team that many had not linked him to at all during the pre-draft cycle. A team that had quietly been monitoring him since his sophomore breakout season, waiting for the board to fall their way. They got what they believed to be a steal. Morrison, ever composed, embraced the moment with grace. But privately, there was no denying the sting.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He had done everything right. He stayed out of trouble, worked harder than anyone in the film room and on the field, stayed loyal to Notre Dame through coaching changes and NIL upheaval, and delivered in every spotlight moment. He didn’t bomb interviews. He didn’t pull a hamstring in a drill. He didn’t post cryptic tweets or show up late to team meetings. His only mistake? Timing. Circumstances. Forces entirely outside his control.

Morrison’s drop wasn’t catastrophic—he still landed on a roster with an elite defensive staff and a clear need in the secondary. But what he lost in prestige and guaranteed contract value, he gained in chip-on-the-shoulder fuel. He will enter training camp not as the chosen one, but as the overlooked one. And that might be exactly what he needs.

Those around Morrison say he’s taken it all in stride. “He doesn’t pout. He just works,” said one former Notre Dame coach. “You tell him he’s too small, he’ll out-jump your best receiver. You tell him he’s not fast enough, he’ll pick off your fastest guy.”

In truth, Morrison now enters the NFL in the same way he entered college football: underestimated. Recruited as a four-star who didn’t get the attention of some of his five-star peers, he immediately earned a starting role and became one of Notre Dame’s most dependable defenders. He has always used doubt as a driving force. Now, he’ll do it again on Sundays.

NFL defensive coordinators will soon find what Notre Dame’s opponents already know—Morrison is a technician. He studies route trees like a quarterback. He disguises coverages. He anticipates with near-telepathic timing. He doesn’t get beat twice by the same route. And when the lights are brightest, he doesn’t flinch.

Even though the draft didn’t unfold the way he envisioned, Morrison’s future is far from dim. There’s every reason to believe he’ll be starting by midseason, if not earlier. His new team’s secondary is young and under construction, and Morrison’s intelligence makes him a plug-and-play candidate in most zone or man-heavy systems. And with the pressure of first-round expectations off his back, he’ll have the freedom to develop without the weight of instant-savior status.

For Notre Dame fans, Morrison will always be a legend. His interceptions in rivalry games, his open-field tackles against future NFL stars, his relentless energy—they’re etched into Irish lore. But his story is far from over. In fact, this twist may end up being the chapter that defines his legacy.

Football is cruel that way. You can spend years crafting the perfect résumé, sharpening every blade in your arsenal, and still find yourself at the mercy of fate. A teammate’s injury. A prospect’s surprise rise. A viral illness. A changing trend in positional value. These are the uncontrollables.

But what you can control is your response.

And if there’s one thing Benjamin Morrison has always done, it’s respond.

With fire.

With focus.

And with something to prove.