Montana Mayhem! NFL Turns Its Back on Small-Town Stars Mellott & Bergen—Heartbreak, Conspiracy, and Outrage Erupt

It was supposed to be just another boring Tuesday in the NFL offseason, a day where teams quietly cut down their bloated 90-man rosters to the league-mandated 53, the kind of day usually reserved for crushing the dreams of undrafted rookies, special teams hopefuls, and guys who peaked in high school.

But this week, the NFL unleashed something far darker, far more scandalous, and far more Montana-infuriating than anyone could have imagined.

In a move that has sparked outrage, disbelief, and actual candlelight vigils outside Walmart in Billings, the league’s executioners swung their axes and chopped down two small-town legends in the same breath: Tommy “Touchdown” Mellott of Butte and Junior “Highlight Reel” Bergen of Billings.

 

Yes, you read that correctly.

The pride of Montana, the two guys who gave America heartwarming Division I-AA storylines and trick-play magic that ESPN sometimes remembered to show at 2 a. m. , have been thrown into the NFL trash heap like leftovers from a gas station hot dog stand.

And the reaction has been nothing short of nuclear.

Social media exploded instantly.

Within seconds of the news breaking, hashtags like #JusticeForTommy and #BringBackJunior were trending, with one outraged fan tweeting, “The NFL just cut the soul of football.

Cancel the season. ”

Another wrote, “This league kept Zach Wilson for three years but can’t find a spot for Mellott? Jail time. ”

Meanwhile, Montana itself basically lost its collective mind.

Butte locals reportedly gathered at a bar, banged their beer mugs together, and started chanting, “Mellott Forever!” while Bergen’s old high school allegedly lowered its flag to half-staff.

One Montana politician even posted, “We might secede from the NFL entirely.

Enjoy your soulless billion-dollar machine.

Montana football is pure, and you don’t deserve it. ”

Bold words for a state with fewer people than some New York apartment complexes.

 

But let’s not pretend this is just about football.

Oh no, dear readers, this is about betrayal, about corruption, about the cold, cruel machinery of the NFL crushing wholesome small-town dreams under its steel-toed boots.

One fake insider we spoke to, “Coach Ronny Clipboard,” said, “This isn’t about talent.

This is about marketability.

The NFL doesn’t care if you can throw, run, or catch.

If you don’t bring Jersey Shore-level drama to the locker room, you’re out. ”

He then added, “Also, I need bus fare,” which made us question his credentials, but we digress.

Tommy Mellott, for those who don’t remember (because let’s be real, you weren’t watching Montana State football unless you lost a bet), was the kind of quarterback Hollywood loves to put in inspirational sports movies.

Small-town kid.

Chip on his shoulder.

Could run, could throw, could smile at cameras like he was born for a Gatorade commercial.

He was nicknamed “Touchdown Tommy” for his knack of scoring in crucial moments, a nickname he will now have to explain awkwardly at Costco while stocking shelves.

Meanwhile, Junior Bergen was Montana’s ultimate hometown hero — the kid from Billings who could turn a five-yard slant into a 70-yard highlight and make defenses look like they were running in molasses.

The two together represented hope, grit, and that rare college magic where fans believed in miracles.

But in the NFL, miracles don’t survive roster cuts.

 

So why did they get waived? Officially, teams needed to trim down from 90 to 53 players.

Unofficially, because the NFL is allergic to underdog stories that don’t involve Tom Brady.

A fake GM we spoke to, who demanded anonymity but looked suspiciously like a guy working at Starbucks, said, “Look, if you’re not 6’5, run a 4. 3 forty, and date a pop star, you’re not sticking around.

That’s just the business. ”

He then spilled caramel macchiato foam on his tie and stormed out, but his point was made.

The hypocrisy is glaring.

The NFL will keep around third-string quarterbacks who couldn’t hit a barn door with a beach ball.

They’ll hold on to receivers who drop more passes than toddlers drop ice cream cones.

Yet Mellott and Bergen? Gone.

Waived.

Relegated to waiver wires, practice squads, or worse: becoming assistant coaches at their alma maters before turning 25.

One angry Montana fan told us outside a Bozeman gas station, “They’d rather keep a punter who can’t punt in a dome than give Mellott a chance.

This is rigged.

Rigged, I tell you!” His friend nodded, adding, “I haven’t been this mad since they discontinued Crystal Pepsi. ”

Strong words indeed.

 

And let’s talk about the conspiracy angle, because what’s a tabloid without one? Some theorists are convinced this wasn’t just a normal cut day — it was an orchestrated hit job on Montana football.

“The NFL doesn’t want Montana kids succeeding,” claimed Dr.

Pigskin, our go-to fake analyst.

“Because if Mellott or Bergen made it, then suddenly scouts would have to look at other states no one cares about.

Like Wyoming.

And nobody wants that. ”

He then pulled out a chart showing how the Cowboys, Broncos, and Vikings all allegedly conspired to block Montana talent from breaking through.

Honestly, it looked like a pizza menu, but who are we to doubt an expert?

Meanwhile, the fans are already planning Mellott and Bergen’s next moves.

Some want them signed immediately by the CFL, where they can dominate against guys named “Trevor from Saskatchewan.

” Others are begging the XFL or USFL (or whatever spring league is still alive this week) to scoop them up.

One fan started a petition to make them WWE tag-team champions instead.

And one particularly bold commenter wrote, “Put them on Dancing with the Stars.

America needs to see what Montana swag looks like in sequins. ”

Honestly, that might be their best shot.

Of course, the NFL itself hasn’t said a word.

Coaches gave their usual robotic answers: “Tough decisions, roster depth, it’s a business, yada yada yada. ”

Translation: “We cut the kids you liked because we’re soulless robots who only smile when our yachts appreciate in value. ”

But here’s the kicker: rumors are swirling that Mellott was actually closer to making the roster than people realized.

One insider whispered that Mellott’s locker was right next to the starting QB’s and that he had been invited to a team barbecue.

 

In NFL terms, that’s practically a blood oath.

The fact that he still got axed suggests something darker — perhaps an owner’s vendetta, a bad fortune cookie, or maybe just the eternal curse of Montana sports.

Meanwhile, Junior Bergen is reportedly taking it “in stride,” which is athlete code for “crying into Chipotle napkins while tweeting Bible verses. ”

Friends say he’s already had calls from practice squads, but fans aren’t buying it.

One angry supporter yelled, “If this kid isn’t starting for someone by Week 2, I’m never watching again!” before immediately buying Sunday Ticket on YouTube TV.

The fallout has been swift and dramatic.

In Butte, a bakery unveiled “Free Tommy” cookies shaped like broken footballs.

In Billings, a mural of Bergen now has candles and stuffed animals placed beneath it like he’s a fallen rock star.

Local news stations are covering the saga like it’s Watergate.

And national outlets? Well, they’re too busy talking about Aaron Rodgers’ latest ayahuasca trip, but the point is, Montana is shaking.

And maybe that’s what makes this story so uniquely tragic and hilarious.

Mellott and Bergen weren’t supposed to win Super Bowls tomorrow.

 

They weren’t supposed to be MVPs or jersey-selling machines.

They were supposed to be the guys fans rooted for in preseason, the sparks of hope in meaningless August games, the kids you told your uncle about at Thanksgiving.

Cutting them wasn’t just cutting two players.

It was cutting the idea that maybe, just maybe, heart and hustle can still matter in the NFL.

Instead, we’re left with the cold reality: heart doesn’t sell, hustle doesn’t trend, and underdogs don’t survive roster massacre day.

So where do we go from here? Mellott will probably land on a practice squad.

Bergen might, too.

Maybe one of them will rise again, like a phoenix from the waiver wire, and lead a playoff team in 2026.

Or maybe they’ll both end up selling insurance in Helena while fans whisper about what could have been.

Either way, this cut day has become more than just a transaction log.

It’s become a Montana tragedy, an NFL conspiracy, and a tabloid goldmine.

As one fan outside a Butte bar screamed into a microphone, “This isn’t just about football.

This is about justice.

And if the NFL doesn’t give us justice, then we’ll give them hell!” He then tripped on the curb, spilled his beer, and swore loudly, which felt like the perfect metaphor for Montana football dreams in 2025.

 

In the end, Mellott and Bergen may be gone, but they are not forgotten.

At least not until Thursday, when the NFL signs some other random kid and the cycle repeats.

Still, for one brief, chaotic moment, the entire sports world was forced to ask a question it never thought it would: What happens when you break Montana’s heart?

The answer? A headline like this, a fan base in shambles, and a league that once again proves it will always choose cold business over warm underdog fairytales.

And that, dear readers, is the real tragedy of roster cut day.