FOXBOROUGH, Mass. – For more than two decades, Deb Ross has stood guard outside the New England Revolution locker room as part of TeamOps security staff. While players have come and gone, coaches changed, and seasons passed, Deb has remained, always with a warm smile, an infectious energy, and an unwavering support for the team – even throughout her recent battle with cancer.

Last season, Ross, 77, underwent treatment for lymphoma. Despite her diagnosis, exhaustion, hair loss, and endless medical appointments, she only missed a single match, finding strength in the team she had spent years looking after. On her hardest days, she says the team was her reason for getting out of bed.

“Near the end of treatment when my hair started growing back in, it was so funny. I was wearing a newsboy cap and pulled it up to show one of the guys my fuzz. He reached in and fluffed it up, and another player saw, so then he wanted to fluff it,” she said. “I take that energy, and I bring it in, and I use it as healing energy. I take in their energy and I try to push it back out to them to give them some good.”

Ross has been a Revolution fan since their inaugural season, attending the club’s first games at Foxboro Stadium with her godsons in 1996 and purchasing them season tickets for years afterwards. Then one day, a small moment changed everything – an interaction with a helpful security member inspired her to ask about the job. Soon after, she was working security herself.

In the hierarchy of stadium security, the home locker room door is a coveted position – a post she was once removed from when it was declared a woman shouldn’t be standing guard outside a men’s locker room. Since starting outside the locker door, those were the only years she hasn’t held the post.

For Ross, it's more than just a job. Standing outside that door for decades has made her part of the team in her own way, building chemistry with players and staff just as if she were one of them.

“It’s a standing joke – I always open the door for them when they’re coming in, but I also open it for them right as they’re coming out. Some of them still don’t know how I do that, and I’m not telling them,” she said with a smile. “I just tell them I have a sixth sense.”

The job is more than just good timing and keeping the players secure. Ross knows when it’s too cold and the door needs to be shut. She senses when the coaches are about to start speaking and the team needs privacy. It’s a language she has learned over time.

“We’ve developed that understanding," she explained. "Other people who come in to work the locker room don’t know to do that right away. It’s about making sure everything runs smoothly – even down to opening and closing the door. That’s important. It makes their jobs easier. It’s just one less thing for them to think about.”

Just three years shy of 80, Ross is nowhere near slowing down. When she’s not standing guard outside the locker room, she’s on ski patrol in the winters, singing with a local chorale group, or practicing archery. Easing up has never been her style, but since undergoing cancer treatment, she says she’s sourced a lot of her energy from the team.

While she has felt like more of a taker lately, it was hard for her to see just how much she actually gives. For that, the team wanted to honor her and show just how important her role is, bestowing her with an Eastern White Pine jersey, signed by every player, and emblazoned with the title of “Team Mom” across the back.

“I was mind-boggled. They gave me one last year with my name on it, and that was just so special,” she said. “It made me feel like I was a part of the team. It was a real jersey, with a real number, and a real name, but this jersey was just another step on top of that. It’s a reality check in a way, because it makes me think maybe I should believe in myself a bit more. I feel like I can support them in an uplifting way and that I really do contribute.”

With players, coaches, and even officials always happy to see her in the Gillette Stadium tunnel, Ross does more than just guard the door. “I don’t mind being mom. I want to be a release valve for some of the pressure these guys feel. Especially if it’s their first season here, maybe I can be a safe haven.”

Beyond hugs and custom jerseys, the Revolution wanted to further express their appreciation for Ross, hosting her at a recent training session ahead of their first win of the season over the New York Red Bulls. At the start of practice, head coach Caleb Porter asked if she would share a few words of wisdom with the team.

“Quite honestly, there aren’t words to express the feeling. All the words that come out – honor, privilege, wow. Really, it just makes me feel like a 12-year-old kid,” she said. “It’s a 12-year-old’s dream come true.”

Although, that day at the training ground wasn’t the first time that Ross had given the team a pep talk. Late last season, with the team going through a difficult stretch and with Porter suspended for the Revs’ home match against Nashville SC, assistant coach Pablo Moreira stepped into a leading role on an interim basis.

On Moreira’s way into the locker room that night, Ross greeted him as she always did. In remission, her hair beginning to grow back, she shared with him just how much the team had helped her through recovery. It was a story that stuck with him.

Moreira realized that her words carried more weight than anything he could say to fire up the team. So, instead of delivering the pregame speech himself, he asked Ross to do it instead.

“That blew me away. That really blew me away,” she said, reflecting on the moment.

Her words had an obvious impact on the team, as they went out and beat Nashville 1-0 that night, with the sole breakthrough coming off the head of Brandon Bye – his first goal since returning from ACL surgery.

“When she spoke to the team, it was from the heart,” said Moreira. “You could see on the guys’ faces that they were inspired by it.”

After the win, Moreira was gifted the game ball, signed by the players – and even Ross – but every time he looked at it, he couldn’t help but think of her.

“If every time I’m walking past this ball and my first thought is Deb, not my first win, this deserves to be in somebody else’s hands,” he explained. “It deserved to be in her hands.”

So, during that recent training visit, he decided to surprise her with it.

“She’s an inspiration to me and the team. Not only on that day, but every day, whether we win or lose she’s an inspiration,” he said. “When I decided to give her the ball and I saw her face and saw how much it meant to her, in that moment I knew it was in the hands it should be in.”

Holding back emotions, Ross was at a rare loss for words. It was a gift so special, she said that she’d put it somewhere she could see it every day.

During her visit to training and through yet another pregame speech, Ross wove her magic once again. Just as her words had inspired victory over Nashville last season, the team carried her spirit into their recent match against New York – and walked away with the first Revolution win of 2025.

She was happy to see smiles as the players made their way back to the locker room following that final whistle. From her post in the tunnel, she’s not able to watch the games, but she doesn’t need to see the goals to know the score. She reads the game on the players’ faces as they walk in, and she carries all the emotions with them.

“It hurts when they lose,” she said. “But I know even if they don’t win, they’ve put everything into it. They’ve put their hearts into it. People in the stands and people online may never see it, but when you are standing there at the door and they are coming in at the end of the game, you see the looks on their faces. It’s painful when they’ve lost, but it’s so exhilarating when they win.”

While her duties require Ross to be there for the team no matter what, her presence outside that door has never been just a job.

“Win, lose, or draw, these are my guys, and I’ll stand up for them anytime,” she said. “It doesn’t matter what happens out there.”

Ross’ support has given players and coaches strength in ways they may never fully realize, just as they have done the same for her. And as long as she’s standing outside that locker room, she will keep pushing that energy back to them. Whether it comes in the form of a pep talk, a tight hug, or a simple cheer when they walk through the door, her impact is felt by everyone.

Ross doesn’t simply keep the players safe; she creates a safe space. As she always says, “security with TeamOps is my job, but security for the Revolution is my passion.”