Tyrus, the towering figure who once commanded Fox News screens with sharp wit and a voice that couldn’t be ignored, is no longer in front of the cameras. But when the spotlight fades and the media frenzy quiets down, who is the man left standing behind the scenes? For years, audiences have only seen the performer, the commentator, the professional provocateur. What they haven’t seen—until now—is the human being beyond the persona.

Born George Murdoch, Tyrus rose to fame not only through his wrestling persona in WWE as Brodus Clay but also as a television pundit with a bold, often controversial take on modern politics and society. He wasn’t the polished anchor or the soft-spoken analyst—he was the wildcard, the unexpected, the man who wasn’t afraid to speak what others only whispered. Yet in shedding that role, he’s revealing something far more complex: his true self.

In recent interviews, Tyrus has begun to open up about life after television. He describes his current phase as both liberating and terrifying. “You spend so long being ‘on’ all the time,” he confessed. “It’s weird when nobody’s watching anymore.” His words don’t carry regret, but reflection—a rare and raw honesty that many public figures often avoid.

So what does Tyrus’s real life look like now? It’s surprisingly grounded.

He now spends most of his time away from urban lights and media noise. His mornings begin with coffee on the porch of his quiet countryside home. “I wake up, I hear birds instead of producers yelling in my earpiece,” he says with a laugh. “That’s healing.”

Family has taken center stage. For years, Tyrus kept much of his personal life private, shielding his loved ones from the public eye. Now, with the media curtain lowered, he’s embracing fatherhood in a way he never could before. He coaches little league games, helps with homework, and even bakes cookies—something fans would never picture from the fierce TV personality. But for Tyrus, that contrast is exactly the point.

“I was always more than just that guy on screen,” he says. “But you can’t show vulnerability on television. They eat you alive for it.”

He also acknowledges his past missteps, particularly when it comes to his time at Fox News, where he faced internal controversies and criticism over his style. But instead of dodging those moments, he now confronts them with openness. “I’m not perfect. I made choices I wouldn’t today. But that’s growth. That’s real life,” he shared.

Beyond the family and personal reflection, Tyrus has found a new calling in mentorship. He frequently visits community centers and youth programs to speak to young men about responsibility, purpose, and resilience. He doesn’t preach politics; instead, he speaks about discipline, failure, and learning to rebuild when life breaks you.

“I think a lot of these young guys feel like they have to be either tough or lost,” he explains. “I want them to know you can be strong and sensitive. You can fight for something without losing your soul.”

He’s also taken to writing again. Privately. Journals filled with thoughts, fears, and hopes. He says it’s a form of therapy—a way to reconnect with himself. “I never had time to just sit still. Now I do. And sometimes, the stillness speaks louder than the noise ever did.”

Despite stepping away from the screen, Tyrus hasn’t completely shut the door on media. But he says if he returns, it’ll be on his terms. “I want to create something honest, something that reflects where I am now—not who I used to be just to get ratings.”

Still, stepping away hasn’t been without pain. He admits there are moments he misses the rush—the adrenaline of live TV, the fire of debate. “It was addicting,” he says. “But sometimes, addiction looks like success.”

And what about his identity? Is he still Tyrus? Still Brodus Clay? Still George?

“All of them,” he says quietly. “But mostly now, I’m just a guy trying to be real. That’s enough.”

The world may have known Tyrus as the loud voice on late-night panels or the hulking wrestler who danced in the ring. But the man who now walks quietly through his garden, reads history books in the early morning sun, and teaches his kids how to throw a football is a different kind of hero. Not one built by media, but one built by healing.

In a society obsessed with constant visibility, Tyrus has chosen absence. In a culture that values performance, he has chosen authenticity. And in an era where being “on” is the currency of success, he’s learning the worth of being still.

The real Tyrus isn’t gone—he’s finally home.