Heather Pocic is used to packing boxes.

For nearly a decade, her family’s life has followed the rhythm of the NFL. Moving trucks have carried them from Baton Rouge to Seattle to Cleveland, as her husband, Ethan, has built a career that has stretched into its remarkable 10th season.

Every address has felt temporary; every home has felt fleeting. NFL players have a saying, Heather says. The league stands for “Not For Long.”

“Being in the NFL, you have this life where you’re not in control,” she says. “They could call you on a Tuesday and just say, ‘Hey, you’ve been traded to this other team.’”

These boxes, though? They finally have somewhere to stay. The Pocics have built a new house in Baton Rouge that’s worthy of the title “forever home.”

This house was never meant to change the reality of the NFL. This summer, in fact, Ethan signed as a center with the Baltimore Ravens. Instead, the family’s new home offers something the Pocics have spent years praying for: a place waiting for them when football is over. A long-term landing space, regardless of where Ethan’s career takes him next.

Step inside the front door of the home, and a sweeping glass staircase by Superior Design & Fabrication catches the light. A suspended groin vault ceiling, designed by Archways & Ceilings and gold-leafed by hand by artist Jade Templet, glimmers overhead.

It’s a showstopper. But as grand as the entrance is, it still couldn’t prepare guests for all the unexpected moments ahead. This is a house full of secret spaces, like something out of a children’s fairy tale. Push against what appears to be a mirrored wall, and the clever illusion by M&M Glass Company quietly gives way to a hidden speakeasy. Beyond the primary suite, a secluded serenity garden murmurs with the sound of a bubbling fountain. There’s even a dog room tucked away under the staircase for their energetic Weimaraner, Sadie.

Outside, the Pocics’ three children are living their best lives. They dart barefoot between the pool and the backyard. The boys have recently declared the property “Frog City,” proudly collecting tiny froglings before their mom reminds them it’s time to set them free. Sadie bounds through the grass beside them, with seemingly endless room to roam.

This house rewards curiosity. Every room quietly invites guests to wonder what’s around the next bend. Like a game of hide-and-seek, it’s the kind of space that keeps childhood alive.

Heather envisioned a home just as timeless and traditional as it is playful. Her architect, Hollingsworth Design, along with designer Jeff Taaffe, took those ideas and transformed them into something she says surpassed anything she and Ethan could have imagined.

“Watching Jeff draw up each room took my breath away every time,” Heather says.

It took leaving Louisiana for Heather to understand what she wanted to bring back. She’s been an LSU fan since preschool. She attended LSU Laboratory School and later earned her degree through LSU Health New Orleans School of Nursing.

“I couldn’t imagine myself living anywhere but Louisiana, specifically Baton Rouge,” she says.
“Until you get out of Louisiana, you don’t know how good you have it.”

Years spent living around the country only reinforced that feeling. Heather always carried pieces of home with her, making gumbo for neighbors, coworkers and teammates who had never tasted it before.

“I just love giving some Cajun culture to other people who’ve never had it,” she says.

And now, her hometown heritage colors every corner of her house. Her grandmother’s blue-and-white china, collected over generations, glows inside illuminated cabinetry in the formal dining room. The speakeasy’s walls are painted Benjamin Moore’s “Amazon Soil,” a plum shade that nods to LSU. The sprawling outdoor kitchen practically begs for watching football on Saturdays.

Somewhere in the kitchen, another pot of gumbo will likely be simmering, waiting for whoever happens to wander in hungry.

This is a place for gathering. In the living room, a giant sectional disappears beneath guests. Heather wanted the biggest couch she could find, sprawling seating for cousins, friends and neighbors.

Outside, kids splash in the pool. Upstairs, sleepovers unfold over hours of watching episodes of Danny Go, playing with Barbies or having dance parties.

In the home gym, Ethan works through recovery routines before teaching the kids proper form with tiny dumbbells.

Most meals are served not in the formal dining room, but in the kitchen. An enormous U-shaped island boasts seating for nearly 14 people. Breakfast happens here. But homework does too. Weeknight dinners stretch into long conversations hours after the plates have been cleared.

Accordion doors open the living room up onto an expansive screened patio with an outdoor kitchen, where Heather grills several nights a week.

“We just want this house to be a home,” Heather says. “Not just to our family, but to other family members or families.”

Because for about a decade, NFL schedules have meant holidays spent away from extended family. Now, she’s built a space she hopes her family will flock to for decades worth of holidays to come.

She pictures her grandchildren here one day. They’ll crowd around the kitchen island for pancakes before racing outside to catch frogs in the backyard. Football Saturdays will spill onto the patio. Upstairs, another generation will learn every secret passage by heart.

After years of packing boxes, Heather is finally unpacking them. For good.

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