The Patriots went to Donald Trump’s White House on Wednesday for a visit that seemed fraught with controversy from the moment the team sealed its Super Bowl comeback against the Falcons. There were questions about who would and would not attend the event, and for what reasons. There was talk about the close relationship between the president and Robert Kraft, Bill Belichick and Tom Brady. And there was just the thought of Trump and the Patriots sharing the South Lawn stage together, providing a visual nightmare to the millions of Americans who despise them both. It didn’t seem like the typical fun, lighthearted sports team trip to the White House – and that was before we learned the news early on Wednesday morning that a former team-mate killed himself in his Massachusetts prison cell.

The media debated whether the Patriots should postpone their trip. Tom Brady backed out at the last minute. Everything was awful, and there was no way around it. The day was ruined. But then Rob Gronkowski poked his face into Sean Spicer’s press briefing, said “Need some help?” and everyone had a good laugh. The show would go on. Sports were fun again. Because sports have the man called Gronk.

Rob Gronkowski is probably the NFL’s best tight end. He is undisputably the league’s greatest marketer and most unimpeachable brand.

The NFL has its other branded players. For example, everything said, done, posted and thought by Russell Wilson and JJ Watt comes off as though it’s been vetted by 12 focus groups and a panel of marketing experts on call 24 hours a day for any image or hashtag emergencies. There’s a desperation to that kind of self-marketing. Even the most charitable of deeds can come off secondary to the greater branding initiative.

Now watch Rob Gronkowski catch, drink and spike a beer.

Rob Gronkowski can catch. Rob Gronkowski likes beer. Rob Gronkowski spikes things. That’s as on-brand and as authentic as you can get.

But thinking the Patriots star is nothing more than a fun-loving, beer-guzzling, meathead does even someone called “Gronk” a disservice. At the very least, Gronkowski is in on the joke and knows enough to surround himself with people who will make sure the Gronk brand keeps a perfect 100% rating (or a perfect 69% rating in the Gronk world). A professional athlete with his track record of production can’t survive on beer alone. Look at his abs – and he’ll gladly show you if you ask. That six-pack is not produced by six packs.

Two years ago as he was ascending to his full Gronkness following New England’s victory over the Seahawks in Super Bowl XLIX, Gronkowski attended the Players’ Tribune launch party. Outside, on the red carpet where the cameras were, he was in full Gronk mode, flexing and engaging in general Gronkery. But later on the inside, away from the cameras, he sat off to the side and sipped a light beer while looking at his phone. He wasn’t swinging from chandeliers or downing shots; he was texting and checking Twitter, just like you or I might do at a party in which we don’t know a lot of people.

The same sedate Gronk was on display on his Gronk Party Cruise last winter. The cruise’s promotional materials hyped it up big: “It’s time to party, it’s time to rock, but more importantly, it’s time to get Gronk’d! Rob Gronkowski and his family want you to grab your sunnies, your swimsuits, your babes and your bros for one hell of a shindig sailing down the coast. It’s time to go big or go home, cos we’re throwing the three-day party you’ve always dreamed of.”

What promised to be a modern bacchanalia at best or, as some feared, the party boat of a young Ben Roethlisberger’s dreams at worst, turned out to be just … kind of fun. Gronk did his Gronk thing when scheduled on the itinerary, but it was mostly just a chill event on the high seas. An ESPNW writer gave the cruise a thumbs-up despite expecting the whole thing to be quite problematic.

Rob Gronkowski is real. Gronk is at least partly an act. It has to be. He’s too good at football to be doing it all on fumes from staying out until 6am every night. Double-digit touchdowns in five of his seven NFL seasons and unquestionably the best tight end in the game when healthy. People love the man-child – or, more accurately: man-frat boy – persona because he’s given us no reason not to.

Johnny Manziel didn’t drink for the cameras. He drank to drink. He also didn’t produce on the field and got in constant trouble off of it. Gronkowski is no Manziel. He’s an NFL force and has never been in a whiff of trouble. In fact, among Patriots stars, the beer-spiking Gronk might be the most clean-cut. He’s never had his bodyguards get convicted of attempted murder like Tom Brady. He’s never popped up on Tinder while taking a post-coital nap like Julian Edelman. He’s never been implicated in any of the team’s cheating scandals. As far as we all know, Gronk is as good of a guy as he is a football player.

So is his Gronk persona a bit of an act? Sure. Is it possible his agent or his brand manager told him it would be funny and great for his image if he poked his head into Spicer’s press conference and said: “Need some help?” Yes.

But no one cares. Gronkowski’s image, whether 99% or 69% manufactured, works. Even Patriots haters don’t dislike the guy. He’s good and fun and harmless. Rob Gronkowski is as wholesome and American as apple schnapps.