ACTOR ERIC WINTER ON: RISKS, REWARDS, RUM + THE ROOKIE!
- 13 hours ago
- 5 min read
BY: COREY GUEVARRA, EDITOR IN CHIEF
PHOTOGRAPHY: DYLAN PERLOT FOR EXCLUSIVE ARTISTS
WARDROBE: ESTELLE APORONGAO FOR EXCLUSIVE ARTISTS
GROOMING: STEPHANIE LOCKWOOD FOR EXCLUSIVE ARTISTS
There’s a version of this story where Eric Winter becomes a doctor. It’s not far-fetched. In fact, for a while, it was the plan. Raised in Los Angeles, Winter was deep into his pre-med track at UCLA, studying psychobiology, focused, disciplined, moving toward a future that felt structured and certain. Medicine—specifically sports medicine—was the goal. And then, almost casually, everything shifted.
A suggestion. A few photos. A connection made through someone he was dating at the time. “It was one of those moments where you just kind of go, ‘Alright… sure,’” he says. That “sure” turned into a Tommy Hilfiger campaign—an unexpected entry point into an entirely different world. One that moved quickly. One that opened doors. And just like that, the trajectory changed. “I had to pull out of school for a bit,” he says. “I was traveling, working… it just became something I had to explore.” And suddenly what could have been a detour became a destined foundation.
THE MAN BEHIND THE IMAGE
Spend a few minutes talking to Eric Winter, and one thing becomes clear, unlike his popular characters: he doesn’t spend his time taking life too seriously. “I’m kind of a clown,” he exclaims, laughing. “I like to make fun of myself, talk trash, keep things light.” It’s a stark contrast to many of the roles he’s played over the years—authority figures, romantic leads, characters with an edge. And most notably, Tim Bradford on The Rookie—a no-nonsense training officer known for his intensity, discipline, and emotional restraint. But that contrast is exactly the point. “I’ve played the jerk, the tough guy, the romantic lead,” he says. “But at my core, I’m just… different than a lot of them.” That duality—the ability to hold both structure and levity—is part of what’s made his career so dynamic. And it’s something he’s still exploring. “I’d love to do a big comedy,” he says. “Really lean into that side of myself.”
PROVING THEM WRONG
When Winter first stepped into the audition room for The Rookie, not everyone was convinced. In fact, most people weren’t. “I was told by a lot of people that I wasn’t right for it,” he says. “Too nice. Not enough edge.” It’s the kind of note that could stop someone in their tracks. Instead, he used it. “I just thought, alright—then I’m going to show you something completely different.” What happened next has the feel of something cinematic. He walked into the room, didn’t greet anyone, didn’t soften his presence. Performed the scene. And when it was over, he tossed the sides in the trash and walked out. “They came out after me like, ‘Are you okay?’” he laughs. “I was like, yeah guys… it’s acting.” “It felt bigger than me. Like I wasn’t even myself anymore.” It worked. Not just in landing the role—but in unlocking something deeper. Bradford wasn’t just another character. He was a challenge. A departure. A chance to explore a version of himself that didn’t exist on the surface. And over time, that exploration evolved.
THE EVOLUTION OF TIM BRADFORD
Eight seasons in, Tim Bradford is no longer the same man audiences first met. The rigid exterior has softened. The walls have come down—just enough to reveal something more human underneath. “There’s still that intensity,” Winter says. “He’s still tough on rookies. But now you’re seeing a different side of him.” A leader, not just an enforcer. A partner, not just a protector. A man learning, in real time, how to balance strength with vulnerability. And that evolution mirrors something happening off-screen too. “Early on, there wasn’t much of me in him,” Winter says. “Now… there’s a little more crossover.”
THE SECRET TO STAYING POWER
In a television landscape where shows come and go quickly, The Rookie has done something rare: it’s lasted. Not just survived—but. built a loyal, deeply invested audience along the way. Ask Winter why, and he doesn’t hesitate. “It’s the characters,” he says. “It’s the relationships.” Yes, there’s action. Yes, there are cases. But what keeps people coming back is something else entirely. “We’re a character-driven procedural,” he explains. “You’re not just watching what happens—you’re watching how it affects people. How they grow, how they connect.” Over time, those connections—both on-screen and off—have created something harder to define, but easy to feel. A sense of camaraderie. Of continuity. Of something real. “There’s a kind of lightning in a bottle,” he says. “And you can’t manufacture that.”
A LIFE BEYOND THE INDUSTRY
For Winter, one of the most defining choices he’s made has nothing to do with a role. It’s how he sees the work itself. “I love acting. It’s a passion. But it’s not who I am.” It’s a distinction he’s held onto from the beginning—and one that’s kept him grounded in an industry built on perception. “I know who I am as a father, a husband, a friend,” he says. “That’s what I hold onto.” Because the reality is, in this business, everything can change—quickly. Success, visibility, opportunity—they ebb and flow. So instead of chasing the highs or fearing the lows, he’s learned something else: Stay steady. “Don’t ride it too much either way,” he says. “Just stay true to yourself.”
EXPANDING THE PLAYBOOK
These days, Winter isn’t just thinking like an actor. He’s thinking like a builder. With the launch of Palm Republic, his premium rum brand, he’s stepped fully into the world of entrepreneurship—bringing the same curiosity and intention that’s guided his career into something entirely new. It started with a personal connection. A trip to Puerto Rico. A conversation with his future father-in-law. A glass of aged rum that challenged everything he thought he knew about the spirit. “It completely changed my perspective,” he says. What followed was years of exploration—traveling, tasting, learning—before eventually deciding to build something of his own. “I wanted to create something that felt fresh,” he says. “A new energy around it.” The process has been different. More hands-on. More uncertain. And exactly what he was looking for. “It’s a whole different mindset,” he says. “You’re building something from the ground up.”
A NORTH STAR
Reflecting on his journey, Winter's advice to his younger self is a singular, potent word: "Patience." He acknowledges his past impatience, a byproduct of his sports background where effort directly correlated with results. The entertainment industry, he learned, operates differently, demanding a confluence of "opportunity and luck and hard work all aligning." His biggest professional risk, he reveals, was leaving the comfort of a soap opera to pursue broader acting opportunities, a decision to "bank on myself" that, despite initial challenges, ultimately paid off.
If there’s one thread that runs through everything—his career, his choices, his evolution now—it’s this: Clarity. Not about where everything is going. But about what matters. “My family is my North Star,” he says. “It’s what drives me to be better.” It’s also what keeps everything else in perspective. The roles. The risks. The recognition. All of it matters. But none of it defines him.
HIS REAL DEFINITION OF LUXURY
Ask Eric Winter what luxury means, and he doesn’t talk about status, or things; He talks about time. “Being able to come home and put my kids to bed,” he says. “That’s luxury to me.” It’s a simple answer—but one that carries weight. Because in an industry that often pulls people away—from home, from routine, from the moments that matter most—he’s found a version of success that looks different. Filming in Los Angeles. Being present. Not missing the in-betweens. “It’s priceless,” he says. Priceless!
