Kovacevic: Why Minkah now? Hey, why not? taken at Rooney Complex (DK'S GRIND)

MATT SUNDAY / DKPS

What, were they supposed to cancel the charter to San Francisco?

Look, I'm not a believer in the 2019 Steelers, either. Not anymore. Not after the 0-2 start. Not after they've failed to find any semblance of identity. Certainly not after seeing the franchise quarterback lost, soon to be supplanted by a kid making his first NFL start.

But I'm even less of a believer in shutting down shop.

So when word hit late Monday night that the local club had come out on top of the Minkah Fitzpatrick sweepstakes -- acquiring him in a trade that sent the Dolphins their first-round pick in the 2020 NFL Draft -- my first reaction was one that basically mimicked, of all things, that oft-used Ben Roethlisberger meme:

And my second reaction was almost as simple: Well of course they did. Because that's how they lace 'em up, from Art Rooney II right down the ladder: Every season represents a chance to win a championship, and any rebuilding is required to take place in the offseason, not once the football flies. And any notion that they should fear having just given up a top-10 pick -- you know, winning six or fewer games in 2019 -- wow, I wouldn't want people like that running my favorite team.

My third reaction, though, was the one that really resonated: This is a good trade regardless.

Fitzpatrick's only 22. He was the No. 11 overall pick a year ago, and he was a regular, effective, occasionally dynamic rookie for the Dolphins after that with 11 starts, 80 tackles, nine passes defended and two picks:

He was bounced from position to position by new coach Brian Flores to account for the Dolphins' countless shortcomings, prompting Fitzpatrick to demand a trade after that 59-10 opening slaughter by the Ravens. He and his agent, Joel Segal, were granted permission to try to work out a trade, 20-plus teams reached out, and the Steelers pulled the longest straw.

Awesome.

This secondary needs help. Not just now. Next year. Year after that when Joe Haden's gone. And it doesn't need help at any one spot but at all of them. That's been exposed yet again by Tom Brady and Russell Wilson picking apart every blade of grass beyond a linebacker these past two games and, in the process, I think, unfairly stunting both Devin Bush and Terrell Edmunds.

Put it another way: If the Steelers would've wound up with the No. 11 overall pick next year, who'd have objected if they'd have targeted a corner?

Wait, no, that's not how I wanted to word that. Let me try again: Who'd have objected, given the miserable history between Kevin Colbert and Mike Tomlin of uncovering corners with high picks, if they'd mythically invest that pick in a legit talent with an NFL year of experience and film to his name but still at draft age?

The Steelers sent the strongest conceivable signal that they'll compete toward 2019, that they believe in Mason Rudolph, that they value their veterans, that they can overcome this start to contend for a playoff spot. That's nice.

They made a trade that bodes well now, bodes better for the future. That's nicer.

• I'll take Fitzpatrick at slot corner, please. For one, it's his preferred position, as I'm positive the Steelers would've already discussed with his agent. For another, it'll minimize both Mike Hilton and Cam Sutton, neither having achieved much to date. For yet another, it'll help cut off those crossing routes that have exposed the defense in the ugliest way at times.

More will be known about this when Tomlin speaks at noon. Obviously.

• It might be known, too, who gets the call for the cut. I nominate Donte Moncrief. Twice. The second time just in case the signal drops.

• "How about Mason, huh?"

That wasn't some after-the-fact sell job. That was David DeCastro, late Sunday afternoon at Heinz Field, when I'd asked if there'd been anything, anything positive to take from the 28-26 loss to the Seahawks. So yeah, it was before Ben Roethlisberger was formally lost, before Rudolph was forced into leading the offense for the foreseeable future.

"I mean, he comes out onto the field, and he just takes charge," DeCastro continued. "Tough situation, tight game, he's ice cold, and he comes out for the first time, and he's the one booming at us. You know what I'm saying?"

I did, actually. In the summer of 2018, a week after Rudolph was drafted, I watched this kid sprint out onto another field, at the Rooney Complex. It was rookie minicamp, the first chance for the new class of prospects to impress but also, in an unwritten way, to know their place. It's an odd mix. Everyone wants to see confidence without cockiness, passion and joy without any silliness.

Not many pull it off.

"This guy? Right away, man. Right away," James Washington was recalling for me, not long after that. Those two were teammates, of course, at Oklahoma State. "Mason's been that way forever. When he goes into that huddle, you hear his voice. Loud and clear. He's in charge. It's his huddle."

It really is his huddle now. And believe it or not, his voice, quite literally, will have a lot to do with that.

"He's got that big, deep voice where he just commands your attention," DeCastro kept on about the Sunday sequence. "That maybe surprised us some when he first got here, but we've gotten to know him and respect him, so we're not surprised by anything he does anymore. And you ask any football player, they love it when a quarterback takes over like that. I know we love it."

I share all this, though, not to build up Rudolph but more to take him down in a way. Ideally to take down by a notch or two the extreme expectations I'm fearing are going to follow him out onto his next field Sunday in Santa Clara. We're from the town where the football fans will front-load judgment on a third-string quarterback after his first misfire in the annual Charlotte exhibition, so I can't even imagine what it'll be like if Rudolph has some rookie struggles against the 49ers.

He's been here more than a calendar year, but he's as rookie as rookie gets. Moreover, even with his fine debut -- 12 of 19, 112 yards, two touchdowns, totally bogus interception -- he'll be making his first NFL start. Road stadium. Undefeated opponent. And the weight of a winless team to carry.

In the social media era, everyone Rudolph's age sees and hears all. It's not an accident that he tweeted this out Monday after the Ben news:

He wants everyone on his side. Here's hoping Pittsburgh comes through.

• There's this, too: He's going to need his space for these Steelers to totally become his team.

Not to sound insensitive to Roethlisberger needing surgery and having to miss nearly a full season of the game he loves, but it'd be best if he's available while not all that visible. Meaning be around for Rudolph to answer questions, occasionally to advise, maybe even on the sideline during games. But otherwise, steer clear. Ben's presence on campus is larger than life. Always will be. And it won't feel like there's just that one offensive leader until that's Rudolph's domain.

• Remember when Ben took a public jab at the Steelers for investing a third-round pick in Rudolph, saying he wished they'd have taken a linebacker to help right away?

Yeah, about that.

This could be Exhibit A for why even the most prominent professional athletes should never be too influential in personnel decisions.

• Who looks at this schedule and sees just six wins?

Not from this view. I'm not seeing playoffs, but I'm also not seeing disaster.

• No chance Ben's done. None. Not to suggest it's entirely about the money, but he can collect as much as $68 million on the final two seasons of his extension, and $37.5 million of that's guaranteed. Beyond that, the drive, the passion to play has been as strong with him in 2019 as I'd ever seen it. Save the career eulogies. He'll be back.

• I write this a lot regarding pitchers and Tommy John, but there's no injury quite like it. One minute, you're on top of the world. The next, everything an athlete's worked to achieve, no matter who they are, no matter their peak ... it's gone. I've spoken quite a bit this summer with the Pirates' Chad Kuhl, who's recovering from his own such surgery, and he's acknowledged the mental toll is by far the hardest. The days are tedious, the victories along the way terribly small, and the loss of teammates' camaraderie and support ... I can't even fathom.

• Yes, the Pirates are still playing. No, they didn't give up double-digit runs yesterday. Because they were off.

• Oh, the luck of Frank Coonelly, Neal Huntington and Kyle Stark that the Steelers are stealing all the local headlines while their opponent and even the governing body of their sport were essentially laughing at them:

I'm half-expecting at this stage for Bob Nutting to start trolling his own team on Twitter.

• Huntington, to reporters at Wrigley Field over the weekend: “Our middle relief, again, has struggled, and that’s why we have so many double-digit runs allowed games. It’s the weakest part of any team, and it’s been a real challenge for us this year… Part of that’s on me for the selection of who's here.”

Part?

• Don't dare call the Pirates an embarrassment. At least not as it relates to those guys getting embarrassed. That's not in their genes. They're just geniuses waiting for their next moment of glory, and we're all dummies wallowing in the interlude.

• In the spirit of fairness, I'm compelled -- and delighted -- to underscore that, for all this team's failings at drafting and developing, Kevin Newman's become a grand exception. And good for him and them. He's slashing .318/.364/.453 for an .817 OPS that's fourth among National League shortstops with 110-plus games. He's also played sound defense, run the bases well and blossomed into a fine general presence on and off the field.

• The shortstop just behind Newman in OPS is Manny Machado at .794. Machado's making $30 million this year in San Diego, or nearly 60 times Newman's salary of $557,500.

Draft and develop just a handful of Newmans, and payroll's not quite the same obstacle, is it?

Mike Sullivan's trying Brandon Tanev on the Penguins' No. 2 line alongside Evgeni Malkin and Alex Galchenyuk. And that, in a vacuum, looks weird, since Tanev, in spite of the 13 goals he popped in Winnipeg last winter, isn't super-slick with the hands. He belongs, again in a vacuum, on a fourth line.

But hockey isn't played in a Hoover. And one facet of Sullivan's line construction I've always liked is that he and his assistants sort them first as pairings, then find a third player to round it out. For example, they'll determine first that Sidney Crosby and Jake Guentzel go together -- duh -- then combine Malkin and Galchenyuk, then seek out complements.

In that context, Tanev's straight-line speed and first-on-the-forecheck approach could create legit space for Malkin. Remember, he's always loved having that Carl Hagelin, Pascal Dupuis or Ruslan Fedotenko to drive that wedge into the attacking zone, after which he'll pounce.

• Instead, though, half of everyone will moan about who or what constitutes a 'top-six forward,' as if that designation matters in the slightest. Third lines stopped being checking lines at the turn of the century. It's like baseball fans who still discuss an 'ace.' Starters barely survive six innings anymore, so there probably aren't a handful of aces in the entirety of the majors.

Put the lines together that work best together. Don't worry about labels.

• On that note, I had a good talk with Dominik Simon up in Cranberry about shedding his own label, meaning the very fair criticism that he doesn't score enough. Because, for as much as Crosby and other linemates love having his smarts and support on the ice with them, there's still a stigma attached -- including internally -- if one doesn't put the puck in the net.

So he spent the summer shooting pucks. Buckets of pucks. Then he'd fill up the buckets anew and fire anew.

"I've always been able to score, and I always feel like I've had a good shot," Simon was telling me. "But since I've been in the NHL, I don't shoot so much, and I just haven't been as good with my chances as I need to be."

When I recommended, half-kiddingly, that he should do nothing but shoot all through camp, he replied without a laugh, "No way. That's not me. Not my game."

• Want actual camp battles?

Try Juuso Riikola vs. Jack Johnson. That's a No. 6 vs. No. 7 battle on the blue line, not to mention a possible push for Jim Rutherford to try harder to move Johnson's contract, even if that means paying a portion of his $3.5 million salary.

Better yet, if further under the radar, how about my skinny dude Adam Johnson, who whipped this one home last night at Penn State:

He still looks emaciated. Like, two of his legs equals one of Marcus Pettersson's, and the latter walks on twigs. But he's got three traits these Penguins should covet in speed, skill and youth, and I could see that -- if not right away, then soon -- beating out a couple players who'll make the NHL roster ahead of him.

• Heading to PNC Park today. Never done an actual head count for attendance. Might make it a first.

Thanks for reading, as always.

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