Kovacevic: Never underestimate Steelers' character, what it contributes

BALTIMORE -- "I was just trying to make a play. Last play. This is for the game. And I was just locked in on the ball, trying to attack it. It just felt like it'd be a bang-bang play and, in those situations, you just hope for the best."

He was trying. And he was hoping.

This wasn't Minkah Fitzpatrick talking, mind you. This was the other guy.

This was Willie Snead, the Ravens' wide receiver who'd run his route over the goal line, who'd positioned himself perfectly within Lamar Jackson's sights, who'd now await what would've been the most magical moment of his NFL career. A touchdown catch with no time on the clock. Over the Steelers, his franchise's archrival. Beating the last of the league's unbeatens.

But mere milliseconds before the ball's arrival, per Snead's own recollection and per the video evidence below, Minkah made a play on that same pass. And unlike Snead, he was neither trying nor hoping:

He was asserting.

"When I got hit, it just happened so quick. As soon as the ball touched my hands, I got hit," Snead continued. "It could have gone either way, to be honest."

No.

No, it couldn't have.

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There's so much to be spoken for these Steelers throughout this historic 7-0 start, even before they roared back to overtake the archrival Ravens, 28-24. They've alternately shown speed, skill, size, savvy, even a few surprising ceilings for youngsters, all the ingredients anyone would want toward contention.

But in these past three weeks, in particular, they've shown something else.

I've got a word for it, but it won't make the cut on this family-friendly site. Suffice it to say, this word rhymes with malls and maybe, maybe could be considered synonymous with possessing a massive amount of ... moxie?

Yeah, let's go with moxie.

Minkah makes a fine football play up there. Pristine timing. Playing the pass the entire time, counter to some petty complaints later from John Harbaugh. And by the time he gets there, the ball's his, plain and simple.

But fine football plays happen everywhere except New York. Here's what makes this one special for me:

Obnoxious, right? 

And if someone blew kisses after overpowering the Steelers in the same scenario, they'd be worth all the scorn in Western Pennsylvania, right? 

Wonderful. But anyone who partakes in professional sports, certainly those at the highest levels, will attest that one seldom occurs without the other. That a talented team can stay stuck in neutral forever without finding that vital overdrive, that extra edge that it takes to prevail over an opponent who's, you know, trying and hoping and thinking it could go either way.

Maybe it began with blowing out the Browns. Maybe it grew a bit with surviving the Titans' surge in Nashville. But wherever and however it took form, I'll be damned if it didn't go full-on butterfly in this of all places.

Anyone who cares to call this outcome "not very pretty," as Ben Roethlisberger did, or "ugly," as T.J. Watt did, or who'd unapologetically prioritize all that went awry, as Mike Tomlin did ... I get it. They're right. In isolation.

Heck, there isn't a single syllable of Tomlin's opening postgame statement with which I'd disagree: "I'm going to tell you what I told my team: We did not play well today. We lacked detail in a lot of areas. We can’t allow the emotions of the moment for us to miss that fact. I'm proud of these guys. I'm proud of the fight. I'm proud of how they supported one another. But it's important that we don’t lie to ourselves. We did not function well in a lot of ways today."

It'd be nuts to dispute that. The offense had 64 total yards at halftime. The defense was gashed for 265 rushing yards by an opponent missing its No. 1 running back, No. 1 left tackle and No. 1 guard.

But, with respect, I'll refer instead to this additional sentiment expressed by Tomlin: "Just so much respect to Baltimore. This rivalry is what it is. They bring the best out in us."

They really do. And they bring out the best, ironically, by bringing out the worst. By pushing the Steelers past what Tomlin often calls "comfort zones." The games are physical from the first snap, violent as soon as the second. Players get hurt. Players get ejected. And the scoreboard itself never lets up, seemingly boomeranging both sides back to within a handful of points anytime someone's a threat to pull away.

Sound familiar?

This edition dug a 10-point halftime hole that might, for a lesser group, have felt as gloom-and-doom as the gray skies overhead and the mud under their cleats. Plus they'd also lost Tyson Alualu, hitting them in the heart of their greatest strength, and they'd barely budged on offense.

Eric Ebron described this beautifully: "That first half, we came out with a game plan, and they punched us in the mouth. We had to make adjustments. That tells you, that shows you a good team. I’ve been a part of no adjustments. I’ve been a part of, throughout my career, things where we think we got it. We came out here, and we made the proper adjustments. We looked within ourselves, and we came out here and fought. We fought our asses off.”

Pardon the language. He clearly didn't get the moxie memo.

Others sure did, individually and collectively:

Moxie can take many forms, but the most obvious is relentless effort. No one exemplified that on this day quite like JuJu Smith-Schuster, and it wasn't just the above shove to set up a James Conner touchdown. He did it all afternoon.

"JuJu, some of his catches, from my visual perspective and from what I remember, he was caught short of the line a few times and plowed his way through guys," Ben recalled. "He has will and desire."

He might or might not be whatever constitutes a No. 1 receiver, but no one would doubt that. And when he delivers, no one would begrudge all the fun that follows: 

Awesome. Just awesome. There are bad wins elsewhere. Never in Baltimore.

Ben was dishing praise all round, notably for players partaking in what he openly called "playground" football. Meaning, to hear him tell it, he was verbally drawing up plays -- or redrawing, to be more precise -- right in the huddle or even right at the line by shouting out commands.

I couldn't believe my ears with this, as he'd never put it in such stark terms, and he didn't blink: "We threw a personnel group at them that we hadn't done much with before -- no backs, emptying things out -- and it just created defenses and opportunities for us."

Short version: He's right. The Ravens had all kinds of strange personnel on the field to try to counter the Steelers' 'big' formations that had Jaylen Samuels out at pseudo-wingback, two tight ends and so forth. And Ben poked away at will, with more major moxie from JuJu:

Anyone remember Ben confessing to being "nervous" and "jittery" at training camp?

Not anymore. Not when he's doing this stuff.

Moxie can take many forms, indeed, and can range from the oldest to the youngest:

Chase Claypool fumbled earlier in this game. Hurt the team. Might've hurt himself, too, if he'd allowed that. I wondered in the moment how he'd bounce back and, since he hasn't exactly faced much adversity in the NFL, I couldn't have been sure.

Five catches, two drawn pass interference flags and the above touchdown later, I was surer.

Between that and Alex Highsmith's huge interception, that's already a draft class exhibiting all kinds of moxie. And, as we've seen in recent winters with the Penguins and forever among all sports, it's next to impossible for teams to contend without some significant youth component.

Here's a wild one, caught on camera very much against everyone's wishes, I'm sure ...

TJ Watt and #steelers DC Keith Butler having a heated exchange of words on the sideline.pic.twitter.com/CnXGD7Rm1w

— NFL Update (@MySportsUpdate) November 1, 2020

I asked T.J. afterward what this was about.

"I think it’s just football," he replied without a flinch. "You kind of have those moments, and they're very candid moments on the sidelines. Everyone wants to be successful, and stuff like that just happens in football from time to time."

That's accurate. But imagine the status it takes to do that. And the culture that encourages such passion, because it's part of caring about the end result.

Then there's Robert Spillane ....

Showing any one play wouldn't do his performance-of-a-lifetime justice, as he'd total a team-high 11 tackles, a pick-six interception, two passes defensed, a tackle for a loss and a fumble recovery.

No, this does it justice:

Few achievements are held in higher regard in the football culture than players making it who weren't supposed to make it.

Spillane's career path is such that, within hours of all this, his employers would trade for a linebacker -- Avery Williamson from the Jets -- who'll eventually take some or most of his snaps. But betting against Spillane, to see and hear how much his teammates love him, would be betting against the house.

Don't do that. Don't bet against them.

When Vince Williams had his snaps slashed in 2019, he didn't pout, though I can tell you here he wasn't happy about it. He stepped up and took over his position and, on this day, popped Jackson to force a massive fumble.

When James Conner had his conditioning, maybe even his commitment questioned after falling apart so often in 2019, he jutted out that jaw and did what we're witnessing now.

When Stephon Tuitt faced some of the same, he responded with the same.

When Bud Dupree was being branded the next Jarvis Jones, mostly because he kept getting dropped into pass coverage, his answer was to become not just a beast on the pass rush but to become complete beyond what any of us could've foreseen.

When Chris Boswell was written off by everyone outside the Boswell household, and maybe even then his cat had quit on him ...

I could do this all day, but just one more.

When Minkah was asked just this past Friday by a reporter if he was playing up to his own expectations, he bristled a bit, responded diplomatically -- "I'm not at the level I need to be" -- but then really responded once that ball came his way.

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The roster's loaded with this. The room's loaded with this. They know they're good. They know their teammates are good. They know their team is good.

To see and hear them ... actually, that's what this is really about, isn't it?

I mean, what percentage of performance in any walk of life is intangible, is founded in faith and confidence and ... moxie?

Ebron brings a lot of that, too, and I shouldn't have left him out of all those examples. He's running the right routes, he's making combat-type catches, and he had an 18-yard touchdown on this day. But he's also become beloved within the Steelers' world for that vocal strut, that visible swagger.

See him, but hear him, too.

"All right, I'm going to tell you this about my friends," Ebron playfully began through a Zoom apparatus that might now need its decibel levels recalibrated. "Day in and day out, I kept hearing, 'If y'all beat the Ravens, y'all really are legit.' And these are my friends! And I’m like, ‘But we went 6-0! How are we not legit right now?’ So, now that we beat the Ravens, more people understand that we’re legit, and that we’re coming with our A-game every single time. That’s the players we have in this locker room. That’s the kind of team we have. That’s the kind of coaching staff we have. We look adversity in the face, and we attack it. That’s why we came out victorious.”

He started to rise from the Zoom table, but then poked his head back into camera range and shouted, "SEVEN-AND-OH, BABY!"

The man was neither trying nor hoping.