Kovacevic: Impossible to avoid confronting Roethlisberger's limitations

ORCHARD PARK, N.Y. -- It'd seemed the skies above this sleepy Buffalo suburb couldn't get any stranger on this Sunday night. Not after an early fog, thick as soup, formed as fast as it dissipated. Or after a swirl of snow stopped by as if to thumb its nose at forecasts universally calling for zero precipitation. Or after fireworks were launched from the stadium roof to entertain the 71,870 ... uh, empty blue seats on hand.

But there'd be one final stunner from up there, and it superseded them all.

Behold, my friends, the sight of the Steelers attempting to throw a football deep downfield: 

This was the fourth quarter. Final possession. Final play, as it'd unfurl, of the 26-15 loss to the Bills.

But within that, it also was the final chance. The final chance to pull within a single score, as the Steelers had done on their previous drive. And, infinitely more important in my mind, the final chance to achieve absolutely anything toward the broader aim of breaking this offense out of its two-yards-and-a-cloud-of-bust imprisonment.

The press box at Bills Stadium is perched in the corner of the end zone James Washington was hoping to reach. The video above doesn't illustrate this, but trust me when I share that he'd burst well beyond Buffalo corner Levi Wallace. And with all the air Ben Roethlisberger pumped under that throw, Washington would've worked his way under just about anything.

Except if it were short.

I won't do justice to the feeling of deflation that followed for me. I just won't. Because it had zip to do with Wallace winding up with a richly undeserved interception or what it'd instantly meant for the outcome. And it had everything to do with seeing the sad, sad trajectory of that throw, followed by the sadder-still sight of Washington needing to retrace his steps to try to bail out one of the greatest athletes in our city's history.

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I'm not here to bury Ben. 

I'm not here to blame him for anything, either. That'd be absurd. He remains the inarguable reason these Steelers are a still-superlative 11-2, are officially bound for the playoffs and still on track to take the AFC North. They don't sniff any of those without his smarts, his toughness, his determination and his dedication in recharging his batteries to return at age 38 from a major elbow surgery.

And I'll burnish that stance by burying and blaming the epic embarrassment that this running game has become. From the meek blocking up front, to James Conner's unending inability to stay on the field, to Benny Snell's uncanny ability to turn a 20-yard hole into a 2-yard gain, to the front office paying $3.2 million for a fullback who might as well be working the sticks and chains, to the coaching staff at some point in the past week pontificating, 'Man, it'd be awesome to see more Jaylen out there!' ... it's the worst I've witnessed this facet of football with this franchise in my lifetime.

I'm sick of citing the stats to support it. Here's my support:

See all those people standing upright when it's done?

That's my bury. That's my blame.

Not that I couldn't also spread that around to Diontae Johnson dropping the game's first pass, a simple screen, then being benched the rest of the half:

Not that I couldn't question whatever it was that Randy Fichtner could've been thinking when he conjured up this Brainiac-level beauty:

Not that I couldn't call out this behavior:

No, really, what the hell was that? And what's it say about all of these receivers -- notably exempting Washington -- that there's no football circumstance that ever seems to out-prioritize the endless public preening and posing.

One more time, then: Not burying Ben. Not blaming him.

But ...

But the coldest of all realities in this bigger scenario, the one in which the Steelers regain a course for the Super Bowl, is this: They can't do it with this Ben. And for that matter, they might not be able to do it with the Ben of this season's first few weeks.

All along, even after the most satisfying Ws, we've waited for the Ben we'd all come to expect. The one who'd be able to put the ball where he wants, how he wants and when he wants to. 

No one expected a twenty-something Ben pinballing off pass rushers or pushing plays to their limits. But it was both fair and reasonable, I'd say, to have envisioned that, eventually, he'd rediscover his comfort -- no, passion -- for throwing downfield.

He isn't doing that.

Still.

Early on, when he was overthrowing guys, he joked that his elbow surgeon did "too good a job," and it was genuinely funny. But now that he's overthrowing them, underthrowing them, circumventing them in other ways ... it couldn't be more painfully obvious that something's amiss.

Health?

Sure, that's got to be part of it. When Ben missed a week of practice because of COVID-19 contact tracing, he showed up for work that Sunday and fired BBs all afternoon in burning the Bengals for 333 yards on 47 passes. He then joked -- and this was funny, too -- that Mike Tomlin should keep giving him practices off, at least before turning serious and saying his arm really did feel better with all the rest.

The arm looks tired.

He looks tired.

A ridiculous report from CBS Sports, put out as part of the NFL's standard Sunday morning scoop-mania, suggested the Steelers have 'grave' concerns about the state of both of Ben's knees. For that to be remotely accurate, it'd have to show up on the team's weekly injury reports, and it hasn't been there for two weeks. Yeah, the NFL's busted the Steelers for lying on these previously, but it's a different beast when it's the quarterback. They'd bring the big hammer.

Oh, also, if the team had these 'grave' concerns, you'd better believe Fichtner wouldn't have tossed out that jab publicly last week about Ben needing to practice more often to help his receivers overcome their drops.

At the same time, he is 38. And, as I noticed more than once in this game, when he gets knocked down, it takes a little longer to get back up. On one such occasion, he sought Maurkice Pouncey's help, then flexed his right knee a half-dozen times on his slow path to the huddle.

Throwing a football is about so much more than the arm, as any quarterback as any level will attest. Watch Ben closely on the deeper balls to see how little he uses his lower body, sometimes not even coming set.

He flings. He flicks.

His first interception here, the crushing pick-6 near the end of the first half, wasn't deep, but it was another of those flings or flicks:

Watch it again, this time for feet.

Now watch it yet again, this time for the wobble along the way.

Now watch it once more, this time for how he ran in pursuit after the turnover.

At the same time, for full context, in the fourth quarter, Ben was the dominant element in a 10-play, 81-yard drive that culminated in a slick read to hit JuJu Smith-Schuster for the touchdown, then Ebron for the two-point conversion. As if to show everyone, in the most Ben way possible, that he's hanging in there.

To that end, though, he then met with us for a press call that walked a line between some semi-sarcastic self-deprecation and serious-sounding self-loathing.

When ESPN's Brooke Pryor asked Ben if some of his misfired throws could be attributed to a lack of communication with receivers or something else, Ben answered flatly and without a smile, "I'm just not very good, Brooke."

When our Dale Lolley asked Ben if he felt he can fix what ails the offense with only three weeks left in the regular season, Ben answered, still without a smile, "I hope so. If I don’t play good enough football, then I need to hang it up. But I still feel like I can do enough things to help this team win football games, and I’m going to do everything I can to get us back on track."

If anyone reading this can recall any prior occasion in which Ben even kidded about retiring, I'm all ears.

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The numbers are the numbers. As with the running game, I'm getting weary of them. They don't change.

In this game, Ben was 21-of-37 for 187 yards, two touchdowns and two picks.

Or, worded another way, Jordan Berry punted eight times for 318 yards, a span that, if magically connected, could carry one from here across the Peace Bridge to Canada.

It's not good enough. Not for what everyone associated with this operation has insisted all along has been the one, the only goal. The defense isn't what it was, wrecked by injuries to five starters on this night and two starters for the season. The offense, already wrecked by its own inefficiency, lost not one but two interior offensive linemen here in Matt Feiler and Kevin Dotson, maybe for good. Even the kicker's hobbled by a leg injury.

The safest quick-fix solution is, of course, a date with the Bengals. That box will be checked next Monday night.

Another solution would be a little more rest. A Monday nighter will help.

But ultimately, none of this will matter, least of all some hollow triumph in Cincinnati, if the Steelers don't dramatically improve either the running game or the passing downfield. And since I'm willing to go on record here -- indelible ink, mind you -- that the running game will stay in place, in both the literal and figurative senses, I'm looking instead to see Ben keep fishing.

Which, naturally, will require the robust backing of the head coach.

So, after this game, I asked Tomlin: What'll it take to at least try moving the ball downfield and, in addition to that, if the Steelers are purposely leery of doing so?

Basically, I can tell you, I wanted to see if he'd acknowledge in any form some lack of confidence in this area. Instead ...

"We have to win more possession downs and, thus, possess the ball more and give us more opportunities," he replied. "The more snaps you get, the more opportunities you get to make some of the dynamic plays you suggested. It starts first with staying on schedule and possessing the ball, and we aren't doing enough of that right now. That makes some of the other discussions more troublesome."

Going 1-for -10 on third downs is troublesome, all right. Losing a couple in a row when a contender should be heating up is troublesome, too. Realizing that any rebound will come on the increasingly creaky back of a quarterback who won't/can't throw past the sticks ... that's something else.