Happen to catch the chest-pounding Mike Tomlin had been doing of late?
No, like, literal chest-pounding:
GETTY
Uh-huh, that. He'd be flanked by Aaron Rodgers and Cam Heyward, strutting out of that stadium after the Steelers would win wherever, seeking out the Towel-waving types up in the seats, and the pounding would follow. Often with two fists and an accompanying shout. Always with a face of defiance, of fearlessness.
Know when he should be doing that?
Yeah, how about maybe when he's walking into that stadium?
My friends, there was so much that was so spectacularly stomach-turning about that 13-6 loss to the Browns today here at Huntington Bank Field that I'm having a hard time summoning up a start. But in the same breath, I'm comfortable saying that it's not about setting that three-game surge -- and all the related warm-and-fuzzy -- on figurative fire. And that it's not about now being forced to face off with the Ravens in a one-and-done next weekend back home. And that it's not about discarding a precious week for potential recovery in a generally limping locker room.
Not really. Not when compared to this:
DEJAN KOVACEVIC / DKPS
Look familiar?
It shouldn't. Because that's the recently re-sodded vertical middle of the field. I snapped it a few minutes after the clock expired, if only to ensure it'd ever existed at all.
Here's my truth about this 9-7 team right now, and why, in this place on this day, I lost any faith for anything that might or might not occur beyond next weekend: No athletic entity, whether a group or an individual, can win scared.
This team plays scared. And that, I'm more convinced than ever, is because this head coach conducts this team in a way that's scared.
All afternoon long, against a Cleveland opponent that, befitting its putrid history, had entered this event 3-12, in last place, bracing to fire everyone and all that other stuff the citizens up here can now hold as a holiday tradition like any other ... the Steelers' offense tiptoed to the sidelines when passing. And threw sideways when passing. And seldom allowed a target -- whether wide receiver, tight end or running back -- to so much as set foot on that fresh sod. Entire drives would come and go without a solitary set of spikes making contact. Including, amusingly, those of the Browns, since they knew they needn't cover there.
OK, so if it didn't look familiar, does that at least sound familiar?
Oh, it most certainly should.
Because this isn't about Arthur Smith, I can assure you, as he's forever feasted off the middle of the field, including in how he's preferred his offensive rosters to be constructed. One doesn't load up on tight ends and big-boy formations because one prioritizes being cute. One doesn't forge a reputation on bully-ball because one can't wait to see how Jonnu Smith might tip-toe through a lateral screen. One would rather see this:
CBS SPORTS
This also isn't about Aaron Rodgers, who's a first-ballot Hall of Famer and one of the most decorated and dynamic throwers of the oblong spheroid in history, in large part because he can stick a dagger in any defense ... directly into the heart of it. He'd rather see this:
CBS SPORTS
Crazy how Cleveland had all those orange helmets in the area, and Rodgers and Pat Freiermuth still beat them all, allowing the Steelers one last chance to tie.
Those are football plays. Unapologetic. Unafraid.
Not the other nonsense that was seen on only about 95% of the Steelers' offensive snaps here, leading into Rodgers needing 39 throws to whip up 168 whole yards. Like this:
CBS SPORTS
That's Tomlin. That's all Tomlin.
If anyone might doubt that, including doubting my own discussions with people on the inside on this topic, allow me, please, to pose these questions: How does any of the above differ from what was seen under Matt Canada? Or even the brief period under Eddie Faulkner and Mike Sullivan? Or, for that matter, under any of the various quarterbacks who've followed Ben Roethlisberger and who've been instructed, especially against certain defenses for whom Tomlin tends to carry an extra measure of respect, to avoid the middle of the field at any cost?
Only the names have changed. That one facet hasn't.
Tomlin's even acknowledged it at times, though not on either of the two occasions I've brought it up this season. And he's done so in a way that simultaneously lauds the opponent's defense, with a near-reverence for the safeties, and a worry that interceptions will define the game.
Well, they might. But so might outright passivity, which is how this tends to play out.
Some data: The Steelers rank 21st in the NFL in throwing to the middle of the field -- between the numbers -- in going there 19.2% of the time. But even most of those are the equivalent of gimme putts, in that their average depth of target is 5.9 yards, the shortest in the league, with no other team below 6.2.
That's not a rookie Kenny Pickett out there anymore. That's a living legend. And it all still applies. Safe, safe, safe. Sideways, sideways, sideways. Or, on those rare deep routes, sidelines, sidelines, sidelines.
What'd everyone think of that fourth-and-1 heave to Scotty Miller, for crying out loud?
CBS SPORTS
Beyond absurd.
Miller was a great sport when I sought him out on this, though:
Hardly his fault. On top of all else, Rodgers overthrew it.
Neither Tomlin nor Rodgers could come close to justifying the call. The coach would say of his quarterback, "He certainly had options, and that was one of them." And the quarterback would say of it only this: "One-on-one."
Fine. So it's one-on-one. But glance back up at the previous image and ask why Miller, an experienced and sophisticated route-runner, couldn't have made a cut and broken away from Cleveland's Tyson Campbell. Or why Rodgers couldn't have tossed right in front of him to Adam Thielen on a rare crossing route.
My own answer, since they also seem to treat this like talking about 'Fight Club:' Most everything's drawn up this way, meaning straight lines, meaning parallel to the sidelines, meaning that even someone like Thielen finds grass in the middle, the quarterback's priority -- and, of course, the eyes -- are already at the edges.
I hate this. A lot.
I hate it more than the loss. More than the repercussions. More, even, than what it represents toward the franchise's future for as long as all this stays in place.
In the interim, keep any and all outward bravado from the architect in the proper context.
• Can't stress this strongly enough: The playcalling itself was poor at the coordinator level. The quarterbacking was just as poor, as Rodgers demonstrated through 18 incompletions, some of them way off, and two more sacks. All of these things can be -- and are -- true. My focus is on Tomlin because he's the one constant among countless variables with this offense.
• Another Rodgers problem: He'll really play favorites with his guys, to the extreme that he won't recognize that wide receivers age differently than quarterbacks. If it's possible, targeting Marquez Valdes-Scantling nine times to achieve three whole completions -- two, really, if you disregard one he didn't catch, but the Browns never reviewed -- for 21 yards. That includes the final three targets of the day, all from 7 yards out.
I asked Valdes-Scantling about that:
Appreciated the response.
Also, respectfully, the dude's as done as done gets.
• Not that it was his fault Rodgers couldn't find a completely uncovered Kenny Gainwell over the middle -- where else? -- for what almost surely would've been a touchdown:
TRAI ESSEX / X
• Line of the day went to Denzel Ward, Cleveland's five-time Pro Bowl corner, after being the guy who covered Valdes-Scantling on that series: "I don’t know whose bright idea it was to try me for the game on three plays in a row.”
• Imagine how very little the Steelers must think of Roman Wilson to have talked him up through the week, then suited him up, only to never target him while he was watching a bunch of guys buying up retirement condos.
• Imagine having Jaylen Warren and Gainwell running as hard as they did ... only to have them held back by their own team: Just 19 carries to net 90 yards. Because hey, there just had to be a sideways toss to keep the bad guys honest.
• Imagine the defense pulling off not one but two field-flipping interceptions, only for the offense to turn those into zero -- count 'em, zero -- points. Talk about defining the game.
• To compound the boneheadedness of the fourth-and-1 heave to Miller, Tomlin could've simply had Chris Boswell boot a 39-yard field goal that would've been awesome to have down the stretch. Nope. He instead chose to have Boswell try -- and miss -- from 54 in the mud early in the fourth quarter after one of those Rodgers sacks. I don't want to hear about Boswell. On the list of problems, his recent bouts with mortality don't crack the top 9 trillion.
• Dylan Cook, who had another terrific overall day in rendering Myles Garrett moot -- one tackle, one quarterback hit, nothing else -- told me, unsolicited, he took blame for one of the Steelers' fourth-quarter drives stalling into a punt because of a false start flag thrown his way: "That's on me. I stopped us."
Well, no, he didn't. At least not as I saw it. His right shoulder flinched forward, but a careful re-look showed that it flinched at the exact same time the ball was snapped. Which is, you know, not a false start.
The officiating stunk, including in not penalizing Ward for the final throw to Valdes-Scantling, independent of all else.
• Anyone actually looking forward to next Sunday night?
THE ASYLUM
DK: Afraid of the Browns? Really? For shame!
Happen to catch the chest-pounding Mike Tomlin had been doing of late?
No, like, literal chest-pounding:
GETTY
Uh-huh, that. He'd be flanked by Aaron Rodgers and Cam Heyward, strutting out of that stadium after the Steelers would win wherever, seeking out the Towel-waving types up in the seats, and the pounding would follow. Often with two fists and an accompanying shout. Always with a face of defiance, of fearlessness.
Know when he should be doing that?
Yeah, how about maybe when he's walking into that stadium?
My friends, there was so much that was so spectacularly stomach-turning about that 13-6 loss to the Browns today here at Huntington Bank Field that I'm having a hard time summoning up a start. But in the same breath, I'm comfortable saying that it's not about setting that three-game surge -- and all the related warm-and-fuzzy -- on figurative fire. And that it's not about now being forced to face off with the Ravens in a one-and-done next weekend back home. And that it's not about discarding a precious week for potential recovery in a generally limping locker room.
Not really. Not when compared to this:
DEJAN KOVACEVIC / DKPS
Look familiar?
It shouldn't. Because that's the recently re-sodded vertical middle of the field. I snapped it a few minutes after the clock expired, if only to ensure it'd ever existed at all.
Here's my truth about this 9-7 team right now, and why, in this place on this day, I lost any faith for anything that might or might not occur beyond next weekend: No athletic entity, whether a group or an individual, can win scared.
This team plays scared. And that, I'm more convinced than ever, is because this head coach conducts this team in a way that's scared.
All afternoon long, against a Cleveland opponent that, befitting its putrid history, had entered this event 3-12, in last place, bracing to fire everyone and all that other stuff the citizens up here can now hold as a holiday tradition like any other ... the Steelers' offense tiptoed to the sidelines when passing. And threw sideways when passing. And seldom allowed a target -- whether wide receiver, tight end or running back -- to so much as set foot on that fresh sod. Entire drives would come and go without a solitary set of spikes making contact. Including, amusingly, those of the Browns, since they knew they needn't cover there.
OK, so if it didn't look familiar, does that at least sound familiar?
Oh, it most certainly should.
Because this isn't about Arthur Smith, I can assure you, as he's forever feasted off the middle of the field, including in how he's preferred his offensive rosters to be constructed. One doesn't load up on tight ends and big-boy formations because one prioritizes being cute. One doesn't forge a reputation on bully-ball because one can't wait to see how Jonnu Smith might tip-toe through a lateral screen. One would rather see this:
CBS SPORTS
This also isn't about Aaron Rodgers, who's a first-ballot Hall of Famer and one of the most decorated and dynamic throwers of the oblong spheroid in history, in large part because he can stick a dagger in any defense ... directly into the heart of it. He'd rather see this:
CBS SPORTS
Crazy how Cleveland had all those orange helmets in the area, and Rodgers and Pat Freiermuth still beat them all, allowing the Steelers one last chance to tie.
Those are football plays. Unapologetic. Unafraid.
Not the other nonsense that was seen on only about 95% of the Steelers' offensive snaps here, leading into Rodgers needing 39 throws to whip up 168 whole yards. Like this:
CBS SPORTS
That's Tomlin. That's all Tomlin.
If anyone might doubt that, including doubting my own discussions with people on the inside on this topic, allow me, please, to pose these questions: How does any of the above differ from what was seen under Matt Canada? Or even the brief period under Eddie Faulkner and Mike Sullivan? Or, for that matter, under any of the various quarterbacks who've followed Ben Roethlisberger and who've been instructed, especially against certain defenses for whom Tomlin tends to carry an extra measure of respect, to avoid the middle of the field at any cost?
Only the names have changed. That one facet hasn't.
Tomlin's even acknowledged it at times, though not on either of the two occasions I've brought it up this season. And he's done so in a way that simultaneously lauds the opponent's defense, with a near-reverence for the safeties, and a worry that interceptions will define the game.
Well, they might. But so might outright passivity, which is how this tends to play out.
Some data: The Steelers rank 21st in the NFL in throwing to the middle of the field -- between the numbers -- in going there 19.2% of the time. But even most of those are the equivalent of gimme putts, in that their average depth of target is 5.9 yards, the shortest in the league, with no other team below 6.2.
That's not a rookie Kenny Pickett out there anymore. That's a living legend. And it all still applies. Safe, safe, safe. Sideways, sideways, sideways. Or, on those rare deep routes, sidelines, sidelines, sidelines.
What'd everyone think of that fourth-and-1 heave to Scotty Miller, for crying out loud?
CBS SPORTS
Beyond absurd.
Miller was a great sport when I sought him out on this, though:
Hardly his fault. On top of all else, Rodgers overthrew it.
Neither Tomlin nor Rodgers could come close to justifying the call. The coach would say of his quarterback, "He certainly had options, and that was one of them." And the quarterback would say of it only this: "One-on-one."
Fine. So it's one-on-one. But glance back up at the previous image and ask why Miller, an experienced and sophisticated route-runner, couldn't have made a cut and broken away from Cleveland's Tyson Campbell. Or why Rodgers couldn't have tossed right in front of him to Adam Thielen on a rare crossing route.
My own answer, since they also seem to treat this like talking about 'Fight Club:' Most everything's drawn up this way, meaning straight lines, meaning parallel to the sidelines, meaning that even someone like Thielen finds grass in the middle, the quarterback's priority -- and, of course, the eyes -- are already at the edges.
I hate this. A lot.
I hate it more than the loss. More than the repercussions. More, even, than what it represents toward the franchise's future for as long as all this stays in place.
In the interim, keep any and all outward bravado from the architect in the proper context.
• Can't stress this strongly enough: The playcalling itself was poor at the coordinator level. The quarterbacking was just as poor, as Rodgers demonstrated through 18 incompletions, some of them way off, and two more sacks. All of these things can be -- and are -- true. My focus is on Tomlin because he's the one constant among countless variables with this offense.
• Another Rodgers problem: He'll really play favorites with his guys, to the extreme that he won't recognize that wide receivers age differently than quarterbacks. If it's possible, targeting Marquez Valdes-Scantling nine times to achieve three whole completions -- two, really, if you disregard one he didn't catch, but the Browns never reviewed -- for 21 yards. That includes the final three targets of the day, all from 7 yards out.
I asked Valdes-Scantling about that:
Appreciated the response.
Also, respectfully, the dude's as done as done gets.
• Not that it was his fault Rodgers couldn't find a completely uncovered Kenny Gainwell over the middle -- where else? -- for what almost surely would've been a touchdown:
TRAI ESSEX / X
• Line of the day went to Denzel Ward, Cleveland's five-time Pro Bowl corner, after being the guy who covered Valdes-Scantling on that series: "I don’t know whose bright idea it was to try me for the game on three plays in a row.”
• Imagine how very little the Steelers must think of Roman Wilson to have talked him up through the week, then suited him up, only to never target him while he was watching a bunch of guys buying up retirement condos.
• Imagine having Jaylen Warren and Gainwell running as hard as they did ... only to have them held back by their own team: Just 19 carries to net 90 yards. Because hey, there just had to be a sideways toss to keep the bad guys honest.
• Imagine the defense pulling off not one but two field-flipping interceptions, only for the offense to turn those into zero -- count 'em, zero -- points. Talk about defining the game.
• To compound the boneheadedness of the fourth-and-1 heave to Miller, Tomlin could've simply had Chris Boswell boot a 39-yard field goal that would've been awesome to have down the stretch. Nope. He instead chose to have Boswell try -- and miss -- from 54 in the mud early in the fourth quarter after one of those Rodgers sacks. I don't want to hear about Boswell. On the list of problems, his recent bouts with mortality don't crack the top 9 trillion.
• Dylan Cook, who had another terrific overall day in rendering Myles Garrett moot -- one tackle, one quarterback hit, nothing else -- told me, unsolicited, he took blame for one of the Steelers' fourth-quarter drives stalling into a punt because of a false start flag thrown his way: "That's on me. I stopped us."
Well, no, he didn't. At least not as I saw it. His right shoulder flinched forward, but a careful re-look showed that it flinched at the exact same time the ball was snapped. Which is, you know, not a false start.
The officiating stunk, including in not penalizing Ward for the final throw to Valdes-Scantling, independent of all else.
• Anyone actually looking forward to next Sunday night?
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