The Sands of Time

When I finally got the green light from the powers that be to begin a little blog on this site, I made a promise internally that I wouldn’t abuse my position and write weekly updates on every little thing the Steelers did. Last night was an occasion so momentous in the near 100 year history of the black and gold it felt impossible not to chime my two cents in.

Yesterday’s game was plodding along in typical Steeler fashion: A beatable, wounded team in the Bills walking into Acrisure, dominating the time of possession and commanding the game on the turf but not on the scoreboard. Two turnovers and a little luck papered over the cracks of an otherwise awaiting explosion.

Then Joey Bosa happened, and the dam completely burst. What followed was the most abjectly miserable 30 minutes of Steeler football in modern history. To everyone in the stadium, everyone watching at home who had watched this team throughout the year, this loss, this performance was pending. But I hazard a guess that even the most cynical fan couldn’t have predicted just how quickly the wheels came off. It was the inevitable conclusion of years of hubris, ignorance and sheer bloody mindedness; the boos that came after were entirely justified.

Why was this loss so bad? Because it insulted the intelligence of everyone watching. The same running plays working over and over again from the Bills, the same miserable offensive tactics falling flat, the same tosh during the week from coaches that stunk of an organisation desperate to ignore the ever louder outside noise. The same tired defense playing soft coverages and failing to adjust, the same toothless offense banging its head against a wall. The final nail in the coffin was the decision to play Renegade with 11 minutes left in the game. Like asking an asthmatic to blow up a lead balloon, all the air was gone from the building.

The other frustration? The Steelers may have had a chance this season. Unlike so many years, there are no juggernauts. The Chiefs window is closing, the Pats are untested, the Jags and Colts are as reliable as a junkie with a loan. The AFC North has been there for the taking all season and Pittsburgh will flunk the easiest divisional title possible due to their own incompetence.

No one last night was removed from criticism, from the quarterback to the punter, we were miserable. We are taking turns screwing this up and despite a .500 record, the formula “Tomlin ball” has cultivated over the last 5 years is an unsustainable cocktail of purgatory. The most damning stat in my eyes, we are 5th in the league in turnover differential and last in total plays, the 2025 Steelers in a nutshell. Unlike last season, the explosive capability for the offense to get something right like a broken clock has gone, our second string back has the second most receptions of anyone and the problem child diva wideout we traded for a middling pick in the spring  now has more yards by himself than our entire wide receiver room. 

So, what happens now? No idea. This current organisation for many years has felt like a gentlemen's club, riding the shoulders of the giants who bore the brunt of generations of slog to build the reputation of the Steelers to where it is today. From the assistant coaches to the owner, it feels perfectly happy to be coasting, thank you very much. Because like the product on the field, it is scared, ignorant or too stubborn to risk change in fear of losing that reputation. However in Art Rooney’s case, inaction is in itself an action and his loyalty to the people who he can scapegoat to wealth is threatening to damage his good will with the people who have long lauded his family’s remarkable contribution to the team and its City.  

Tomlin’s last ounce of good will with the fans ran out this weekend, and I dare say the players are cottoning on. When the players give up, as they appeared to on Sunday, the sands of time are already running. With such an important offseason coming up, a draft in Pittsburgh no less, the hope now must be a decision made before that same loyalty damages the next generation irreparably. It’s ironic, in a city famous for its bridges, the man who won a Super Bowl and produced a Hall of Fame body of work with this team, must be considering his bridge burnt.