Go Long

Refer a friend

Miss our 1 on 1 with Josh Allen? That feature is available right here for paid subscribers to Go Long.

Also, Ray Davis opens up on his ambitions. He wants a role on offense.

Be on the lookout for our next Friday Feature soon, as well as another episode of “Real Football” with Jim Monos.

#BraveLikeBoe: A cause to support here in Western New York...

Tyler Dunne — Tue, 09 Jun 2026 12:21:24 GMT

Good morning, readers. A quick pause from football if I may…

Live in the Western New York area? Looking to support a good cause?

The six-year-old son of one of my high school football teammates is battling brain cancer. This coming Saturday June 13 from 1 to 6 p.m. at the Great Valley, NY Fire Hall about an hour south of Buffalo, their family is holding a fundraising event. As noted in the graphic above, there will be a basket raffle, silent auctions, 50/50 and a ton of fun stuff planned for your kids.

Tickets are only $20 per person and kids under 12 are free. This gets you some chicken BBQ and two drink tickets.

The address is 6035 Depot St Great Valley, NY 14741.

I’ll be there with our family. Be sure to say hello if you’re able to make the trip.

And if you cannot attend but would like to donate, feel free to scan the Venmo code above or the link here.

I met up with Boe’s uncle and aunt this past weekend and, man. All I can say is that this little guy is a damn fighter.

Thanks, everyone.

Ray Davis wants the ball (and he's got a point)

Tyler Dunne — Mon, 08 Jun 2026 16:56:45 GMT

Getty Images

ORCHARD PARK, NY — His life is heading to the big screen.

Crossroad Productions is currently developing “Breakaway Ray,” which promises to be high drama worth your time.

In a league full of rags-to-riches tales, the upbringing of Ray Davis is particularly harrowing. The Buffalo Bills running back — as we’ve chronicled — grew up on the fringes of society itself. He became a ward of the state at age 8 and spent three different stints living in a homeless shelter: age six, eight and 12.

Some of his foster parents were fine. Others were abusive. He never knew when they’d simply get sick of him and throw him out. Whenever that two-week notice dropped, Davis scrambled to find a friend with a free couch or floor. One time, a foster parent put in the notice without even telling him. He found out on that 14th day and had no clue where to go.

As everyone will see on film one day, his resulting running style is a direct reflection of these roots. He’d go on to tear up defenses with Temple, Vanderbilt and Kentucky. As the Wildcats bell-cow back in ‘23, Davis carried the ball 199 times for 1,129 yards (5.7 avg.) and 14 touchdowns. “I let people feel me,” Davis told me in ‘24. “I let motherfuckers know it’s a long game. It’s a long, long game.”

The movie promises to be gripping for all viewers.

But this current life script? In the NFL? This isn’t exactly going according to plan.

Davis was an All-Pro kick returner in Year 2, and that was nice. But the team’s 5-foot-8, 211-pound wrecking ball is dying to prove his worth as a running back in the NFL. After chatting with Davis about his quarterback for our Friday Feature on Josh Allen, I figured we were overdue to ask what people should expect out of Ray Davis this season.

He began by admitting he’s trying to answer that same question to himself — he’s got no clue.

Then, Davis didn’t mince words.

'I truly believe I’m stepping into the best version of myself'

Tyler Dunne — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 18:13:31 GMT

Getty Images

I’ll never forget exactly where I was when a co-worker at Bleacher Report texted me a warning: everyone was about to get whacked. My truck had just pulled into the Spot Coffee parking lot in Hamburg, NY — a go-to office away from the office. The 2020 NFL season was closing in, fast, and I was eager to chip away at one story in-particular.

That quarterback revolutionizing the quarterback position in Kansas City? Patrick Mahomes? Yeah, the owner of the Buffalo Bills loved him. Terry Pegula was all, all, all in on the Texas Tech quarterback early as October ‘16. Back when Mel Kiper Jr. viewed him as a third-round pick.

Fresh off a funky Year 2 for the Bills’ current quarterback — the 2019 wild card put all talent, all warts on full display — I planned on doing a deep dive on Josh Allen.

Given the Mahomes context, nobody faced more pressure in the league than Allen.

B/R decided it didn’t care anymore about writing and, honestly, the feeling was relief.

The more I learned about Substack and the idea of independent media, the more creating Go Long was a no-brainer. I could not wait to create a forever home for real, raw pro football storytelling. B/R, of course, wasn’t alone. All oligarchs in sports media were ditching longform for lists and BS in the name of clicks and ad revenue. So rather than rely on the vision of someone who doesn’t care that much about journalism, I figured I’d create something for people that do want to invest 20 to 25 minutes of their time reading about the NFL.

Maybe people would respond. Maybe they wouldn’t. I wasn’t sure.

The first thing I did was ramp up the reporting on that Allen story.

In November ‘20, we launched our site with this 2-parter:

Allen delivered.

Allen detonated.

Allen hasn’t looked back.

Your reaction to this mini series helped sharpen our vision. It was clear right out of the chute that there are droves of fans who want to see what’s cookin’ behind the scenes around the entire league. And since I live here in Western New York, we’ve done our best to track everything Bills (and Allen). From 13 Seconds to Allen’s rise to 9/11 speeches to that HC-QB relationship to smashing the title window, sitting right in Sean McDermott’s office, more playoff heartache, several player profiles (like these on Damar Hamlin, Dalton Kincaid and Jordan Poyer) and, then, everything we’ve seen this wild offseason.

This past week, Go Long came full circle in the form of a 1-on-1 sitdown with Josh Allen.

To everyone who subscribes, thank you for making us part of your life. Feel free to email me at golongtd@substack.com if you have any questions or would just like to say hello.

To those on our free mailing list, it’s a swell time to upgrade to read this piece in full.

My promise is to always put your investment to good use. I’ve been traveling the country for more profiles and deep dives this offseason that’ll roll out over the coming weeks and months.

Have a great weekend, everyone!

Here are a few quotes from Josh Allen below. Much more insight in the story linked above.

“Every year you go through something. Scottie Scheffler talks about it all the time — the absurdism of ‘Why do I want to win this so badly? What’s the point of going out there and winning?’ Because at the end of the day you win and it’s on to the next. You’re just trying to win again. Those emotions that go on, it’s like, ‘Damn it. Every year that’s gone by, we haven’t gotten it done.’ The fire inside of me continues to push and want to get over that hump. No matter how crazy it seems. I want to accomplish something. I’ve set my mind to it and I want to accomplish it and I’m going to keep trying until I do.”

“This city winning a Super Bowl is the last greatest sports story in all of the world. I really do believe that. I want to be the guy that does it.”

“I’m going to play football how I know how to play it until I can’t. And when I can’t play it the way I want to play it, it’s probably when I’m done. But hopefully that’s still quite some time.”

“I’m a firm believer in no Plan B because it distracts from Plan A. That was my whole thing. I was like, ‘I’m going to figure it out.’ And I’ve always told myself in the NFL that there are two types of players: guys that figure it out and guys that get figured out. So I’ve always wanted to be in the first one there. Figuring it out.”

“I truly believe I’m stepping into the best version of myself.”

Inside the 2026 Buffalo Bills offseason

Tyler Dunne — Sat, 06 Jun 2026 10:02:16 GMT

Getty Images

Good morning! What a wild five months it’s been for the Buffalo Bills. All offseason long, we’ve guided you through all seismic changes right here at Go Long.

All stories are linked below.

New here? We’d love to welcome you as a paid subscriber.

I want NFL longform.

Current member? You can always share the word.

We’re powered by you.

Thanks, all.

Why was Sean McDermott Fired?

The goal is Super Bowls. With Josh Allen, the urgency has never been higher. Go Long talks to people with direct knowledge of the decision.

More:

‘What is success?’ The truth hurts...

Hunt for QB-HC harmony: Why Josh Allen is sitting in these meetings

‘He wants to win the whole damn thing:’ Inside the Buffalo Bills’ decision to hire Joe Brady as HC

The closer you look, the more it’s crystal clear why Terry Pegula, Brandon Beane and the Bills replaced Sean McDermott with Joe Brady. We take you inside the interview process.

Joe Brady takes charge, Part I: ‘I’ll set my jaw’

Sprinting onto the field in high school. Sleeping on a hotel floor. Authoring his own scouting reports. Who is the Buffalo Bills’ new head coach? A man with an “edge” who’s always in attack mode.

Joe Brady takes charge, Part II: ‘They’ve got to play us’

The head coach and quarterback are kindred spirits. Both, long ago, weren’t wanted in this sport. Now? All Joe Brady must do is win a Super Bowl. He won’t lose the plot.

‘My chip is deeper:’ Our 1 on 1 with Bills GM Brandon Beane

DJ Moore, Bradley Chubb, the 2026 draft. The Buffalo Bills boss details his thinking behind all roster construction. And, yes. He knows there’s pressure to win it all.

Why the DJ Moore trade is a win for the Buffalo Bills

‘He’s that guy:’ NFL WR coach on DJ Moore

Defense? Again? For the Buffalo Bills, it’s about the bigger picture in 2026...

Josh Allen, reborn

The heart and soul of the Buffalo Bills sits down with Go Long for an exclusive 1 on 1. As he enters the next stage of his football life, Josh Allen has more clarity than ever.

Refer a friend

We’ve got a new episode of “Real Football” with former NFL exec Jim Monos live as well:

Miss our three-part series in December 2023? All stories are unlocked to read, icymi:

2025 player profiles:

Real Football: Josh Allen 2.0, Rams as NFL villains, NBA fun & Joe "dime a dozen" Montana

Tyler Dunne — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 19:35:45 GMT

There’s no high-drama quite like pro football and every high drama needs a villain.

That’s why Game of Thrones devolved into steaming garbage the final season. It was not ruthless enough.

After a sloppy, injury-plagued 2025, the Kansas City Chiefs aren’t quite as loathed at the moment. Could the Los Angeles Rams fill that void? On this week’s episode of Real Football, we discuss the blockbuster trade heard ‘round the league: Myles Garrett to the Rams.

This roster is loaded. Good luck finding a weakness. But let’s not forget about those defending champs in Seattle.

At the top of the show, it’s all Josh Allen.

I sat down with the Buffalo Bills quarterback for our latest feature, available right here for paid subscribers. At 30, as a new Dad, he’s “extremely rejuvenated.” On the pod, we examine the landscape of this AFC. Getting to the Super Bowl is on Allen’s mind.

As usual, we bounce around to various topics. I’ve got to admit the NBA has been quite entertaining and we get to that A.J. Brown trade. The New England Patriots are loading up around Drake Maye.

But I’ve got a sneaking suspicion that there will be much feedback concerning one of my co-host’s takes. Jim Monos scouted for the Eagles, the Saints and was a personnel exec with the Bills. He harbors a strong, contrarian view on one… Joe Montana.

Appreciate everyone who has found Go Long this week in light of our Allen piece.

As a friendly reminder, we’re powered by you. No ads, no sponsors, no gambling blood money. Thank you for supporting independent journalism.

Video and audio of this episode is available above and over on our Apple, Spotify and YouTube channels.

Josh Allen, reborn

Tyler Dunne — Fri, 05 Jun 2026 15:32:51 GMT

Illustration by Brave Buffalo

Go Long sat down 1 on 1 with Buffalo Bills quarterback Josh Allen.

Paid subscribers can access our feature below.

The former MVP opens up on everything.

I want NFL longform.

ORCHARD PARK, NY — The quarterback who spellbinds defenses with ballistic-missile arm strength, aerodynamic athleticism and one of the sport’s highest IQs has officially met his match. Many nights, Josh Allen is wide awake from 2 a.m. to 3 a.m. And precisely when he thinks his baby girl is fast asleep and starts to lay her back down, she wakes up.

Her eyes stretch wide open.

Dad cannot help but laugh.

“Because she’s me,” says Allen. “She is me and my wife. I don’t like to miss a good time. She wants to hang out with us.”

Whispering from another room doesn’t help. Both Allen and his wife, Hailee Steinfeld, have learned it’s best if the sound of their normal chatter serves as white noise to help their daughter ever… so… gradually drift off. They’re not outsourcing parenting duties to a cadre of nannies. Allen, with immense pride, dubs himself “The Diaper King.” So far, he has surrendered zero blowouts. With very disciplined diaper methodology, he’s hoping to extend this streak for months. Not a single onesie has bit the dust. The key, he explains, is to stretch each wing flap over as tight as possible. He’s hesitant to namedrop the brand of diaper, as if protecting a top-, top-secret play.

Up close, I detect zero fatigue. No bags under his eyes. Nary a trace of exasperation.

The quarterback with an entire city on his back glides from the outdoor practice field to chairs waiting inside an empty fieldhouse. Allen is positively radiant.

All a striking contrast from the last time America saw him. The night of Jan. 17, 2026 supplied another round of medieval torture for all associated with the Buffalo Bills. Allen has never appeared this wounded in eight pro seasons. Moments after his team’s 33-30 overtime loss to the Denver Broncos in the AFC divisional round, Allen stepped up to the podium and sniffed away emotions best he could. He exhaled deeply, kept his eyes down, tapped the dais. Concealing the debilitating pain from yet another postseason stunner was an impossible task.

Tears poured. He pointed the finger at himself.

This is exactly where Go Long’s exclusive 1 on 1 with Josh Allen must begin. He was gutted that night.

How on earth can anyone harness all this raw emotion for good?

Half of me expects Allen to treat that night like a traumatic episode and refuse to relive the despair in any way. He does not. He is facing his new reality head-on.

Kevin Warren's stadium debacle a painful reminder for Chicago Bears

Tyler Dunne — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 12:48:27 GMT

Getty Images

On the field, the NFL remains a merit-based enterprise. Perform, and you’ll see a raise. Millions of dollars fill your bank account. Fail, and you’ll be released. Ejected into a new 9-to-5 reality. The entire world sees exactly what you bring (or don’t bring) to a football team. There’s no guesswork. Off the field, it gets murky. We don’t always know who’s good and who’s bad at their job. Owners who are present have a chance to snuff out used-car salesmen and hire the best people. Owners who are not — George McCaskey has claimed to be just a “fan” in Chicago — suffer from an abundance of blind spots.

A business plan that allows people like Kevin Warren to consolidate power.

In our House of Dysfunction series last summer, the grand poobah of these Chicago Bears was skewered by employees past and present for creating a culture of fear at Halas Hall.

Bottom line, he was hired in January 2023 to build a stadium.

It’s now June 2026.

At this rate, George R.R. Martin will publish “The Winds of Winter” before dirt is moved.

Warren first promised “shovels in the ground” by 2024. That didn’t happen. Warren then targeted 2025. That didn’t happen. Instead, legions of Bears fans have been treated to nothing but empty press releases, sugar-high interviews and, mostly, mud-slinging between Warren and these politicians. Downtown? Arlington Heights? Hammond, Indiana? This week’s news is the most damning yet and a sign that — as promising as 2025 was for these Bears — a stench still lingers.

Miss the Bears series? All three parts are now unlocked: Part I, Part II and Part III.

Subscribers can access everything at Go Long.

The Illinois legislature ended its spring session Monday AM without passing a bill that would’ve laid the foundation for the Bears to build a new home 26 miles from the city in Arlington Heights. The previous president, Ted Phillips, purchased the 326-acre property for $197.2 million. Unless there’s a special session in the summer, Illinois state legislature won’t convene again until November.

The Bears can build their stadium without tax assistance (ha!) or, as locals feared, pivot out of state.

Indiana has already passed legislation to attract the Bears.

A common theme has developed through the stadium stalemate.

Political reporters in Springfield keep hearing one name.

Live from the Big Tree! An OTA look into Joe Brady's new world...

Tyler Dunne — Wed, 03 Jun 2026 01:20:16 GMT

Josh Allen’s arm remains Henry Rowengartner strong.

DJ Moore’s route running has been silky smooth in this setting.

All of those new defensive pieces are starting to piece together in Jim Leonhard’s defense.

OTAs have commenced across the country with minicamps ‘round the bend and training camps closer than you think. I spent some time this week at One Bills Drive for big stuff you’ll see roll out in the future. Until then, here’s a pod. I joined Jay Skurski of The Buffalo News at the Big Tree Inn, a Hail Mary toss from the new stadium, for an episode of the Go Long Pod.

Always enjoy talking shop with Jay, and he recently penned a feature on Davison Igbinosun worth your time.

We hit on a bunch of topics…

Joe Brady is the man in charge now. X’s and O’s will matter. But it’s clear the new boss bounding drill to drill is trying to infuse the Bills with a new energy.
Allen’s arm looks spry as ever. Nobody should take this quarterback for granted. (A certain “hospitality tent” throw comes to mind.)
Brady wants these Bills to ATTACK. “They’ve got to play us” is a theme. How can the Bills drill this theme home in the spring?
Brady also told Go Long that Pete Carmichael was his most important hire. Why? The new OC met with the media on Tuesday.
Who’s a player on offense that could surprise in 2026? We each offer a submission. (Hint: One uses blunt language.)
Why Ed Oliver’s play style could fit Leonhard’s expected chaos.
Cornerback was always a major need and GM Brandon Beane explained why in our 1 on 1. We discuss the team’s most polarizing draft pick: Ohio State’s “IGB.”

You can catch the video and audio of our conversation above.

Be on the lookout for more coverage this coming Friday.

Thanks, all.

Real Football: Could this whole Aaron Rodgers-Mike McCarthy thing work? A hearty debate...

Tyler Dunne — Thu, 28 May 2026 19:08:10 GMT

Aaron Rodgers and Mike McCarthy are together again. What a difference seven years make, eh? The Pittsburgh Steelers refuse to rebuild, so they’ll roll with a fading great who turns 43 years old this season. McCarthy evolved in Dallas, escaped the Jerry World rot and will try to squeeze a little more magic out of his old QB.

He doesn’t need to do this. What an opportunity the coach had to develop someone else.

But while one ex-Packer sees squabbling between the two as inevitable, another offers a different prediction.

And my co-host Jim Monos is downright giddy.

This was a fun episode of “Real Football.”

OTAs can offer funky headlines. Our charge this week is simple: Which team has you legitimately excited? Monos explains why he’s in on the Steelers changes and sees hope in Tennessee. Our former NFL scout/exec says Cam Ward is the most talented quarterback in the AFC South.

Meanwhile, I like how Kevin O’Connell pivoted his Vikings. Kyler Murray is set up to succeed. Maybe this is all being sold as a “competition” at quarterback. Murray was brought in to start and contend.

We delve into Monos’ take that O-Line is overvalued by NFL GMs, my take on Jaxson Dart and other topics, too.

Video and audio is above. You can also catch this episode on our Apple, Spotify and YouTube channels.

Be sure to rate, review and share if you enjoy.

Paid subscribers can access all future episodes of the show.

Miss anything in print this past week?

He’s been patronized, mocked, dismissed by the football world. None of it stopped one of the sport’s smallest players. Now, it’s time to bring life to decrepit MetLife and awaken the Giants. My profile of Calvin Austin III is here.
A few thoughts on the topic du jour. No, Jaxson Dart did not nuke the locker room.
Drafting linemen high is a waste of time if you don’t have a quarterback. Monos column here.

No, Jaxson Dart did not nuke the locker room

Tyler Dunne — Wed, 27 May 2026 16:52:13 GMT

Getty Images

Miss our latest profile? Go Long sat down with New York Giants wide receiver Calvin Austin III for 2+ hours over dinner in New Jersey.

Look deeper into his past and it’s evident he’s exactly what this organization needs.

Ten years and one month ago, Rex Ryan strutted up to a podium inside First Niagara Center in downtown Buffalo to introduce the Republican nominee for President of the United States. A businessman by the name of Donald J. Trump. It was a wild night — stick around for video footage at the bottom of this post. Back then, I was covering the event as a Bills beat writer for The Buffalo News. As I walked to the media viewing zone alongside Mike Rodak of ESPN and Matthew Fairburn of Syracuse.com— lanyards around necks, laptops in tow — we were serenaded with boos.

New York always votes blue, of course. Nothing happening here was going to change the election. Yet, the area was packed. Right then, I remember thinking Trump just might pull a November upset.

Rex did Rex, pumping up the crowd with prepared battle cries.

There was backlash. Locally and nationally.

A decent amount of players on the Buffalo Bills roster certainly weren’t thrilled with the political affiliation of their boss. Eventually, OTAs came around. Then, minicamp, Then, training camp. Then, those 2016 Bills went 7-9 and Ryan was promptly fired.

There was plenty of squabbling in those Bills locker rooms. The season prior, multiple vets were pissed at Mario Williams for quiet quitting and, per one vet, caring more about his remote control cars than playing football. Sammy Watkins demanded the ball 10 times a game. Percy Harvin essentially vanished from the team. LeSean McCoy kissed the Eagles logo ahead of a game against his old team. The team’s offensive line coach (allegedly) punched a boy and threatened to kill his family over the use of a beach chair. The club picked up one defensive end, IK Enemkpali, who slugged his own Jets QB in the jaw… and then made him the captain ahead of one primetime Bills-Jets game.

When Rex hired his twin brother Rob into ‘16 — the real alpha brother — Buffalo’s defense only got worse.

If we were to conduct a forensic study of the Rex Era Bills, his decision to introduce Trump at a rally would hardly register. I knew a few players on the left end of the political spectrum in the locker room who didn’t give a damn about his voting preference. They also recall Rex’s pregame speeches as some of the best they’ve heard in their lives. But, man. They hated his scheme. They’re still pissed that he somehow managed to ruin a good thing on defense.

Which brings us to Jaxson Dart.

Calvin Austin III is the firestarter

Tyler Dunne — Tue, 26 May 2026 09:12:13 GMT

Illustration by Brave Buffalo

CLIFTON, N.J. — His eyes squint toward the wall to his right. There’s nothing but a busboy over there tidying up dishes. Dim lighting. No foot traffic. But staring that direction, Calvin Austin III slips into a time machine. We’re not inside a restaurant anymore. We’ve transported to the Memphis Tigers weight room. It’s 2017. Austin, the local kid, is a walk-on.

In the middle of the room, players could make smoothies and protein drinks. There were a few offices. And whenever the food arrived, only those on scholarship were permitted to proceed. It could be sandwiches from Lennys Grill & Subs or Sonic burgers. They got first dibs.

Walk-ons? Austin points at that wall. They’d patiently wait right there for their turn.

“Once they got their stuff,” Austin says, “then we could get our stuff.”

Usually, there was enough food. But this emasculating exercise established a clear caste system that crystallized exactly where Austin, the runt of the freshman class, stood in the program. Reality checks were supplied outside the building, too. From the line at Cook Out, Austin sent his sister a request for $6 on Cash App because that’s how much it cost for a burger, tenders, fries and a milkshake. She’d always send it right away. His pockets were bare.

One workout, Austin smoked the competition in sprints. The last rep, Austin “hit another gear” and coasted 10+ yards ahead of everyone else. A jarring expedition of pure speed that compelled one of the Tigers’ strength coaches to break tradition. He let the walk-on eat first with the scholarship players. Here, a rush of euphoria visibly fills Austin. In countless ways, he’s forever stuck in 2017 because nothing beat this literal hunger to succeed. Most NFL veterans understandably lament the fact that they missed out on NIL money. Not Austin. He’ll pass on $200K, the going rate for No. 3 and No. 4 receivers at Power 4 schools, for one Sonic burger. That satisfied his appetite back then.

“I’m so thankful to have missed out on prime NIL,” he says, “because I don’t know what my mindset would’ve become. I truly found myself.”

He’s 5 feet 7 3/4 inches tall and 165 pounds. One of the smallest players in the entire NFL. At Tommy’s Tavern + Tap, there’s no distinguishing this patron in a leather booth from anyone else. Austin sports a black crew with the words “Athletically Speaking” inscribed across the chest. Dreads droop to his shoulders. As he speaks, he thumbs the paper wrapping from his straw into a ball and speaks… fast. One story zips to the next at one high-octane pace. All with maximum enthusiasm. There’s a contagious vigor to Austin’s personality that represents the diametric opposite of everything produced inside of his new home.

Six miles away, MetLife Stadium has been more $1.6 billion penitentiary than palooza. Soul-sucking. Insipid. Being a bad football team is one thing — and these Giants are 74-129-1 since 2013 — but bad and boring creates entirely new depths of torture for all inhabitants. One of the NFL’s proudest franchises has been about as digestible as a shot of tabasco sauce.

Hope, however, is now renewed. The fusion of a Super Bowl-winning coach (John Harbaugh) who’s tallied 193 victories through his career, a swaggering young quarterback (Jaxson Dart) and a roster flush with promising young talent has vaulted the New York Giants into offseason darlings territory. After the draft, they were the most-bet NFC team to reach the Super Bowl. This could all combust, of course.

What these Giants need is a shock to the system. A signature Big Bang moment. A player who’ll bring life to MetLife.

They need Calvin Austin III.

He knows his football life has been a steady build toward this 2026 NFL season.

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A stunning New York City skyline is visible across the Hudson River. This is the big time. Austin will consciously sustain and weaponize his walk-on mentality because he’s forever the forgotten one. He’s the high school kid who rifled off 400 emails nationwide for one shot, only to receive hardly any replies online and utter garbage in-person. One D-I coach’s condescending voice still plays in his head. He’s the college kid humiliated in one of his first drills who learned how to morph what everyone deemed a fatal flaw — his size — into a “superpower.”

A superpower that changed the course of multiple NFL franchises in a millisecond.

Just like that, he transports again. It’s now Jan. 4, 2026 and the AFC title is on the line at Acrisure Stadium. All of 2 minutes and 20 seconds remain for his Pittsburgh Steelers to save their season against Baltimore. Austin wonders if this will be the last game for Aaron Rodgers and Mike Tomlin. As the kickoff sails into the end zone for a touchback, Rodgers plots with OC Arthur Smith with the receiver within earshot. He hears them ask each other how they can get Calvin Austin the ball and wants to pinch himself. (“Nobody can take that from me. They’re talking about me. Getting me the ball the first play of the drive.”)

The Steelers line up with three receiving options to the left and Rodgers knifes a slant to Austin on the backside for 16 yards.

Soon, it’s now third and 10 with 55 seconds left from the Ravens 26-yard line. I pull up the theatrics on my phone. We watch it together.

“You’re in the moment,” Austin recalls. “You understand the stakes. This is do or die. It’s now or never. The season is on the line.”

Pittsburgh again wants to work Austin as the lone receiver on the backside. Inside the huddle, Rodgers asks what route he wants to run. In his head, Austin’s thoughts race. If the Ravens play zone, he’d prefer to run a slant and nestle into a window. But if they go man, he can get vertical. The play clock ticks. Tension builds. No timeouts remain. A decision is needed, ASAP, and one Steelers offensive lineman cries out: “Just cook him!” Rodgers instructs Austin to run a stutter-go.

As Austin jogs to the line of scrimmage, he cannot tell if its Cover 3 or man. Rodgers barks an elongated “Green Nineteeeeeeen,” before a snappy “GreenNineteenSetHut,” and the second Austin explodes out of his stance he notices that cornerback Chidobe Awuzie’s eyes are glued to him. Fresh. Meat. “Respect him,” he says. “But I think we all knew what time it was.” Austin slammed his brakes on a stutter at the 21-yard line, Awuzie slipped to all fours, and off he accelerated for a touchdown. (The NFL later anointed this route of the year.)

Cradling the game-winning ball, Austin lounges in Row 1 with the fans and Pittsburgh hangs on to win, 26-24. Baltimore’s Harbaugh is fired and — two months later — there’s the coach calling Austin to say how nice it’ll be to share the same sideline in New York.

“I got him fired,” Austin quips, “so we could come together.”

One of the best coaches in the sport believes. For ages, there was only one person.

Harbaugh can shred him to pieces in front of the entire team. Roger Goodell can issue an indefinite suspension. NYC tabloids can splatter his face in clown’s makeup. Their scorn will never bother him because, to this day, the only person he strives to please is his father. Once he’s finished reliving his rise in vibrant detail, Austin walks along a sidewalk outside the restaurant.

I ask him for his father’s phone number. He lights up.

“Ask him why he believed in me? I honestly have no clue why.”

Go Long

The plan

When Giants receivers were asked to submit photos for a slideshow introducing themselves to teammates, his decision was easy. Calvin Austin III chose the jersey that was comically large. His flowing No. 84 Memphis Tigers mesh could’ve doubled as a kite. It was 2XL. The last player to wear this was a tight end.

But when the walk-on first stared at the name plate and saw “Austin III,” he beamed.

“You couldn’t tell me nothing,” Austin says. “Nobody could tell me nothing. At that point? I had almost made it.”

In truth, he didn’t mind waiting forever for a sandwich that year.

His mere presence inside the Memphis Tigers weight room was the realization of a dream.

Since age 8, the Memphis native imagined himself putting on this jersey.

He’d listen to Tigers games on 92.9 FM with his Dad both in the car and home. They attended games via $5 Kroger tickets. The names he rattles off no doubt sound like made-up television characters. To Austin, they’re heroes. One time, he met Duke Calhoun at a gas station. (“I was like, ‘Boy, that’s Duke Calhoun! I listened to him on the radio!’”) Calhoun earned an opportunity with the Giants in 2010 but was beat out by a fellow UDFA that spring named Victor Cruz. He raves about Carlos Singleton as more of a Paul Bunyan figure. (“Many people don’t know this. He was 6-8!”)

Of course, there was one other small detail. Through Austin’s entire childhood, ’06 to ’13, the Tigers were steaming garbage. They won four games or less six times. One shellacking, East Carolina’s Chris Johnson ran roughshod for 301 yards through the Memphis D. Austin sat exceptionally close to all carnage. So close he could see beads of sweat trickling down the players’ foreheads, hear what players were saying, truly feel everyone’s pain. Fans in attendance understood to head to the parking lots by halftime. Lest they do irreparable damage to their retinas.

As Austin trudged back to his vehicle, at Dad’s side, he repeatedly looked into the future.

“My whole mindset was, ‘You know what? I’m going to be a five-star recruit. I’m going to have all the offers — Alabama, Oregon — and I’m going to stay home and go to Memphis, change the whole program around,” Austin says. “Have the whole city saying, ‘Wow, he’s a hometown hero.’ Like DeAngelo Williams did.

“I was a real deal Memphis Tigers football fan.”

He pounds a fist into his hand.

Turning dream to reality was another story. This mission should’ve been aborted many times over.

Athletic gifts were obvious… early. As in, age 5. When everyone was in town for the baby shower of Calvin III’s younger sister, Dad orchestrated a pickup game at a local high school. Calvin II was the youngest of 11 siblings, which meant this particular field was full of nephews a decade older than Calvin III. In the huddle, he instructed his son to follow his lead block. But when Dad pitched the ball back, a funny thing happened. Son saw a gleam of daylight and instinctively cut back against the grain.

None of those teenagers could catch him. Everyone started calling him “Mr. Cutback.”

Soon after, Calvin III started studying the greats. Right down to how Deion Sanders covered receivers out of breaks.

The ensuing summer, Austin got into track where he soon starred in the 100, 200, 400 and long jump. At age 9, his jump of 16-4 took gold at the Junior Olympics. He realized his speed rivaled peers across the country.

He was also pint-sized.

He also attended Harding Academy, a small private Christian school with coaches who had no clue how to use him.

Austin played both ways through high school and got the ball on funky jet sweeps, pitchouts, screens, runs, even the Wildcat. He scored on kick returns and pick-sixes. But as a senior, he estimates only 12 or 13 of his receptions came as a traditional receiver. He never grasped the idea of passing concepts, never ran actual routes. After games, opposing coaches would tell Dad that the greatest defense against his son were his own coaches. Nor had the general idea of the “slot receiver” evolved much beyond White New England Patriot. College coaches weren’t giving much thought to how an electric talent like this could be unleashed.

Austin smiles and reaches for his phone. The screen is so spiderweb-cracked I can hardly make out what he’s trying to show me. But it’s his email inbox.

Thumbing along, he shows off a long, long, long list of emails sent to college coaches from 2015 and 2016. Austin reached out to every single school he could. He’d type “4.38 Nike Verified 40” in the subject headline, figuring the time would convince a coach to at least click open the email instead of rendering it spam. Inside, he included a link to his Hudl highlight reel. In all, Austin estimates that he sent approximately 400 emails. Most coaches completely ignored him. Some politely wrote back that they’re going to pass. Other times, he received an automated reply. No genuine emails from the heart come to mind.

He later texts me this video to illustrate:

The goal never wavered: rack up D-I offers from the best of the best and stay in Memphis. But it didn’t matter when he got to meet these same coaches in-person. He’d run a sizzling 40 as a DB or WR at a school’s camp, open some eyes and interest quickly died off.

Missouri once invited him on an informal visit because of an old Memphis connection. Austin knew they were merely pacifying him. Interest wasn’t legit. The summer of his junior year, he tore up the Memphis Tigers’ camp at receiver and even recalls head coach Mike Norvell using him as an example in front of everyone. Norvell praised his performance and applauded his academics. All words, all niceties. No offer was extended.

Generosity always cloaked doubt. He was friend-zoned at every turn.

On this car ride home, Calvin III was heartbroken. To him, it was an indisputable fact that he was the best athlete in the entire city. Why wouldn’t Memphis want one of their own? Dad told son to keep chopping wood, to stay upbeat, when he was equally incredulous in the back of his head. Why did they not offer him?! he thought. Eventually, Calvin II said it’d be smart to consider a Plan B in case Memphis never came around.

Yet camp to camp to camp — showcases for high school prospects — his son had every reason to lose hope in playing college football anywhere.

There was the camp at Middle Tennessee State in Murfreesboro, 239 miles away, the summer before his senior year. Longtime head coach Rick Stockstill asked Austin and two others to stay and catch passes from his son, Brent, the school’s starting QB the year before. It went so well that Dad remembers the coach telling them to cancel all plans to attend all future camps — they were scheduled to head 549 miles to Marshall the following week. They held tight. Anticipation bubbled. They expected an offer.

Crickets. They never even received a phone call.

Ivy League schools expressed interest. He flew to New York to participate at Columbia’s camp, then rented a car with his father to drive out to Boston for Harvard’s camp. That’s where he picked off eight passes at DB, set a broad jump record and still didn’t get an offer. He considered the University of Penn because of their strong track program. Tiny Holy Cross sold the fact that they helped get diminutive wide receiver Kalif Raymond to the pros. (We profiled Raymond here, icymi.)

One problem with those Ivy schools is that they weren’t full rides. Even if he received a technical “offer,” financial aid was required. The other problem was that they weren’t Memphis.

Still, he charged on. He attended another local camp that featured a bunch of small schools across the state of Tennessee at Dad’s urging. Dad convinced him that it only takes one set of eyes to somehow domino his dream into motion. At receiver, Austin smoked DBs in 1 on 1’s, produced another blistering 40 and, to his delight, recruiting coordinator Julius McNair asked to chat. He felt butterflies. Hope rushed through his body. OK, this wasn’t ‘Bama or Georgia. But Austin could sense his first real scholarship offer coming. UT-Martin’s McNair praised his route running, his speed and what he said next struck Austin with the warmth of a haymaker to the chin. This was the most cruel insult of ‘em all.

McNair recommended a Division III school, Rhodes College, eight miles down Sam Cooper Boulevard. Told him this would be a perfect fit because he was too small for D-I.

Austin held it together for the handshake and said goodbye. As soon as McNair left, he called his Dad from the field. And sobbed.

“I’m crying,” Austin says. “I’m hurt.”

Both felt helpless. Everyone believed he was too small to compete. At his size, he’d forever receive zero benefit of the doubt.

That’s why Calvin II leaned into a go-to slogan: “Let ‘em know who you are.” Dad implored son to force his hand, to “destroy perception” by killing the cornerback’s will. This was the darkest day… but it didn’t permanently crush Austin, it didn’t compel him to lower the bar. Part of this is innate. Calvin II insists his son was born with rare mental fortitude. Dad was a police officer for 27 years in Memphis. The final eight, he worked for the Internal Affairs Security Squad where his job was to read people. Calvin III, he’s convinced, was hungry to be something special since he took that cutback the distance as a 5-year-old. But nurture was also at work. He was armored for all slights, all disrespect because of a different sport.

Whereas football was subjective — and he was penalized for his size — track and field was certifiably objective. Your time is your time.

Track sharpened his mind and thickened his skin. He thinks back to when nerves first paralyzed him at a meet. He was 10. It was the Shelby Youth Sports track league and, by God, he loathed the 400-meter run. As his one all-out sprint around the track closed in, the anxiety was crippling. Calvin III told Calvin II he was sick, a total lie to escape the event. Dad let son sit in the car to calm down, compose himself and get ready for the 200.

Over time, son learned to face those fears. Track hardened him.

“When you’re out on that line, it’s just you,” Austin says. “And you know the result is however you practiced.”

No sport holds up a mirror into your soul like track. Coast in training? It’ll show. “When you get out there on that line on meet day? That result is you,” Austin continues. “There is no hiding.” On meet day, you’re waiting… waiting… waiting… until, finally, a voice over the speaker announces that your event is on deck. Nerves spike. Cottonmouth sets in. Your body knows damn well its about to get pushed to the point of collapse. Want to avoid this pain? That’s fine. Nobody in the stands will know if you only gave 80 percent. But you’ll be forced to live with that shame.

“If you can do track and have character and continue to push through your nerves,” Austin says, “you’re going to be well-prepared for life.”

In high school, Austin won nine state titles. Confidence grew. The Memphis track and field coach, Miles Smith, obviously wanted this nationally decorated athlete to stay in-state. Austin made it clear he wanted to participate in track and football and Smith got Norvell to agree to a “preferred walk-on” roster spot.

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All along, there was only one person who believed he’d play at Memphis and, one day, the NFL.

His father.

“Nobody else,” Austin says. “He’s the one who always speaks life into me.”

This wasn’t an “I love you”-type of relationship early on. Son simply didn’t hear those words. Nor did he need to. On the police force, Calvin II often worked the night shift to coach his son in everything possible during the day. Soccer, basketball, flag football. Calvin III isn’t even sure when his father slept. “So love?” he says. “Maybe you don’t say it, but sacrificing sleep, waking up to coach little kids? That’s love.” Son was consumed by earning Dad’s respect. Discipline was common from a father who worked in law enforcement. Son didn’t do anything crazy at home. “But,” Calvin III adds, “the Bible says do not spare the rod. He didn’t spare the rod.”

Whenever he heard a rumble from his parents’ closet, he knew the belt was coming. A parenting method not exactly championed in literature today. If Austin has kids of his own one day, he jokes that he’ll have them do wall squats as punishment.

He also wouldn’t change a thing. Father and son grew exceptionally close. He can still picture Dad on his high school sidelines with a bucket hat on his head and a jar of pickle juice in his right hand to help him fight through cramps. Bill Belichick and/or Jerry Rice could declare Calvin Austin III the best player ever and it wouldn’t mean a thing if he let his father down. “To the point now,” Austin says, “where I have so much admiration and respect for that discipline. If something happens, yeah, call Coach Harbaugh. Call Roger Goodell. Don’t call my dad. Don’t call my Dad.”

The inverse is also true. If the entire world declared him trash — but Dad offered a hug? — he’d be just fine.

“My Dad is everything to me. Everything.”

His mind races back to another vivid memory. He’s 14. He’s about to race in the finals of club championships and anxiety returns. Tears start to well up and his father extends a hand. “Son,” he tells him, “I’m proud of you. Regardless of what the result is, I love you.” It’s the first time Calvin III recalls hearing those words.

His Gmail was a ghost town through 49 TDs, 3,492 all-purpose yards, that official 4.38 and numerous camps set ablaze.

Austin was undeterred. His foot was in the Memphis door and that was enough.

“Once I get there,” he told Dad, “I’m going to show ‘em who I am.”

Dream realized

He had the jersey, albeit baggy. He had a sandwich, albeit delayed. Calvin Austin III was a Memphis Tiger. All the walk-on needed to do now was learn how to play wide receiver. Tricky considering he knew nothing about the position beyond Iverson’ing fools at the line of scrimmage. Austin studied tutorials on YouTube, but humiliation was inevitable.

He mutters the words “Skills and Drills” in scarring dread. This was when receivers ran routes vs. air. No defense. Easy enough.

On his curl route, Austin dropped not one, not two, but three passes in a row. Finally, the coaches had enough and ordered him to the back of the line to keep the drill moving. The fundamental act of catching an in-breaking route felt unnatural — the ball came out fast. This was the first time Austin ever caught a football from a quarterback with a real arm. Buried on the depth chart throughout his 2017 freshman year, Austin’s football future appeared grim. Most of the Memphis staff viewed Austin as scout-team filler, a small track guy.

Then, a second person started to believe.

A young quality control coach felt a gravitational pull toward him.

The closer David Glidden watched Austin, the more he realized the freshman’s sonic speed was accompanied by something else: desire. Glidden taught him the meticulous nuances of the craft: a “fastball” release, a speed release, a 1-2 curveball, a 1-2-3 changeup. He showed him how one move set up the next, and the next to create a pattern. He detailed how the linebacker, corner, safety created a “triangle” composition to read pre-snap.

Even while overseeing 100+ players, Norvell couldn’t help but notice this apprenticeship. Inside an offensive meeting, the head coach gave Glidden the floor. “You like Calvin?” he asked.

Glidden, as a GA, didn’t even have a seat at the table. His chair was pushed up against a side wall. With those three words, he knew his own reputation was on the line. So, he told the truth. He announced to the entire room that he believes Austin would become “a big-time player” at Memphis.

Other coaches in the room audibly laughed.

Norvell nodded his head, stored that intel away and moved onto the next order of business.

What made Glidden believe? What did he see that nobody else could? For starters, he was a 5-8 wide receiver himself at Oklahoma State from ’11 to ’15. He wasn’t nearly as gifted, as fast, as twitchy but Glidden recognized an inner flame dying for kindling when he saw one. Austin’s natural release off the line was also “extremely, extremely rare,” the coach says, and Austin possessed a “Gumby”-like ability to bend his body in ways impossible for larger receivers. A lot of kids understand what you’re saying, but can’t apply it. Teaching Austin the position was something like inputting data into a machine.

Glidden tapped into his own experience with Kasey Dunn at Oklahoma State, an OC he considers a receiver guru. Dunn’s style was straight to the point. Which fit Austin’s Point A-to-Point B explosion perfectly. To this day, Glidden instructs his players to study Austin’s releases on YouTube because there’s no fluff, no nonsense. “It’s quick, it’s sudden,” Glidden says. “He knows the quarterback doesn’t have all day to sit back there.”

He viewed Calvin Austin III through a refractor hundreds of other college coaches could not comprehend. Negatives were viewed as positives. To Glidden, there was immense value in both his size and a blank slate. Too often, coaches inherit players with horrid habits impossible to break. Austin had none. Austin was a freak athlete who could be molded.

“A thing that’s beautiful,” Glidden says. “You can’t ask for more as a coach when they’re talented, they’re willing to work and they’re coachable and you don’t have to break a bunch of bad habits to create new ones.

“It’s a thing of beauty. It’s the best-case scenario.”

Residing in scout-team purgatory, unaware of that meeting, Austin considered reshuffling his priority list.

After Year 1, Calvin III told Calvin II that he wanted to do full-time track in the spring. Maybe it was time to embrace the 100 and 200 and see how far this sport could take him. “Because in track,” Austin reasoned, “I’m that guy.” He certainly was not in football. Commit full-time to track and maybe he’d make nationals. Dad intervened. Dad thought back to those Mr. Cutback days and stated, point blank, that God put him on earth to play football.

Football would be No. 1. Track, No. 2.

Austin decided only to join the latter during the winter indoor season.

If Glidden was the first at Memphis to believe, Norvell awakened an animal inside.

One day, during his indoor track season, Austin was training at the facility. The Tigers football coach bumped into him, pleasantries were exchanged and Norvell asked how many passes he caught on the JUGS machine. Austin stammered. “Uhh… none.” Norvell didn’t cuss him out. He simply said “OK” and walked away.

“I understood everything he said,” Austin recalls, “by just shaking his head.”

That day forward, Austin religiously worked at the JUGS machine. Next time Norvell asked him this question, Austin answered the next breath: “200.” Without this nudge, no way he’s in the NFL. It’s why he calls Norvell one of the best coaches in the country.

Austin sniffed the field a little in 2018, taking one jet sweep 83 yards to the house in a 66-14 blowout over Mercer. His No. 84 jersey blew in the wind.

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Into 2019, Year 3, Austin caught 17 balls for 315 yards with three TDs and no coaches on the Memphis staff were laughing anymore. He gives love to wide receivers coach John Simon for building on what Glidden started. “He really taught me how to be a football player,” Austin says. “How to be a receiver, how to catch, how to read the nose of the ball, how to get in the stance, how to break down with your arm, how to snap down, how to run routes.” Good timing. The NFL was concurrently reimagining small wide receivers as Tyreek Hill torched defenses from all contours of the gridiron.

At Memphis, Norvell gave credit where credit’s due. During one meeting, he pointed out that Glidden was the one who had conviction from Day 1. And, finally, Austin earned that coveted scholarship.

The next fall, the infamous COVID season, he detonated for a conference-best 1,053 yards and 11 touchdowns. No smokescreens, no gimmicks. Austin rarely ever took a handoff. Austin lined up as the X receiver on the boundary and cooked. His lack of size was no impediment. Scouts considered Austin a potential sixth-round pick — declaring early felt like a good idea to Dad. Especially with the injury risk. This time, son put his foot down. He needed to stay for one more season to play in front of the fans. That was the dream, right? He knew there were undersized kids up in those same stands he once occupied.

Before hitting publish on a post announcing his return, however, Austin heard from Dan Lanning at Georgia. The assistant coach said he talked to Kirby Smart and the Bulldogs had a spot on their roster for him. Further, Norvell was now at Florida State. They wanted him, too. Once upon a time, Calvin Austin III was dying for a flippin’ UT-Martin Skyhawks coach to want him. Now this? He didn’t consider either destination for one second. Instead, he said two words to his Dad: “I won.” The fact that the nation’s top programs were actively recruiting him was victory in itself.

“I’m Memphis ‘til the day I die,” Austin adds. “Nick Saban could have called me and said, ‘Calvin, please come to Alabama.’ I would have said ‘no.’”

On July 1, 2021 of his senior season, college athletes were officially allowed to profit on their Name, Image and Likeness (NIL).

Austin read the news and took the exact opposite opinion of 99.9 percent of his peers.

He told his Dad he didn’t want a dime. He didn’t even want to think about making money yet.

Memphis fans weren’t bailing at halftime anymore. Austin eclipsed 1,000 yards again that 2021 season. And when he pitched his game to NFL scouts, Austin bluntly stated that he eclipsed 1K in back-to-back seasons as a novice. He was still learning the position. After registering a 4.32 in the 40 at the NFL Combine and a broad jump twice his height (11 feet, 3 inches), Austin was drafted in the fourth round.

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All along, his relationship with Dad only strengthened. If he was ever feeling “discombobulated” at halftime, Austin retrieved his cell phone right in the locker room and called him. Other times, Dad would even hurry down from the stands for a quick pep talk. Calvin II didn’t play college ball. But just hearing his voice — “Use your speed! Kill ‘em!” — got Calvin III back on track. Every time. “Because,” he adds, “that’s the voice I’ve always heard.”

Now, he’s a pro.

Calvin III may or may not still tap open his phone to check in with Dad during halftime of games.

After his shining moment — that Steelers TD to beat Baltimore — Austin couldn’t wait to connect. Hundreds upon hundreds of texts lit up the screen. All of those friends and family members could wait. Calvin III called Calvin II.

They screamed. They cried.

These tears were different.

“What can they say now?!” son sniped. “What can they say now?! They can’t say nothing!”

Superpower

Nobody’s holding his hand and talking to him in a kindergarten teacher’s tone about attending a Division III school down the road anymore. It’s time to redefine the New York Giants. Calvin Austin casts a gentile disposition. He’s the man you’d want your daughter to marry. But that doesn’t mean he’ll meekly accept a crammed middle seat in Row 34. He’s dreaming big. Again.

“One thing I’ve come to realize,” he says, “is that my skillset is unique. And my speed? A lot of guys have speed or quickness. I have both.”

He has no worries about touches. If any offensive coordinator wants to win, he continues, you find a way to use your talent. He trusts Matt Nagy will find a way.

Austin has trained with some of the best wideouts in the sport.

“And my speed?” says Austin. “There isn’t anybody who has the speed I do. That’s no disrespect to anyone. It’s confidence. I have gas. And it’s not just vertical speed. I’ve got speed and can decel. I’ve got change of direction. I’ve got a release package. Yeah, we have a ton of receivers. Where do I fit in? I can play inside. I can play outside. And that’s something that people will see.”

Striking clarity for a man who had never run a real route before he could vote.

All adversaries at the line of scrimmage are nameless, faceless. There’s no cornerback Austin doesn’t believe he’ll… “kill,” he jumps in, finishing my sentence. He doesn’t care that his salary’s a few burgers north of the vet’s minimum. Through a four-year career, he’s seen peers in this league overlooked by players drafted higher or paid more money. Harbaugh is known as a coach who does not play politics. Subjectivity will no longer stunt his growth because nobody can declare Austin is incapable of wasting a taller cornerback when there’s 20 clips of him doing exactly that in practice.

What everyone but Dad declared a fatal flaw — his size — is now a superpower.

Take a Steelers-Eagles brawl in 2024. Darnell Washington, Pittsburgh’s woolly mammoth of a tight end, bench-pressed cornerback Darius Slay through the back of the end zone. And after the whistle, from the other side of the field, Austin saw three Eagles players surround one of his best friends. Instincts kicked in. He sprinted over. (“I wasn’t trying to play peacemaker.”) With one jolting two-hand shove he uprooted cornerback Quinyon Mitchell into the back wall and heard one of his favorite sounds in the sport. An audible gasp.

All aggression he traces back to childhood. Calvin III was batted around in all sports by cousins a decade older.

This spring, he compelled new Giants wide receivers coach Chad Hall to rewatch his blocking vs. the New York Jets. He cracked back on both middle linebackers and safeties. (“Stonewalling them!”) His voice speeds up. If anybody wants to understand this whole superpower thing, he advises we watch the All-22.

“I never feel my size,” Austin says. “My Dad cultivated my mindset. I say it’s a superpower because other people underestimate it.
“I’m bringing the force to them! When I get to crack back on a linebacker, that’s when I show my character. People see this. That’s what I feel my superpower is. I get to show my character with my size. ‘OK, watch. Yeah, I’m finna run full speed and not stop and put my shoulder and head into this guy’s chest.’ A lot of guys don’t have that mindset. That’s who I am. It’s my superpower because people wouldn’t expect of me to be the way I am.”

He lists off three fellow bantams: New England’s Pop Douglas, Houston’s Tank Dell and Baltimore’s Zay Flowers. Pound for pound, Austin contends he’s the NFL’s toughest wide receiver. After winning the Ed Block Courage award in Pittsburgh, ex-coach Mike Tomlin praised his grit to the entire team.

Right here, the longtime Steelers coach decreed, is a player who’ll sprint headfirst into a fire.

Austin reminisces fondly at those Steelers days, name-dropping vets who took his game to another level. Diontae Johnson stressed the need to run every route at 100 mph because corners will then live in fear of his speed humiliating them deep, thus opening up routes underneath. He has no clue how the Steelers WR room would’ve even breathed without the leadership of Allen Robinson, whom he calls one of the best receivers of this generation. A foot injury shelved Austin as a rookie. Into ’23, for whatever reason, ex-OC Matt Canada tried to pigeonhole him as a gadget guy. In ’24 and ’25, used as a legit wideout, Austin caught 67 balls for 920 yards with seven touchdowns.

Now, he’s a Giant. Watching Jaxson Dart from afar, Austin told himself he’d love to play with a QB like that. (“I like my quarterback to be cocky, popping it. Let’s go to war with him.”) He’s only getting started with Dart. But the two threw together in Cali before OTAs and Austin already notices a massive shift in personality at quarterback. Rodgers is 42; Dart just turned 23. An age difference this vast manifests on the field. Rodgers is one of the smartest humans, period, he’s ever met. (“He’s too smart almost.”)

Two-way communication with Dart is refreshing.

“With Aaron, he’s a Hall of Famer. You’re going to have to do things how he wants,” Austin says. “With Jaxson, you can put your own little sauce on it. He puts his own little sauce on it. And you can come together to create something. That’s a big thing. I’ll be like, ‘Hey Jax, this dude right here, listen, if he’s on me? I don’t care what they say, throw it to me.’ Or Jax will say, ‘Hey Cal…’”

This is the most dynamic quarterback he’s ever caught passes from, a playmaker capable of hanging in the pocket to let routes develop downfield. Quite the departure from a pair of Canton-bound relics (Rodgers, Russell Wilson) and Kenny Pickett.

A Giants roster that’s been so rotten for so many years is now infused with a quarterback (Dart) who flawlessly executed the Flawda, Rakai and Thriller dances in the end zone after touchdowns, a running back (Cam Skattebo) who’d smash into light poles as kid, an absurdly talented wideout (Malik Nabers) who’s the first Giant to wear No. 1 since Ray Flaherty in 1935 and a defense teeming with pass rushers. One (Brian Burns) is known as “Spiderman.” One (Abdul Carter) had the audacity to request Lawrence Taylor’s No. 56. One (Arvell Reese) is described by ex-pro Chris Simms as a “psycho” who looks at dumbbells and grows muscles. Don’t forget about Kayvon Thibodeaux, either.

Austin — at receiver, at returner — can light the match.

First up, Dallas.

The scriptwriters were kind. Calvin II and Calvin III grew up diehards. When he was 7 years old, Austin recalls the Cowboys playing their best whenever he did chores around the house. So for the team’s wild card game against Seattle that ‘06 season, he helped Dad paint the entire bathroom. All game, they painted. And watched. Painted. And watched. Painted and… oh no. There’s Tony Romo fumbling the hold of a chip-shot field goal with 1:19 remaining. Calvin III owned Jason Witten and Troy Aikman jerseys, knew the team’s full depth chart like the back of his hand and even submitted a question to the mailbag of the team’s website once. There was a player in the arena league that Austin was convinced Dallas should sign.

Now, he can serve as a Cowboy Killer and signal a new era in the NFC East.

Juke a cornerback into the dirt for a touchdown in front of 82,500 fans inside MetLife and everything will change inside this spiritually dilapidated stadium.

“Quick,” he says, nodding. “Quick. … I’m excited. Obviously I played there against Jets, but I mean, who really want to go to the Jets game? I’m ready to go to a Giants game, man. Giants game.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

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Life outside of football is basic. He’s got three American Bullies. He’ll fish occasionally. He’s into nature — Calvin III and his girlfriend love going on walks. This week, he was texting the family group chat that he wants everyone to live on their own compound someday. He’d love to settle down in the country with a ton of land and animals. For now, he cannot wait to immerse himself in NYC and New Jersey. Kids tend to stare at Austin’s stature in astonishment, unable to comprehend how an adult barely taller than themselves can get clobbered on a football field and bounce back up. When Austin posted a goodbye to the city of Pittsburgh on IG, the post received more than 80K likes and 3K comments. It blew his mind. He bonds with fans at a deeper level because he’s so accessible. Austin responds to at least half of his direct messages from total strangers.

Now that he’s in the Big Apple, Austin plans on staying visible. He’ll volunteer any chance he gets. Not the stuff mandated by the team, either. He gives back when no cameras are present.

“I’m not too big or mighty,” Austin says. “That’s what I’m looking to bring to here. Be one with the people. Be one with the fans. I know it gets crazy here and stuff. But we’re all humans. I don’t take nothing to heart. It’s a fan being a fan. If I see that fan, I’ll make them a fan of maybe not as a player, but me as a person.”

The fastest route to the heart of Gotham sports fans is quite simple.

Win.

Pose a simple question — How great can you be? — and Austin refuses to make lavish proclamations because doing so would be a deviation from all sweat and tears that got him here. In his brain, he’s still a walk-on waiting for a sandwich. All he envisions is running crisper routes, catching the ball with more authority, improving. This day, he’s fresh off an extra workout with Troy Pelletier, the man who has trained Saquon Barkley because it never feels right if he doesn’t do something extra. That’s what led to the most significant touchdown of his life.

Once again, he thinks back to that night in January. And Dad.

“Those moments, you can’t replace them,” Austin says. “This was our dream. … If somebody told him, ‘Hey, your son one day, you’re going to be watching him on TV like this and he’s going to have a game-winning touchdown.’ He would have said, ‘Man, get out of here.’”

Austin pauses. Reconsiders.

“Honestly, he probably would have believed it, knowing him.”

That’s why he’d like an outsider to pose that question to his father. Calvin II knew something that hundreds of coaches across the country did not… but what? I ask Dad.

“What they didn’t see in Calvin,” he says, “is his hunger. He’s so hungry. He wants to show the world his talent and that he can do it. Give him an opportunity.”

A few more stray stories from those old football and track days are rattled off. Like his son, Calvin II barely catches his breath.

He bursts with pride.

He sounds like a man who knows precisely what happens next in this story.

“This year, the sky’s the limit for him,” Calvin II says. “I’m telling you, he’s been showing everywhere he’s went.

“He’s going to show in New York, too.”

I want NFL longform

Tomorrow AM: Calvin Austin III's long road to the New York Giants

Tyler Dunne — Mon, 25 May 2026 18:42:14 GMT

Good afternoon! Greetings from the Outer Banks. The Go Long Fam trucked it south for a vacation. Years past, I’ve driven from Western New York, right on through the mountains of West Virginia to North Carolina at night while everyone was sleeping. That can feel something like a video game avoiding deer on the I-77, but not going to lie. It was nice catching up on an audiobook or five.

This time, our caravan of five traveled in the daylight. I can report that all kids were A+.

That doesn’t mean we’ll hit the pause button here at the site. Last week was quiet so I could finish up our next profile. We’ll keep the content humming.

Looking forward to sharing this one.

On Tuesday AM, you can read our piece on New York Giants wide receiver Calvin Austin III. We sat down for 2+ hours over dinner in New Jersey recently.

What an offseason it’s been in Giants Country. Hope is renewed. As we wrote a few weeks back, John Harbaugh and Joe Schoen hit it off over shared scars. The GM then received a new contract. This roster is suddenly chockfull of promising young talent. Jaxson Dart showed signs of being the long-term answer. The defense is loaded with pass rushers. It’s time for this team to win.

What’s missing? A spark. A player who’ll bring life to dilapidated MetLife Stadium.

As we learn, Austin — the hero of Pittsburgh’s win over Harbaugh’s Ravens in Week 18 — can be that weapon. He takes us through a wildly turbulent football life. Nobody believed in a receiver just shy of 5 foot 8. There were snubs. There was mockery. But thanks to a strong relationship with his Dad and unrelenting belief, here he is.

Calvin Austin III fully expects to break out this 2026 season.

Thank you for reading and sharing, everyone.

Refer a friend

ICYMI:

Myth of the franchise offensive lineman

Sat, 23 May 2026 10:01:18 GMT

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Here’s a guest column from my co-host of “Real Football.” Jim Monos worked as an area scout for the Philadelphia Eagles (2000- ‘04) and New Orleans Saints (2005- ‘13) before taking over as the Buffalo Bills director of personnel (May 2013- ‘17). Today, he works for the UFL.

We always love getting his fresh perspective on this sport.

Go Long is powered by you.

Subscribers can access in full.

By Jim Monos

Offensive play is overrated.

Take a breath all football purists. Obviously the O-Line is not completely overrated. Better word may be overvalued. The easiest excuse analysts use when an offense is struggling is “the line is not good enough.” Such a weak and soft analogy. Nobody really understands how hard it is to play offensive line.

The offensive line room is unique. Always has been. Nobody really wants to play offensive line if you do not have to. It can be a miserable existence. You rarely get any credit, you feel underpaid, under-appreciated and every day is physically draining. When you commit to being a top-level offensive lineman, you are committing to living overweight physically and consistently have to fight another man to cash your checks.

No easy days.

Building an offensive line is what needs discussed. I am convinced that taking an offensive lineman in the first round is a complete waste of time unless he is an everyday starter at offensive tackle.

Why the Miami Dolphins slammed the reset button

Tyler Dunne — Mon, 18 May 2026 10:03:07 GMT

New GM. New head coach. New quarterback.

Oh, the Miami Dolphins are also eating nearly $200 million in dead money.

This is an organization long overdue for such a complete reset. Jon-Eric Sullivan, Jeff Hafley and Malik Willis all travel from frigid Wisconsin to South Florida in an attempt to build something special from scratch.

I spent time in Florida on our most recent reporting trip for features you’ll see as training camps close in. Enjoyed two very compelling conversations.

In the meantime, I thought it’d be a good time to catch up of here on Substack for a podcast episode. Kyle does an excellent job analyzing everything Dolphins. We look back at where things went wrong for Mike McDaniel and Tua Tagovailoa after rocketing to 10,000 feet in Year 1 and why it’s smart for this team to cleanse the locker room.

Out is Tyreek Hill, Jalen Ramsey and other highly compensated vets who weren’t particularly the best leaders. Out is Tua.

In are players, in theory, who are the polar opposite on and off the field.

For too long, this roster’s been a mere collection of talent.

Maybe now the Dolphins can build a true team.

We also rely completely on your support.

Thank you for reading, subscribing and sharing with a friend.

ICYMI:

Joe Brady takes charge, Part I: ‘I’ll set my jaw’

Joe Brady takes charge, Part II: ‘They’ve got to play us’

‘My chip is deeper:’ Our 1 on 1 with Bills GM Brandon Beane

May Mailbag, Part II: Which team crashes the party in 2026? A look at the Vikings...

Tyler Dunne — Thu, 14 May 2026 16:12:26 GMT

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On my way to Gate F7 at the Fort Lauderdale–Hollywood International Airport last night, I had to do a double take. Right there — plain as day — was a gentleman in a New York Jets hat.

Still regret not asking him one question: “Why?”

His Jets, of course, own the longest playoff drought in pro sports.

Yet, this sight also represents the beauty of pro football. This is what makes the league unlike any other. One week ago, the NBA held its lottery. With a such strong crop of prospects on tap, roughly one-third of the league actively tried to lose games through the 2025- ‘26 season. Disgraceful, unwatchable, yet understandable. In basketball, clubs must do everything possible to land a singular game-changer. One trudge to 17-65 inches you closer this direction. But odds are, you’ll stink again. In football, conversely, there is real parity. Bad teams can turn it around — quick.

Long ago, owners decided to spread the wealth around to all 32 teams in the broader interest of the league. That helps. And while there’s certainly a team here ‘n there that’ll set its cruise control at 35 MPH by Week 17 and 18 and piss off a star like Maxx Crosby, tanking is no grave concern.

Football, by nature, is a team game. Shaking up the roster one offseason can directly lead to wins. Or, at least hope.

Hope is the NFL’s greatest currency. It’s neatly packaged and sold from February to August. That fella in the Jets hat can dream big dreams. Like, say, eight new starters on defense manufacturing at least one interception this 2026 season.

Woody Johnson will discover a brand new way to poison the well, but there’s always one surprise team out there. Seeing Sam Darnold atop that Super Bowl dais surely was not easy for Kevin O’Connell, but I like how the Minnesota Vikings proceeded this offseason.

Prognosticating which team leaps forward and which team falls back is one topic explored in Part II of the May Mailbag.

May Mailbag, Part I: The Kyle Shanahan Way, Buffalo Bills 2026 weaponry & the NFL's NIL problem

Tyler Dunne — Mon, 11 May 2026 18:53:51 GMT

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Good afternoon, readers.

I hope everyone had an excellent Mother’s Day.

Could spend thousands of words on my own. Little do readers know just how much my Mom does for Go Long behind the scenes — unbelievably selfless, loving, compassionate, drops everything at a moment’s notice to help. I am beyond blessed. We can all agree the mothers in our lives deserve more than one day of our sincere appreciation.

Meanwhile, in sports, I’m still waiting for Game 2 of Sabres-Canadians to start. Let me know when this series resumes. Anthony Edwards is making me eat my NBA hate. Damn, he’s fun to watch. The New York Knicks are apparently an offensive juggernaut. And, of course, Vrabel-Russini photos continue to drop.

A perfect time to mailbag.

The May inbox is full. We’ll divvy up into two parts.

First up, your questions on…

The 2026 Buffalo Bills offense. How will it look different?
NFL Draft. It’s blown up to comical extremes.
NIL. College players make more money than you think. How does this affect NFL team-building?
18 games feels inevitable. There’s one way for the NFL to add another game without being pigs.
Kyle Shanahan’s war vs. the draft consensus brings me back to when I wrote a story that enraged the 49er coach.
Another look into those Bills HC interviews.

Thanks for participating, all. Let’s get to it.

Hey Ty, great stuff as always. The Beane 1 on 1 was interesting.

What do people around the league think of Joe Brady’s scheme and Buffalo skill players outside of Josh and James Cook? Who are they game-planning for on offense?

Derek C

Strong, direct question. You’ve all heard from Brandon Beane and Joe Brady. Each supplied more detail than I was expecting on where the Bills have been and where the Bills are heading. All fine, all dandy.

To your point, Derek: How are the Bills perceived outside of this building in Orchard Park, NY?

People across the NFL have many thoughts.

The Jaxson Dart Plan: State of the New York Giants with Ed Valentine...

Tyler Dunne — Thu, 07 May 2026 17:36:28 GMT

Offseason hope tends to get choked out by regular-season realities for the New York Giants.

Yet with John Harbaugh, there are tangible reasons for optimism. I chatted with some people inside the building for this recent piece. It sure sounds like Harbaugh and GM Joe Schoen are in lockstep — don’t be surprised if contracts get aligned. The two have worked well together.

To take a closer look at the roster itself, let’s welcome Ed Valentine onto the Go Long Pod. Valentine is the man behind Big Blue View at SB Nation and Valentine’s Views on the Big Blue YouTube channel. He always brings strong institutional knowledge and insight as a man who’s covered everything from Super Bowl triumphs to Joe Judge-orchestrated quarterback sneaks.

We discuss this shift from Brian Daboll to John Harbaugh, what to expect out of Jaxson Dart in Year 2 and all of the moves the Giants made around their young quarterback this offseason. There’s logic to follow.

Video and audio is accessible above.

Thanks, all.

We’d love it if you helped grow our community today.