Good evening! The 2026 NFL Season is… here.

Finally.

Perfect time to schedule a Go Long Happy Hour for this Friday night.

All season, paid subscribers can hang out with former NFL coaches and players. Next up? Former head coach Todd Haley will join the program with his co-host on The Pump Fake podcast, Jarrett Bailey. (Loved popping on their show after our Vikings series.)

Haley is a football lifer, of course.

A longtime receivers coach, he was the offensive coordinator on the Arizona Cardinals’ Super Bowl team in 2008, took over as head coach of the Kansas City Chiefs from 2009 to ‘11, and then had a strong run as the Pittsburgh Steelers’ OC ‘12 to ‘17. These days, he’s coaching in the UFL and hosting an insightful program on NFL Radio.

You’ll love talking ball with Bailey, too. (Maybe we can get him going on McAfee’s album again.) When he’s not hosting The Pump Fake, he’s writing at SB Nation.

Subscribers can join our Zoom Happy Hour at the link below.

Here’s our last Happy Hour with ex-Bills GM Doug Whaley, icymi.

See you then.

Ask anything you’d like.

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This marks the continuation of a 2023 series looking at active players and their current situation vis a vis what it was entering the NFL draft. The comments from personnel men were made in the months leading up to the draft for my NFL Draft Series, which dates to 1985. Scouting football players is an inexact science, especially when it comes to off-the-field considerations. It has been said no two evaluators view a player exactly the same way.

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By Bob McGinn

Leonard Williams is more than just a survivor. He has become the ultimate achiever, a defensive tackle in the National Football League with the rare distinction of playing his best a decade into his career.

On Wednesday night, the Seattle Seahawks will begin defense of their NFL championship against the New England Patriots, the team they defeated in the 60^th Super Bowl. Williams, a 12-year veteran, is the centerpiece of what was the NFL’s top scoring defense a season ago.

“He’s the cornerstone of all the things they do on defense,” an executive in personnel said. “Their secondary calls are based upon Williams and his ability to disrupt everything inside. He’s not as wide as a lot of guys but his effectiveness you can’t really measure because he’s such a force.”

The two New York teams, the Jets and the Giants, obviously didn’t see Williams in that light. The Jets, who drafted him high in the first round in 2015, traded him to the Giants in mid-2019, and four years later almost to the day the Giants dealt him to Seattle. The two trades were for draft-choice compensation only, but it was informative that neither deal included a pick in the first round.

The New York clubs liked Williams, but only to a point. The Jets and Giants had their reasons for moving on. The highly-paid Williams had been a solid but not exceptional performer in his 8 ½ seasons on the East Coast.

Talk about benefiting from a change of scenery. Once Williams got to the Pacific Northwest his game took off to the point where now he has reached what NFL teams always knew was an extremely high ceiling. No one doubted his effort in New York, but Williams discovered he had another gear and outlook immediately upon arrival in Seattle.

“I think it just lit a fire within me,” Williams said in August. “It just restored all my energy and love for the game.”

As his age-32 season arrives Williams finds himself awash with professional status and accolades that have never come his way before. Suddenly, he is rated at or near the top of defensive tackles after 10 long years of watching those honors always bestowed on his contemporaries.

In the offseason, ESPN polled more than 70 NFL executives, coaches and scouts to rank the top 10 players at each position entering the 2026 season. The ESPN undertaking, directed by Jeremy Fowler, began in 2020.

Before this year, Williams’ best finish was No. 6 in 2025. This year, Williams jumped all the way to No. 1; it was his first top-5 finish.

“That was amazing,” Williams said. “I think it’s awesome to get that recognition, especially later in my career. I feel like I’ve always trusted and had confidence in the type of player I am. I think having (attention on the) season and our team from going to the Super Bowl has kind of shed more light on individuals as well. It’s an honor to be able to get that recognition from my peers, especially. It’s not a fan voting. It’s something that’s from league executives and coaches and things like that, which means a lot more.”

ESPN’s top-10 after Williams, in order, were Jeffery Simmons, Jalen Carter, Chris Jones, Derrick Brown, Quinnen Williams, Dexter Lawrence, Zach Allen, Milton Williams and Jordan Davis.

One of the stunning elements of the ESPN poll was the fact that last year was the first time Williams had been voted to the Pro Bowl. He had been a replacement pick in 2016 and 2024. Pro Bowl voting incorporates a formula involving the vote of coaches, players and fans.

In all, 19 defensive tackles received votes in the survey by ESPN.

Last week, I ran the names of those 19 defensive tackles by two personnel men asking them if they’d rather have that player or Williams entering 2026. Each selected five players over Williams, so in theory he was No. 6 overall. Vita Vea, Simmons and Carter were taken over Williams by both scouts; the four receiving one nod over him were Jones, Quinnen Williams, Lawrence and Davis.

“I would say he’s top-5 for sure,” said one executive. “He’s had a couple peaks and valleys in his career. Maybe three or four years ago I felt his play was a little more inconsistent. Now at Seattle he’s been a truly dominant player.

“In the run game he can dominate singles and hold up against doubles. He also has the ability to split blocks and get in the backfield. I’ve always admired him for being such a good athlete to get off blockers and make plays.

“As a rusher, he’s a little bit undervalued. He could win with power. He could win with speed on edges. Good with his hands. He’s a violent player. Really a rare athlete for his size. He has the ability to really move down the line of scrimmage and get to the ball.”

Marc Ross, an executive in personnel for more than 20 years with the Eagles, Bills and Giants, was one of four scouts who said Williams’ resume isn’t Hall of Fame quality.

“He’s just a damn good player,” said Ross. “He could be 1, he could be 5 (now). Hard to say who’s the best. He got better with age. He always showed that he was good and had talent, but you see what happened when a really talented guy gets in a situation that is advantageous for him.”

Fifteen defensive tackles have been voted to two or more Pro Bowls since Williams entered the league 12 years ago. That list includes Donald (nine), Jones (seven), Fletcher Cox (six), Geno Atkins and Cameron Heyward (five), Calais Campbell (four), Gerald McCoy, Jurrell Casey, Quinnen Williams and Lawrence (three), and Grady Jarrett, Zach Allen, Jeffrey Simmons, Nnamdi Madubuike and Carter (two). Williams and 10 other D-tackles have been voted to one.

“It’s a great question: is he great, or just a very good one?” said another scout. “I think he’s very good. On the cusp of being great. The first thing you notice about Leonard Williams is his length. Then his get-off, his quickness and his agility.

“When I evaluated him in New York I saw no problems with the guy. It’s, like, then he goes there (Seattle) and continues to do it and now they win a Super Bowl and everybody wants to talk about the guy. It’s sad because he’s had a legit career. He’s got great numbers in terms of pressures. It’s not always about sacks.

“To me, do you have a presence in that middle? Yes, he has a presence in the middle.”

Go Long paid subscribers can access this piece — and all of McGinn’s content — in full. He’ll dissect the NFC North weekly on the Ty & Bob Pod and pen longform columns like this one below all season long.

BASICS

Height: 6-4 ½. Weight: 310 (302 at the combine, 304 at pro day). Age: 32. From: Daytona Beach, Fla.

40-yard dash: 4.95. Vertical jump: 29 ½ inches. Broad jump: 8-10. Bench press: No lift (right shoulder injury). Wonderlic test: 22. Short shuttle: 4.53. 3-cone: 7.59. Arms: 34 5/8 (tied for longest among the top 15 DTs). Hands: 10 5/8 (second largest among the top 20 DTs).

Leonard Williams was born in Bakersfield, Calif., in 1994. He was the third of Aviva Russek’s five children. His mother was a nurse and his father, Clenin Lee Williams III, was a college graduate who worked as a computer numerical control machinist in Detroit after the family moved in Michigan when Williams was about 5.

His parents separated in 2009. During childhood Williams moved from Detroit to Arizona to Daytona Beach, where the family often lived in homeless shelters or a motel.

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Good afternoon! Great news to share here.

I’ve gotten a few inquiries, so it was worth an email alert.

Yes, Bob McGinn is back for more at Go Long.

My former colleague at the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel has been with us since 2021. Nobody has covered the sport quite like Bob. Expect more of the same from our resident Pro Football Hall of Famer — knifing analysis, fresh insights, thorough film dissections.

As it pertains to Bob, as a reminder, paid subscribers will gain access to…

• Ty & Bob Pod. Weekly two-hour dose of NFC North talk. Bob dissects the film of all four teams all season long.

• NFL Draft series. Get the unfiltered analysis from scouts and execs across the country. Good, bad, ugly. McGinn unearths everything you need to know.

• The McGinn Files. Columns on players today… with a sharp look back at how they were viewed out of college.

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Miss any of his stuff last season? Handful of links are below.

Thank you all for growing our community.

Go Long is completely fueled by you.

Draft Series

• Part 1, WR: Who’s the next star wideout?

• Part 2, TE: Kenyon Sadiq and the hunt for matchup nightmares

• Part 3, T: Why Francis Mauigoa ‘n co. may define the 2026 NFL Draft

• Part 4, G/C: Why this is the year to draft a center

• Part 5, QB: The Fernando Mendoza Question

• Part 6, RB: Notre Dame’s Jeremiyah Love? ‘The best NFL prospect in this draft

• Part 7, DL: Secure your space-eater

• Part 8, Edge: Deep 2026 class promises to torment quarterbacks

• Part 9, LB: How should an NFL team unleash Arvell Reese?

• Part 10, CB: McCoy? Delane? Hood? Inside the debate at the top...

• Part 11, S: Why Caleb Downs, a ‘slam dunk,’ is one of the best players in the NFL Draft

• Part 12, ST: The kicking revolution is here

McGinn Files

• The Incomparable Myles Garrett

• Jonathan Taylor, the best running back in football

• Inside the rise of Chris Jones, the Kansas City Chiefs’ mercurial star

• All Jalen Hurts does is win

• Why Matthew Stafford is cementing himself as an all-time great

• Inside the J.J. McCarthy Mystery

Ty & Bob Pod

All episodes archived here.

A few below:

• Ty & Bob Pod S4 E18: Chicago Bears finally run out of magic in NFC playoff thriller

• Ty & Bob S4 E17: Autopsy look at the Green Bay Packers’ wild-card calamity in Chicago

• Ty & Bob Pod S4 E15: Inside a 307-yard Lambeau fiasco, Bears-49ers shootout, Lions unravel

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The 2026 NFL Season is HERE.

No more lists. No more forecasting. We officially have substantive games to gnaw on starting Wednesday night.

You bet “Real Football” will march on with co-host Jim Monos, our resident NFL scout/exec, this fall. Subscribers can expect a full episode each Tuesday. Our goal — always — is to bring you something different. Monos will tap into his experiences with the Eagles, Saints and Bills, while I share reporting stories from the road.

In addition to these weekly shows, we’ve got fun news to share: Expect half-hour Buffalo Bills postgame shows on Substack Live. Monos served as the team’s director of personnel from May ‘13 to May ‘17 and I’ll be around One Bills Drive plenty this season. On these live videos, paid subscribers will be able to hang out with us and ask questions in real time after all games.

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This week, my pal made the trip down to Ellicottville, NY.

We post up at Ellicottville Brewing Company.

Gotta say, as much as I love their signature EBC Blueberry, “The Charge Lager” and “Fan Zone” beers on tap deliver. Highly recommend. If we have readers that’d like to hang out in-person down here in the Southern Tier, let me know.

On this episode, we primarily we dig into everything NFC after last week’s AFC show.

The Los Angeles Rams have constructed a mega team.

Who’s the best challenger?

• There was one grave omission in our 2026 NFL Predictions: the Jaguars. How did we all overlook a 13-4 team?

• How is Sean McDermott taking in Bills games this season?

• Readers asked why in the hell Monos has Matt LaFleur on the hot seat while also picking Green Bay to make the Super Bowl. He explains. (And he still can’t shake that playoff loss).

• Jared Goff doesn’t move. That’s fine. His brain’s sharper than ever.

• Caleb Williams does move and improvise and create as well as anyone. Can he master the other stuff?

• Christian Parker, profiled here, could be the ultimate X-Factor in this conference. If the Cowboys’ defense improves to average, look out.

• You guys know I’ve been bullish on Minnesota.

• Hey, let’s not forget the Seattle Seahawks did win a Super Bowl.

Video and audio is above and accessible over on our Apple, Spotify and YouTube channels.

Once we get the season rolling, full episodes will be exclusive to members. A fine time to upgrade for those on the free list.

Go Long is completely independent because of you. No gambling BS, no ads, no sponsors. Thanks, all.

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2026 NFL Season Preview Features to date…

• Tony Pollard is the NFL’s hidden warrior

• The “Big John” Simpson Creed

• Tate Ratledge feels no pain

• The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

• The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

• ‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

• ‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

• Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

• Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

NASHVILLE, Tenn. — Madness awaits Tony Pollard. Whenever he wraps up work here as the starting running back for the Tennessee Titans, he returns home to his wife and kids.

Four children to be exact.

Four, that is, under the age of four: 4, 3, 1 and 2 ½ months.

“Chaos,” Pollard assures. “A lot of diapers, a lot of bottles.”

No nannies, no in-laws, no close friends at all assist with a single changing or feeding. Mom and Dad handle 100 percent of the parenting. And as Baby No. 4 closed in this offseason, so did the No. 4 overall pick. Pollard had a feeling who his employer coveted, too. Jeremiyah Love, a thoroughbred from Notre Dame, was mocked to Tennessee so relentlessly it’s a shock he didn’t open up a honky tonk on Broadway between Garth Brooks’ “Friends in Low Places” and Blake Shelton’s “Ole Red.”

Pollard isn’t naive.

He acknowledges all the telltale signs of an expiration date nearing.

He turned 29 in April. He has 1,568 total touches on the odometer. This is the final year of his contract. Nothing about the man’s physical stature — 6-foot-nothing, 209 pounds — suggests Pollard is an anomaly who’ll ward off the sharp regression we see from all 30-something backs. He’s a former 128^th overall pick, a hybrid weapon out of Memphis who needed to prove himself on special teams before he ever received meaningful carries on offense.

Everyone’s on notice. This organization is also run by a new head coach with a new direction.

Oh, he fully immerses himself into Dad Life. The second Pollard steps through the front door, it’s on. They ask him to make pancakes on a stick. Or SpaghettiOs. His oldest loves gymnastics. She’s flipping nonstop. He’s a very, very busy father.

Even then… yeah. Pollard cannot lie.

“I heard the noise,” he admits.

A flame was relit. He found himself back in the role he prefers.

“It all put me back into the prime spot to feel like I’m the underdog,” Pollard says. “I’m easily overlooked. So it’s easy for me to get up and get going. It’s easy for me to grind and give my all every day because I know they might not be expecting that from me or they may be surprised by the things that I’m doing. I look at it as motivation.”

Right around 8 p.m. the night of April 23, diapers were put on hold. Pollard nestled into a seat and watched those first few draft picks: Fernando Mendoza to the Raiders, David Bailey to the Jets and then, at No. 3, the Arizona Cardinals selected Love. Tennessee drafted Ohio State pass catcher Carnell Tate. Good news, true, but he didn’t deeply exhale and throw himself a party. Even if the Titans did land Love, he insists the same thoughts would’ve been running through his mind: Earn your spot every day. Earn your respect every day. Earn your position.

An offseason that could’ve re-routed his career was instead reinvigorating.

One bonkers statistic served as the impetus for this trip. Look up the current running backs who’ve strung together four consecutive 1,000-yard seasons and No. 1 is obvious. Derrick Henry is a bionic man who should be studied by our nation’s top health experts ASAP. Then, there’s Pollard. That’s it. That’s the end of the list. Mainly because no athlete in sports is battered quite like the NFL Running Back. Injuries are a guarantee, you’re always deemed replaceable, nor is this Grandpa’s three-yards-cloud-of-dirt NFL.

So… how?

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From afar, No. 20 in powder blue appears remarkably unremarkable. Up close, he’s soft-spoken. The Memphis native who hails from a family of barbecuing extraordinaries speaks in a slow southern drawl. When he repeats the word “consistency,” however, it’s no platitude. It’s a lifestyle. Dive into a four-year streak he fully plans on extending to five and Pollard’s edge crystallizes.

Quickly, it’s clear to see Pollard is part of the solution in Tennessee.

He enjoys being overlooked. He labels himself an underdog multiple times.

Pollard is also a believer that “the cream will always rise.”

“Being confident in yourself,” Pollard adds, “knowing that you’re the best at what you do and even if you may be overlooked, your time will come. Keep chipping wood.”

A state of mind that sure seemed impossible to adopt when his leg literally snapped in half.

This is the best place to start. Back when the streak stood at one 1,000-yard season.

Four years later, he puts himself right back into the Dallas Cowboys huddle.

2022 NFC divisional playoffs. Tied game. First down from the Niners’ 26-yard line with 1 minute and 36 seconds left in the first half. As the crowd roared, Pollard leaned toward Dak Prescott and told his quarterback that if the first and second reads are covered, he’ll be wide open on a checkdown. On cue, Prescott dumped the ball off to Pollard, the back turned upfield and that’s when safety Jimmie Ward grabbed him around the waist and pulled him down.

All of Ward’s weight crashed on top of his left leg.

“I felt my ankle get collapsed underneath him,” Pollard says, “and then I felt something pop.”

He balled up his fists, army-crawled across the Bermuda grass for seven paces and tried to get up. He could not. Utter “shock” overwhelmed all pain. Hell, he barely felt anything. A drop of bad blood still lingers. When I ask Pollard if Ward really needed to drop his weight on top of him that, he’s quick to say “no.” The NFL itself would later cite this play as justification for banning hip-drop tackles. Still, Pollard admits the defender is in a lose-lose predicament because they’ve got to do everything in their power to get backs to the ground. There’s a reason officials rarely enforce Rule 12, Section 2, Article 18.

Either way, the damage was done.

Pollard broke his fibula and tore ligaments in his ankle.

Even as he hobbled into the blue tent and eventually the locker room, the only pain he felt was helplessness. That season, he usurped Ezekiel Elliott as the team’s best running back and made the Pro Bowl. That previous week, his Cowboys sent Tom Brady into retirement. He believes his presence could’ve gotten Dallas to the NFC Championship, then the Super Bowl.

Instead, Dallas lost 19-12. Pollard was a spectator.

“I felt like I let the team down,” he says. “That’s what ate me up the most.”

One moment, Pollard’s dreaming of a playoff run for America’s Team. The next, his leg literally snaps in half and he faces a grueling, monotonous rehab to an audience of one. Such is the shadow war you’ll never see plastered across NFL Network and ESPN. When all hopes and dreams abruptly die, a pro football player’s mental health can suffer. Sometimes, to catastrophic extremes. AJ Green helped drive this conversation into the mainstream after Rondale Moore committed suicide this offseason.

Moore is an extreme, tragic case of a darkness all players fear.

Into the ‘23 offseason, Pollard attacked each day, embraced small wins in treatment and rushed for 1,005 yards. Physically, he was cleared. He told himself, “This shouldn’t be bothering me.” But he was not the same player — not even close — because he couldn’t cleanse his mind and trust that leg. He hesitated. He didn’t fight through tackles like before.

“Once you get injured,” Pollard says, “it can be very mentally, physically, spiritually tough in all aspects of life.

“Some days, I would go out there and run and I’m like, ‘I can’t do it.’ And that’s scary. Because people don’t realize injuries in this league? They can really mess with you mentally. When you know what you can do and what you’re capable of — and then to get on the field and have to tell yourself, ‘I can’t do this right now. I can’t run. I can’t sprint. I can’t cut.’ It hurts to even digest it and accept that.”

The key, he adds, is to maintain a tight circle. Listen to your body.

Not until he got to Nashville, in ’24, did Tony Pollard feel like Tony Pollard again.

A rare threshold for pain fuels his career. He refuses to tap out.

In 2024, Pollard suffered a high-ankle sprain against the Detroit Lions in late October and this hurt far, far more than his leg splitting in half.

“One of the worst pains ever,” Pollard says. “A constant pain that you learn to tolerate.”

Players often think they can simply numb up an ankle, but quickly realize it doesn’t help much at all. Toradol doesn’t do a damn thing, he explains. Not for this. He describes more of a vicious cycle. On gameday, adrenaline powered him through. The morning after? The rehab clock set. It was back to ground zero. He couldn’t put any pressure on his foot at all. Monday to Tuesday to (eventually) kickoff, Pollard lived in the training room to rehab.

Each week, he felt good enough to play. If his ankle was on fire, Pollard headed to the sideline to focus on his breathing, let the pain subside and then sprinted right back into action. His first game off the injury, Pollard plowed ahead for 128 yards on 28 carries in an overtime win over New England.

He finished with 1,079 yards on a career-high 260 carries with five touchdowns.

All for a Titans team on a 150 MPH path toward irrelevancy. They finished 3-14.

“That’s just me,” Pollard says. “I felt like I was good enough to play. I wanted to be there for the team and I wanted to finish the year off strong.”

When he looks around the NFL, he sees peers making very different business decisions.

Pollard never thinks twice and cites DNA as the reason why.

He watched his father, Tarrance, bust his ass 24/7 to grow Pollard’s Bar-B-Q on Elvis Presley Boulevard in Memphis. To this day, it’s hard to get Dad to travel 212 miles east to visit because he genuinely loves working.

Growing up, Tarrance told Tony that if you don’t believe in yourself, nobody will. That wasn’t easy when he broke an ankle into his crucial 11^th grade year and missed four games. He was forced to play a manic game of catch-up. As all of Pollard’s friends raked in SEC offers, he generated minimal interest from small schools.

“Always having that mindset,” Pollard adds, “feeling like I’m the underdog and feeling like I always have a chip on my shoulder. I’ve got something to prove.”

His best offer came from the hometown Memphis Tigers and Pollard did everything. Ran the ball, played receiver, returned kicks. Onto Dallas, backing up a player fresh off inking a six-year, $90 million deal, Pollard hit rewind on Dad’s childhood message. He knew a few dynamic kick returns was all it’d take for the Cowboys to realize he needs the ball on offense. Life always felt a bit odd in Jerry’s World with stadium tours passing by and the owner holding his own press conferences after each game. “It’s definitely different,” he says. Yet, Pollard forced his way into an NFL backfield with a slew of jaw-dropping plays — “put the league on notice” — and hasn’t looked back.

We see what makes Henry special. With these Titans, he’d stiff-arm defenders into Wednesday.

We see Saquon Barkley backward-hurdle fools.

We see Jahmyr Gibbs, dust DBs who seemingly have perfect 45-degree tackling angles.

Pollard’s gifts aren’t so visible to the naked eye. He’s no Adonis. Pollard could blend into any crowd around Nashville. Suggest that he also isn’t a track star with blazing 4.2 speed and he’s compelled to interrupt. Even this self-described “mild-mannered” gentleman must set the record straight.

“I’ve run a 4.2 before,” he says. “I have.”

Fair enough. He’s got better afterburners than we’d think.

The skill that separates Pollard, however, is more nuanced.

We’ve got to look deeper.

Longtime NFL running backs coach Randy Jordan has been with Pollard all three seasons in Nashville. Look up the word “pro” in a dictionary, he begins, and we’ll find a picture of this player. Attitude, effort, intelligence, leadership, how he treats his body. Jordan rattles off all the reasons and then knocks on wood because he doesn’t believe Pollard is close to finished.

In meetings, he asks for the “why” behind every play. Pollard doesn’t want to operate as some sort of robot moving from Point A to Point B. He must zoom out and study the greater picture to see, for example, how the Titans are leveraging defenders out of a 3-by-1 formation.

The more he knows, the more he subconsciously filters that intel into his rushing style.

“He’s seen it all, he’s done it all,” Jordan says. “So he can operate efficiently. And that’s what I think makes him so good. He’s a guy that you watch him run — he runs fucking hard — but you don’t usually get a big shot on him. He knows how to get skinny where he takes his body and torques and squeezes and then he just leaves about this much body surface. Whereas a rookie comes in and he’s fucking running in there and gets blasted.”

Pollard masters the full intent of a play, throttling down to Le’Veon Bell-level patience behind the line of scrimmage when required.

On trap plays, Jordan loves to tell his guys: “Hit it and get it so you say you did it.” It’s fast.

On tight zone plays, the goal is set up defenders on the first level to cut back. One or two extra seconds can feel like an eternity. It’s more of a feel.

“He knows there’s different speeds and tempos when you’re running the ball,” Jordan says. “He can put all that together. And when you look at his body of work, it goes unappreciated because he’s not 6-3, 230 pounds. He’s a guy that just goes about his business.”

The Titans’ No. 2 back, Tyjae Spears, views this ability to shift gears as a superpower because it allows Pollard to strategically place defenders on blocks. He can stay on a track and make everything look the same on a specific play through the course of a game to bait defensive linemen and linebackers into blockers.

One crevice of daylight and he slams his foot into the ground. Gets vertical.

“He attacks it,” Spears continues. “And what’s special about him, he gets skinny. He jumps through holes, he sheds tackles. One of the hardest things to do with Tony is tackle him. The first guy rarely tackles him. So he’s going to squeeze through at least two, three after contact each and every time.”

Take one handoff vs. Cleveland. Pollard stretches a run wide — waits for those dark-brown jerseys to wash down — and turns upfield 65 yards to the house. Defenders are in a bind. You’ve got to respect his speed to the corner, but how much respect is too much? Try to beat him to the sideline and he’s liable to crank the steering wheel.

Pollard never dances, either. His decisions are quick and he can easily rip right through the massive 34-inch arm of a 6-foot-5, 261-pounder like Carl Granderson.

Nobody in team history — perhaps NFL history — accelerated 0-to-60 in such fashion like the player Pollard grew up watching. Chris Johnson is forever immortalized in Titans lore for his ability to effortlessly glide past defenders as if moving at 2x speed. In his second season, “CJ2K” set an NFL record with 2,509 scrimmage yards.

So, Pollard’s reaction to the news that rocked the football world this offseason was the same as your reaction.

On the morning of June 29, he was scrolling on YouTube, saw Johnson’s name, clicked the video and outright refused to believe his eyes. Right there, on Good Morning America, was an athlete with superhero strengths now completely immobile and reduced to communicating through an eye-tracking device. Johnson, of course, is now battling amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS).

“It’s hard to even grasp what’s happening in such a short amount of time,” Pollard says. “I know it’s hard on him and his family. But all we can do now is just pray for them, send our condolences and just try to spread awareness for it.”

At halftime of Tennessee’s Week 1 game vs. the New York Jets at Nissan Stadium, Johnson will be inducted into the team’s Ring of Honor. The man who once treated this same field as his personal NASCAR track will be in wheelchair surrounded by loved ones.

There will be tears. Many tears. Everyone will again see how life can change to the most cruel extremes imaginable in an instant.

Perspective Pollard keeps at the forefront of his mind. Earlier this day, he and Spears were lamenting the dog days of training camp. Some mornings, they’re not exactly in the mood for 90+ degree practices. Some people work at a desk in a climate-controlled office. They crash into other humans.

But then, Pollard took a step back. He remembered it’s a blessing to feel so exhausted. Johnson’s ALS isn’t his only dose of reality. His wife’s brother was born with a deformity that renders his arms and legs useless. To this day, this brother-in-law relies on help to function on a day-to-day basis. And he’s smiling. Always. His spirits never waver.

“A lot of people would die to even be able to work out ‘til they get tired,” Pollard says. “So it helps keep things in perspective and not take things for granted. I’m really blessed that I’m able to walk. I’m able to get up on my own, move around, all of this.”

No way could the draft selection of any player any spring throw him for a loop.

Ahead of April’s draft, Pollard told his coach he was ready to compete if Love joined their backfield.

To Jordan, this player gunning for a fifth consecutive 1,000-yard season works like he’s still on special teams. “He had to fight for everything,” Jordan adds. “He knows the value of, ‘Hey, listen, every day I’ve got to fucking fight to keep my job.’”

A day in his life? If meetings start at 8:30 a.m., Pollard gets into the building by 7 to eat and slip into both the cold and hot tubs to get his mind right. He’ll review all play installs for the day, then head into Meeting No. 1 ready to ask questions. Next, it’s time for a full team meeting. Next, he makes time for Red Light Therapy. The red wavelengths of light help repair skin cells and tissue. Then, it’s time for practice… a lift… more meetings… more walkthroughs… and a return to the chaos at home.

Baby No. 4 needs a bottle ‘round the clock. Babies No. 1 through 3 want to play ‘round the clock.

A difficult combination.

“It’s, ‘Daddy, daddy, daddy, can we do this?! Can we do that? Can we do this? I want this. Can you make me this? Can you make me that?’ So, it’s nonstop.”

Not that he’s complaining. Pollard makes a conscious effort to prioritize his family.

Jordan notices. He sees a young father who doesn’t make football out to be any bigger than it should. (“If the mind’s right and the heart’s right,” the coach adds, “football will follow.”) That’s certainly been the case. With each child, Pollard felt himself leveling up at his day job. It’s no coincidence he’s getting better age 26… to 27… to 28… to 29. A large family demands optimal “efficiency,” Pollard says. Be it those 2’ish hours before bedtime at home or those 2’ish seconds in the middle of wide-zone play, he wastes zero time.

Expectations are low outside of this Titans building and Pollard’s name still generates minimal national buzz. Even locally, he’s overlooked. Fans no doubt miss the days of King Henry stampeding through defenders. Tennessee bid adieu too soon. These cleats would’ve been impossible for anyone to fill.

Pollard doesn’t care. He promises to prove people wrong this 2026 season and, yes, he’s got very detailed statistical goals.

Not that he’ll be disclosing them. He won’t go full Aaron Jones with talk of Canton. Nor will Pollard hint that a three-year rebuild can be three months like Jordyn Brooks with those Miami Dolphins.

We’ll need to see for ourselves, starting next Sunday.

“I’m going to hold it in,” says Pollard, with a brief pause.

“I’m just going to do it.”

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2026 NFL Season Preview Features to date…

Tony Pollard is the NFL’s hidden warrior

The “Big John” Simpson Creed

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

Glover Quin’s rise from the boondocks of Mississippi to NFL All-Pro is instructive for players, too.

This week on the Go Long Pod, I catch up with one of the best safeties in recent memory. Quin spent four seasons with the Texans and six with the Lions in starting 148 straight games. His best season, hands down, came in 2014. That playoff year in Detroit, Quin picked off an NFL-high seven passes. He guides us through them all.

Many war stories are shared. (Once, Quin caught three picks with a cast over his hand. How? He relives it all.)

He played for Jim Schwartz, Jim Caldwell and Matt Patricia in Detroit. Go Long readers may remember Quin’s name coming up back when we reported on life under Patricia. Players were not fans! Quin explains why the ex-Patriot coordinator failed so miserably as a head coach.

In Detroit, Quin also played with Matthew Stafford. We get his thoughts on the reigning NFL MVP.

As for today’s Texans defense — a crew full of savages — Quin offers a take you won’t hear anywhere else.

Nowadays, he’s a father of three and running his own business in Houston: “GQ Frames.” Life is good and he certainly earned every inch.

Video and audio are both above. Be sure to also add the Go Long channel to your Apple, Spotify and YouTube feeds.

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ICYMI:

• 2026 NFL Predictions

• ‘I’m a believer — more than most — in Jordan Love:’ 18-year NFL vet Matt Hasselbeck

• New head coach, new vibes, a title for Lamar Jackson and the Ravens?

• The “Big John” Simpson Creed

Good morning! We have real pro football games one week from tonight in Seattle.

The 2026 NFL Season is upon us.

Glorious.

I’ve gotten a few inquiries, so let’s get right to the news. Yes, Bob McGinn is back. Yes, Jim Monos is back. Both will bring their exceptional football minds to Go Long again. Will be sure to outline exactly what you can expect out of a Go Long subscription this coming Monday. Thrilled for everything ahead.

McGinn is in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. Monos scouted for the Eagles, Saints, Bills and is now a personnel man running the UFL.

Love getting their perspectives on everything to give you something different here.

Let’s take a moment to gaze into a crystal ball, eh?

Here’s how we see this season playing out.

Be sure to rifle off your own takes in the comments, too.

Thank you for making Go Long your home for independent pro football journalism once again this fall.

I want longform.

I want to gift longform.

TYLER DUNNE

DIVISION WINNERS

• AFC EAST: Buffalo

• AFC NORTH: Baltimore

• AFC SOUTH: Houston

• AFC WEST: Denver

• NFC EAST: Dallas

• NFC NORTH: Detroit

• NFC SOUTH: Tampa Bay

• NFC WEST: Seattle

WILD CARDS

• AFC: Cincinnati, New England, Kansas City

• NFC: LA Rams, Minnesota, Green Bay

AFC DIVISIONAL ROUND: Baltimore, Buffalo, New England, Cincinnati

NFC DIVISIONAL ROUND: Detroit, Seattle, LA Rams, Minnesota

AFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAME: Baltimore over Buffalo

NFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAME: Detroit over Seattle

Super Bowl 61: Baltimore over Detroit

NFL MVP: Lamar Jackson, QB, Baltimore

NFL DEFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE YEAR: Will Anderson, Edge, Houston

FIVE BREAKTHROUGH PLAYERS: Boye Mafe, Edge, Cincinnati; Dallas Turner, Edge, Minnesota; Ja’Kobi Lane, WR, Baltimore; Dalton Kincaid, TE, Buffalo; Tate Ratledge, G, Detroit.

FIVE MOST DISAPPOINTING PLAYERS: Marvin Harrison Jr., WR, Arizona; Travis Kelce, TE, Kansas City; Mike Evans, WR, San Francisco; Sauce Gardner, CB, Indianapolis; Jalen Hurts, QB, Philadelphia.

NFL COACH OF THE YEAR: Jesse Minter, Baltimore

NFL OFFENSIVE ROOKIE OF THE YEAR: Jadarian Price, RB, Seattle

NFL DEFENSIVE ROOKIE OF THE YEAR: Rueben Bain, Edge, Tampa Bay

NFL MOST SURPRISING TEAM: Minnesota

NFL WORST TEAM: NY Jets

IN ORDER, FIVE COACHES ON THE THINNEST ICE: Aaron Glenn, NY Jets; Shane Steichen, Indianapolis; Mike LaFleur, Arizona, Dave Canales, Carolina, Todd Monken, Cleveland.

TOP FIVE TEAMS IN MOST YARDS GAINED: Detroit, Buffalo, LA Rams, Baltimore, Green Bay.

TOP FIVE TEAMS IN FEWEST YARDS ALLOWED: Houston, Seattle, Denver, Minnesota, Philadelphia.

NFL RUSHING LEADER: Jahmyr Gibbs, Detroit

NFL PASSER RATING LEADER: Josh Allen, Buffalo

NFL RECEIVING YARDS LEADER: Justin Jefferson, Minnesota

NFL SACK LEADER: Will Anderson, Houston

BOB MCGINN

DIVISION WINNERS

• AFC EAST: New England

• AFC NORTH: Baltimore

• AFC SOUTH: Houston

• AFC WEST: Denver

• NFC EAST: Philadelphia

• NFC NORTH: Detroit

• NFC SOUTH: New Orleans

• NFC WEST: Los Angeles

WILD CARDS

• AFC: Buffalo, LA Chargers, Cincinnati

• NFC: Seattle, San Francisco, Dallas

AFC DIVISIONAL ROUND: Buffalo, Denver, Houston, New England

NFC DIVISIONAL ROUND: Detroit, LA Rams, San Francisco, Seattle

AFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAME: Buffalo over New England

NFC CHAMPIONSHIP GAME: LA Rams over Seattle

SUPER BOWL 61: LA Rams over Buffalo

NFL MVP: Jahmyr Gibbs, RB, Detroit

NFL DEFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE YEAR: Fred Warner, LB, San Francisco

FIVE BREAKTHROUGH PLAYERS: Laiatu Latu, Edge, Indianapolis; Walter Nolen, DT, Arizona; DeMarvion Overshown, LB, Dallas; Tyler Shough, QB, New Orleans; Alijah Vera-Tucker, G, New England.

FIVE MOST DISAPPOINTING PLAYERS: Abdul Carter, Edge, NY Giants; Travis Hunter, CB-WR, Jacksonville; Ashton Jeanty, RB, Las Vegas; Will Johnson, CB, Arizona; Malik Willis, QB, Miami.

NFL COACH OF THE YEAR: Kellen Moore, New Orleans

NFL OFFENSIVE ROOKIE OF THE YEAR: Jadarian Price, RB, Seattle

NFL DEFENSIVE ROOKIE OF THE YEAR: Caleb Downs, S, Dallas

NFL MOST SURPRISING TEAM: New Orleans

NFL WORST TEAM: Arizona

IN ORDER, FIVE COACHES ON THE THINNEST ICE: Aaron Glenn, NY Jets; Shane Steichen, Indianapolis; Todd Bowles, Tampa Bay; Dan Quinn, Washington; Zac Taylor, Cincinnati.

TOP FIVE TEAMS IN MOST YARDS GAINED: LA Rams, Dallas, Buffalo, Chicago, Detroit.

TOP FIVE TEAMS IN FEWEST YARDS ALLOWED: Houston, Seattle, Minnesota, Denver, LA Rams.

NFL RUSHING LEADER: Jahmyr Gibbs, Detroit

NFL PASSER RATING LEADER: Joe Burrow, Cincinnati

NFL RECEIVING YARDS LEADER: Ja’Marr Chase, Cincinnati

NFL SACK LEADER: Aidan Hutchinson, Detroit

JIM MONOS

DIVISION WINNERS

• AFC EAST: Buffalo

• AFC NORTH: Baltimore

• AFC SOUTH: Houston

• AFC WEST: Denver

• NFC EAST: Dallas

• NFC NORTH: Detroit

• NFC SOUTH: Tampa Bay

• NFC WEST: Seattle

WILD CARDS

• AFC: Pittsburgh, Kansas City, LA Chargers

• NFC: LA Rams, Green Bay, Philadelphia

AFC DIVISIONAL ROUND: Buffalo, Houston, Baltimore, Denver

NFC DIVISIONAL ROUND: Green Bay, Seattle, Dallas, Detroit

AFC CHAMPIONSHIP: Denver over Baltimore

NFC CHAMPIONSHIP: Green Bay over Dallas

SUPER BOWL 61: Denver over Green Bay

NFL MVP: Lamar Jackson, QB, Baltimore

NFL DEFENSIVE PLAYER OF THE YEAR: Patrick Surtain II, CB, Denver

FIVE BREAKTHROUGH PLAYERS: Mike Washington Jr, RB, Las Vegas; Colston Loveland, TE, Chicago; Luther Burden, WR, Chicago; Armand Membou, OT, NY Jets; Josaiah Stewart, Edge, LA Rams.

FIVE MOST DISAPPOINTING PLAYERS: Shedeur Sanders, QB, Cleveland; Bryce Young, QB, Carolina; CJ Stroud, QB, Houston; Drake Maye, QB, New England; DeVonta Smith, WR, Philadelphia.

NFL COACH OF THE YEAR: Sean Payton, Denver

NFL OFFENSIVE ROOKIE OF THE YEAR: Jeremiyah Love, RB, Arizona

NFL DEFENSIVE ROOKIE OF THE YEAR: Caleb Downs, S, Dallas

NFL MOST SURPRISING TEAM: Dallas

NFL WORST TEAM: Arizona

IN ORDER, FIVE COACHES ON THE THINNEST ICE: Todd Bowles, Tampa Bay; Todd Monken, Cleveland, Matt LaFleur, Green Bay; Dan Quinn, Washington; Aaron Glenn, NY Jets.

TOP FIVE TEAMS IN MOST YARDS GAINED: Dallas, Rams, Chicago, Buffalo, Detroit

TOP FIVE TEAMS IN FEWEST YARDS ALLOWED: Houston, Denver, Minnesota, Seattle, LA Chargers

NFL RUSHING LEADER: Jonathan Taylor, Indianapolis

NFL PASSER RATING LEADER: Josh Allen, Buffalo

NFL RECEIVING YARDS LEADER: Jaxon Smith-Njigba, Seattle

NFL SACK LEADER: Brian Burns, NY Giants

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2026 NFL Season Preview Features to date…

The “Big John” Simpson Creed

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

The Jesse Minter Era is here for the Baltimore Ravens. We drove down to Maryland to sit down with “Big John” Simpson — that feature is here, icymi. Is this the season Lamar Jackson finally gets to a Super Bowl? To get more answers, let’s welcome on a new guest: Brian Wacker of The Baltimore Sun.

Wacker recently penned this excellent story on new Ravens OC Declan Doyle.

We dig into everything here on the Go Long Pod.

• Minter’s voice, and why it was needed.

• What’s new on defense? (A lot!)

• How is Doyle coaching Jackson? His attention to detail is extreme — in all of the best ways. Jackson, by all accounts, has been receptive, too.

• Where did things go wrong between Jackson and Harbaugh the last couple seasons? Something was clearly off.

• Explosive plays could be in high, high supply for the Ravens.

• Ja’Kobi Lane FEVER.

• Wacker’s concerns with this Ravens roster on offense, defense and special teams. He likes Cincinnati in the AFC North. (Paul Dehner Jr. dissected everything Bengals here.)

Video and audio of this podcast is above.

You can also subscribe to our Apple, Spotify and YouTube channels.

Thanks, all.

Subscribe now

Share

2026 NFL Season Preview Features to date…

The “Big John” Simpson Creed

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

No Micah Parsons to start this season. No Josh Jacobs. And this is all on top of an offseason that saw the Green Bay Packers lose key contributors on both sides of the ball. It doesn’t take Calculus-level math to deduce the need for Jordan Love to elevate from great to superstar in 2026.

There will undoubtedly be more on the quarterback’s shoulders out of the chute.

Pressure ratchets up for these Packers starting Week 1 against a Minnesota Vikings team gunning to contend.

Through our offseason reporting, I caught up at length with former Pro Bowler Matt Hasselbeck on a bunch of topics. This was the one he was most passionate about.

Hasselbeck once backed up a Hall of Famer in Green Bay himself. It’s different. And Hasselbeck expects very, very big things out of Love this 2026 season… with one critical evolution to his game.

Our conversation is transcribed below.

Topics include…

• Why Jordan Love should embrace “the boring.”

• The Packers’ season would’ve been completely different, Hasselbeck explains, if Love simplified things on “eight or nine plays.”

• Slight tweaks in fundaments could take this quarterback to an elite level.

• Who’ll be the best quarterback in the NFC North?

• We chatted before Josh Jacobs was put on the commissioner exempt list. But Hasselbeck offers insight into one schematic change you’ll see in Green Bay’s offense — more inside/outside zone runs.

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Jordan Love waits three years, plays three years. It’s now Year 7. What are you hoping to see out of him this season?

Hasselbeck: He could have a great year this year. I think people have conceded that division to other people and I don’t think that’s wise. The Packers could have a decent year. I think they could win the division. Jordan Love could have a breakout year.

Every year’s different. There’s 21 new playcallers in the NFL this year and I’ve lived through that. It’s not the easiest. Sometimes it works out awesome. It’s an upgrade. And other times there’s a learning curve and it’s not an upgrade. And so I think we’re going to see a lot of guys going through that. The case in Green Bay is you’ve got a guy that understands who he wants to be as a playcaller. He understands what he doesn’t want to be. He’s trying to get back to the fundamentals of what made them great and what quite honestly made the two best teams in football last year great — the Rams and the Seahawks. So I think you’re going to see more of that. I think you’re going to see more of that inside/outside zone and the play-action that comes off of it and then all the stuff that the Shanahan Tree is known for in the passing game. I’m a believer — more than most — in Jordan Love.

What does he do better than anything? If you could pinpoint any trait he has — be it physical or mental — or just what you see as one of the best yourself, what would that be?

Hasselbeck: Typically in the quarterback room, that’s usually not what you do. You obsess with what you need to get better at. And for almost two decades, that was my experience. We obsessed over what we needed to get better at. And usually it was things that some people might think are small, but it was usually a couple things. Maybe three things. Every offseason, we’d attack it. We want to get better in this area.

And I think if I could say what I believe is at the top of the list for Jordan Love — that’s kind of separating him from that next level — it’s just the consistency and fundamentals.

He needs to take pride in doing the boring better. And I think that’s probably the thing that’s sometimes hardest for really talented people. They think they have to do more than they need to do. You just need to do less better, if that makes sense. That is the kind of an offense you can let work for you. And so I think that’s probably going to be a little bit of the mindset that Matt LaFleur and company have with him. They’re going to try to sell him on how he can be great. And I think part of the sell is going to be on fundamentals, fundamentals, fundamentals. It’s not sexy to talk about, but it’s like perfecting a golf swing. Do you want to be the kind of golfer that’s an amazing tour golfer, or you want to be a guy that’s great at a scramble. That’s how I tend to think about it.

With some of his throws he can fade away. And if you don’t fade away — if he stands in there and keep his footwork how it should be — it’s a catchable ball. I’m thinking of the Luke Musgrave ball against Chicago in the wild card. If Jordan stands in there and throws it without fading, Musgrave is either catching it or it’s DPI (on Tremaine Edmunds) and there’s a good chance the Packers win that game.

Hasselbeck: The hard thing — and I lived this — the hard thing is when you follow a great player like Aaron Rodgers, or in my case, I backed up Brett Favre. Both those guys — Aaron and Brett — they sometimes throw the ball with both feet off the ground. And so Aaron has perfected his own way of throwing that I don’t think is a great thing to try to copy. Now, I know there’s some coaches out there showing Aaron Rodgers technique tape. I lived this with Walter Jones. Walter Jones, in my opinion, is the best left tackle that’s ever played football. His technique is so unique to how every offensive line coach would coach the technique. It’s almost not helpful to watch his film because he does things that — he’s so talented — he gets away with them.

It’s just very unique. I think it’s a little bit similar to Aaron Rodgers. He’s a unicorn. There’s a lot you can learn from him and I learned this: There’s a lot that I can learn from Brett Favre. A lot. But the fundamentals and the technique? You’ve got to be really careful with what you try to do there. Sometimes for the guy who comes after him… because your job when you’re the backup of that person is to be exactly like that person. In a lot of ways. That’s all great if you’re never missing open guys. But when you start to miss open guys, then you’ve got to do it the way that the rest of the world would coach you to do it. The way that Matt LaFleur and company would coach you to do it.

I’m not in their offseason review, but I would imagine they can point to less than 10 plays last year: If Jordan Love just does his job better on about eight or nine plays, it’s a whole other story for the Packers last year.

Eight or nine plays, that’s all we’re talking about. If nothing else changes except for you change on eight or nine plays, we have a whole different experience. So that’d be my guess. I think that’s how it usually goes in an offseason. And for a quarterback, it’s such a great feeling when you have a coaching staff who knows what they’re doing at the quarterback position. And that would be my encouragement to him. He has that. And so lean into it. Even if it maybe feels like you’re taking a step back in a sense when you talk more fundamentals and you’re in Year 6 or 7. You’re going to do it to take two steps forward.

Steve Calhoun — his personal coach since high school — he’s been telling him: “Don’t copy Aaron! He’s Aaron Rodgers for a reason. You can’t do this, you can’t do that.” And it’s almost inevitable because that is who you’re watching all the time. I guess you have to consciously think, “OK, stay within myself here. I know I was watching Brett or Aaron, but I can’t do that stuff.”

Hasselbeck: Well, it’s fun. I’ve tried things that I saw Brett do. And I remember having Mike Holmgren call me over and stop me in the middle of individual drill and say, “Hey, get over here. What are you doing? What are you doing?” And I’m like, “Oh, I was just trying something. Trying to copy Brett here. He throws his slant route like this.” It’s like an almost no-look or whatever. And he’s like, “OK, stop. Stop.” Andy Reid had said this to me, but when Mike Holmgren said it to me, it had even more power to me at the time. He said: “Your fundamentals are better than Brett’s. Don’t lose that.” It was like, “Wait a sec, I’m better at anything than Brett? What?” It blew my mind that Mike Holmgren would think that I was better at anything.

And then it was like a splash of water in my face because my very first meeting with Andy Reid ever, he said, “Listen, there’s so much that you can learn from Brett Favre. I want you to study it all. I want you to study his leadership style. I want you to study his command and his offense, his cadence at the line of scrimmage, his energy and body language when he takes a hit.” All these things he was bringing up. And then he after that said, “What I don’t want you to do is study his decision-making and his fundamentals and his technique. He gets away with things that you could never get away with.” And so it all makes sense to me now. In the moment, I felt like I was drinking out of a fire hose. But I also understand how hard it would be to go from emulating and doing everything the way that Aaron does it. And then all of a sudden you’ve got to find that fine line.

Now I do believe Jordan Love’s not a young quarterback and he’s played a lot of football and no one needs to hold his hand anymore. But if you were to ask me to guess what he’s being told this offseason, and if you were to ask me what I know I would tell him this offseason, I do believe that it’s going to come down to, “Here are 7 to 10 plays that if our fundamentals and our technique, we’re a little bit better. If our eyes are better, our feet are better, our accuracy’s better, we’re at a whole other level. And people aren’t talking about that guy, they’re talking about you.” And I think that’s fair. I think that’s legit.

That Bears wild card game is the perfect example because he threw for more than 300 yards, three touchdowns, no picks. On the road. A QB should win that game. And that throw at the end to Christian Watson is insane. He gets blasted and places it right in the hole. But then there’s a couple other ones where if he keeps his fundamentals, they win. The game is not close.

Hasselbeck: Yeah. And I don’t know where people are on Jordan Love. I do think that there’s some unrest with people and they’ve been a little bit spoiled with great quarterback play. And I think they still have a really good quarterback. But I do believe that there’s some people that like to hate on him a little bit. And I don’t know if it’s because of the division and how the division’s gone the last couple years in terms of quarterback play. Two years ago, Minnesota had great quarterback play. Last year, I think a lot of people would say that Caleb Williams had great quarterback play. Jared Goff’s been probably one of the better quarterbacks in that division the last couple years. To me, if I’m in Green Bay, I know there’s a way to coach Jordan Love to get him to have a year where he is the top quarterback in that division. I know that that’s possible. So I don’t know where Packer fans are on that. It’s also possible for it to be Jared Goff again. There’s a lot of possibilities here. But Jordan Love has all the tools, has all the weapons. I think the thing that’s going to be most interesting in Green Bay is that they lost Jeff Hafley. And I know they replaced him with somebody good, but like I said, the new playcaller thing, it’s a real thing. You never know how it’s going to shake out.

Where are you with Matt LaFleur? His scheme, his offense obviously works with the tree he comes from. But he’s been at it for eight years now.

Hasselbeck: I’m a huge fan. I’m a huge fan. I think he’s a great coach. I think he’s a great coach. Every year is different. You spend your offseason, you’re on those whiteboards with your staff and you’re just like, “Hey, this is how we’re going to differentiate.” It’s great that everyone’s running a similar offense, but it also means that they know your offense and you’ve got to come up with wrinkles and you’ve got to decide, “What’s going to be bread and butter for us?” And sometimes your whiteboard ideas, it’s a collaborative effort. Sometimes they’re great. Sometimes they’re not that great. Sometimes you need new blood and new life and new ideas and new energy. And sometimes your staff are guys who are just along for the ride. They’re dead weight. Every year is different. Every staff is different. And then when you come up with your ideas, you have to then go sell your ideas to your players.

And so using Josh Jacobs as an example, you’ve got to sell him on the fact like, “Hey, we are going to be an inside/outside zone team. And we are going to sprinkle in the gap schemes like power.” You’ve got to sell him on why that’s best because he might say, “Hey man, I’m a bruising downhill running back. I’m a gap scheme power kind of guy.” And that was something that we had to do with Marshawn Lynch when we first traded for him. We traded for him in October in 2010. We had hired Alex Gibbs to be our O-Line coach. We were going to be an inside/outside zone team. Inside zone, mid-zone, outside zone. And we were going to change it up rarely with power. And we get Marshawn from Buffalo. He was like, “I run power. I’m power running back.” It was almost like he just liked the sound of that — “power.” And inside zone was some sort of finesse thing he wanted nothing to do with. And it was a process to get our coaching staff to sell to Marshawn the value of inside zone and play-action off of zone footwork and all the stuff. And it took a bit. It took a bit for Marshawn to become Marshawn. And he had the Beast Quake run that game, but his stats were not shaking the earth that year. And it wasn’t that he wasn’t a good player, but some of it is a sell job of the coaching staff.

Pete (Carroll) wasn’t coaching the offense, but he was very much involved in the sell. And he did a great job with Marshawn. But I think part of the job of the head coach — and the whole coaching staff — is you’ve got to sell to your players, whether it’s wide receivers or running back: “Hey, here’s my vision for our offense.” Literally, you should go in and be like, “Kenneth Walker Jr. was the MVP of the Super Bowl. He has a Super Bowl ring and an MVP trophy. That could be you. That could be you. And here’s how we do it.”

Whether it’s wide receiver, O-Line, quarterback, passing game with running backs, you’ve got to sell these guys on the vision. And that’s part of the leadership of the quarterback as well. I heard Tom Brady saying with wide receivers in particular, he sees a lot of these wide receivers complaining and blah, blah, blah, throwing hissy fits. And he basically was like, “I never really dealt with that.” Because he said he was really good at getting with the wide receivers and saying, “Hey, there’s going to be games where you catch 11 passes and there’s going to be games where you catch three passes and you’re going to be open in both of those games about the same. But because it all has to fit globally with how we’re playing the game, offense, defense, special teams, all this, just know our goal is to hoist Lombardis and just know my goal is for you to have 100 catches at the end of the year. But it might be 11 and it might be three. I need you to stay with me. I need you to trust and I need you to see the vision.”

I do believe strongly that Matt LaFleur has that in him. That vision, the smoothness to sell it. I don’t know Jordan as well, but I would imagine that’s part of what his game is now, too. He’s not just one of the guys. You’ve got to kind of be The Guy selling that vision.

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2026 NFL Season Preview Features to date…

The “Big John” Simpson Creed

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

OWINGS MILLS, Md. — Long before he was the 6-foot-4, 330-pound colossus handpicked to make the Baltimore Ravens malevolent again, John Simpson was a kid from North Charleston, S.C., whose father was in prison and whose grandfather had just gotten out. The generational curse was real. Drugs were everywhere. Guns, too.

Something inside him stirred.

He cannot pinpoint the biological mutation, but one vivid image comes to mind.

Hanging out with his younger cousins, something inspired him to be “different.” They were into drugs. They knew exactly where this life led: prison or six feet under. Everyone in the Simpson family tree — for years — could clearly see the consequences of living the fast life with their own damn eyes. Nobody needed to theorize. His grandfather was a testimony.

“How can you see this and then still want to be in it?” he’d wonder. “Some people just don’t get it. It’s hard. I feel the same way about my little brother. It’s like, ‘Bro, we all grew up in the same thing. How can you just follow that shit?’ It doesn’t make any sense to me.”

We’re seated on an outdoor bench outside the Ravens’ castle of a practice field. “Big John” — seven-year vet, husband, gregarious father of two — is a gentle giant. Throughout this conversation, he laughs. And smiles. And exudes optimism. This topic, however, summons irritation. He doesn’t claim to author an elaborate “blueprint,” and that’s the problem with lemmings who line up to sell drugs like everyone before them in his old neighborhood.

Too often, people make it seem as if they’re sentenced to this grim lifestyle in perpetuity.

Stuck, with no way out.

What a horrible way to think.

“Bro, it’s not impossible,” Simpson says. “A lot of people think that it’s impossible. Life is hard and they make it hard on themselves because they choose the fast way. Everything doesn’t need to be fast. For me, I keep my head on straight and try to be the best version of me every day. Putting one foot in front of the other and take — not the easy way — but the most effective way.”

The mental calculation is strikingly basic. Every dream, to him, is attainable through hard mothereffin’ work.

All anyone must do is embrace this reality. OK, so you were dealt a terrible hand. Does that mean you outright concede defeat? Quit on life? It’s easy to bitch and moan and claim that guy had connections or this guy had the right genes. Alert: Life itself is not fair and — guess what? — life will never be fair. A word like this (“fair”) makes a hyper-driven individual like this (“Big John”) cringe and shake his head because he knows it’s a cop-out excuse people in all walks of life use to loaf.

All hours spent overanalyzing alleged “fairness” is time wasted incinerating your own prospects of success. You atrophy. Bring up sermons from Andy Frisella and David Goggins on the subject, and he nods. That’s his life personified.

Simpson had every conceivable reason to cast himself a victim — a helpless, hapless casualty of a broken world. The two most important men in his life spent time behind bars. Friends have been murdered. He didn’t have a mentor holding his hand every step of the way. Instead, he outright refused to accept preordained destitution. All pioneers in all industries cite insomnia, relentlessness, buckets of perspiration as the foundation for their success.

An alarm blares and they’re overwhelmed with the urge to kick the collective asses of anyone standing in their way.

John Simpson can hear that noise. He’s back in Baltimore.

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These Ravens have been loitering at the championship doorstep for most of the last decade. Lamar Jackson and Derrick Henry are unicorns who’ll don gold jackets one day. John Harbaugh is out, Jesse Minter is in. To go the distance, this organization knows it must re-embrace its belligerence. What’s needed is a player unafraid to speak and play in blunt terms. Originally drafted by the Las Vegas Raiders in the fourth round of the 2020 draft, Simpson spent the 2023 season in Baltimore and lived through a gutting home AFC title loss to Kansas City before spending two seasons with the terminally ill New York Jets.

He was brought back here to displace other 300-pounders in the trenches and mold minds in the locker room. Everyone should listen.

“I talk to a lot of the younger guys,” Simpson says, “and just tell them to keep going, man. Keep your head up. Shit’s hard. Shit’s going to be hard. That’s life. And it’s a part of it. Every day you wake up, you’re going to have that like… ‘Fuuuuck.’ But fuck that! How are you going to approach today? You can either approach it like that or you can come in with a great attitude every day and give your best.”

One message plays on repeat. Simpson tells everyone to embrace “every moment.”

Don’t stress over the bigger picture. Don’t obsess over the Super Bowl.

Do focus on the one specific task in front of you. Do embrace the suck because, over time, all of those moments will add up and you’ll love where it leads.

That’s exactly how he chose to grow up.

He didn’t watch peers sell drugs, get a nice car and view this as an attractive option.

To him, there’s no such thing as pushing a button and getting rich in life.

He relished the long game.

“My Dad showed me what not to do, what not to be like,” Simpson says. “Obviously selling drugs and all that stuff — where I was at? — it was easily and readily available if you wanted to go that route. But bro, I want to be great outside of the shit that’s the normal everyday life.”

First, explore his old neighborhood — Dorchester-Waylyn — in North Charleston. Crime was rampant. The sound of gunfire blended with horns blaring and birds singing.

There was rampant poverty, theft, depressing sights everywhere.

“You’ve got junkies — crackheads — and shit like that all over,” Simpson says. “You see it all the time. It was everyday life for me. Not really knowing too much different. It was definitely shitty. Shitty. And it’s eye-opening now to be where I’m at. Like, OK, that’s not how life is supposed to be.”

Take one trip on the city bus, Simpson’s mode of transportation in high school. One day, an elementary-aged kid bounded onto the bus in glee. He was overjoyed with a new toy he had found in the woods. “Look what I found!” he yelled. It was a gun. Simpson stepped in to safely put the gun away.

He didn’t see cartel members behead people in the street — like Dolphins center Aaron Brewer — but police often needed to block off his street to examine dead bodies. Many days, Simpson was told to stay inside his home in the name of safety. “I’ve seen some shit dog,” he says, pausing. “For me, it was more hearing it than seeing it.” Top of his head, he can count five times gunfire spontaneously broke out and he dove behind a vehicle to take cover.

Simpson kept a small circle of friends growing up. Calls himself a “popular loner” those days. Everyone wanted to be around him, everyone knew he was going somewhere. But he turned down so many invitations to parties that Simpson is positive peers at Fort Dorchester High School thought he was “weird as hell.” Simply, he never wanted to jeopardize football. He heard his coach say that whoever got into a fight wouldn’t play and decided, right then, to mind his own damn business 24/7.

People could try him if they wanted. No way would he retaliate.

One party he did attend scared the bejesus out of him, too. A fight broke out inside the house, spilled outside and… you guessed it. Guns were drawn. Bullets, sprayed. Simpson bolted home.

“Shit got real,” Simpson says. “I was like, ‘Yeah, I’m not going to no more parties, dog.’”

One comprehensive 2017 series in The Post and Courier illustrated why the Waylyn and Terrace neighborhoods in North Charleston are teeming with gun violence and the problem has only exacerbated over time. In 2021, the city’s police department reported 36 homicides. Numbers alone fail to tell the tale. Simpson can point to specific childhood friends who could’ve made it with a different frame of mind. Kids like Kharee Whitley. They played little league football together, then basketball in eighth grade. “That was my dog,” Simpson adds. “My dog.” Their paths gradually diverged — Simpson toward sports, Whitley the streets — and the news rocked his world.

One Sunday afternoon in July 2019, on the 5300 block of Albert Street in North Charleston, Whitley was shot dead. This shooting marked the 15^th homicide investigation for North Charleston police that year.

“Somebody robbed him,” Simpson adds, “and they killed him in the process.”

Simpson’s home life wasn’t any better than anyone else in his neighborhood.

He, too, should’ve been ensnared.

His grandfather, John Simpson Sr., got out of prison in 2000. John III was three. And when he got out, John Sr. was determined to be a better man for his 11 grandchildren. He started his own lawn care business and relayed valuable lessons, impressing on his grandson the need to work hard and excel in school. In the summer, he’d then take him to North Carolina to see his father behind bars: John Simpson Jr.

Always a sobering trip. Dad was in and out of prison for selling drugs most of his childhood.

When John Jr. finally got out for good, his son was 13 or 14 years old. A relationship between the two technically exists but Simpson admits that he keeps his Dad at “a respectful distance.” Scars remain. He wanted a father as a kid and a father was nowhere to be found. Instead, Simpson was mostly raised by his mother and his Dad’s Dad. “Weird at first,” he adds. “My Dad was a little salty about my granddad being there more than he was.”

His mother, Keyonna Snipe, worked the third shift on the assembly line at Cummins Turbo Technology. Only recently did she retire from this job, and she still cannot stop moving. Snipe cooks food, sells food. “A beast,” Simpson adds. She refused to ask for any help raising her two boys.

Seeing her sacrifice every available second to give them a decent life instilled the same instinct in him.

“She was a dog,” Simpson says. “Obviously it was hard on her. She did everything she could to give us what we had.”

Into his teen years, Simpson became the man of the house. At 15, he started working at Halls Chophouse through an outreach program, “Teach the Need,” to bring home extra dough. He’d even get in hours after his Friday night football games. Simpson bandaged up his bruised and bloodied hands, never complained, and got to work.

Football, of course, was his sanctuary. Football was where he could unleash all anger bottled up inside. But mostly? Football is where he learned life’s greatest lessons. Simpson loved zeroing in on the smallest, most nuanced details to execute a play, working with others toward a common goal and testing the limits of body and mind.

“I was never the type to give up on myself,” Simpson says. “Whatever it was going to be, I was going to be successful at it. If it was going to be the military, this football shit, whatever. If I was working at a damn car dealership, I would have been the best car seller. So it was having that mentality.”

Simpson seriously considered joining the military, too. He was all about Army ROTC. Once those Division I college offers started to pour in, he switched gears. But the structure of military life appealed to him. That’s who he is to his core, and that’s why he got married at 23 years old. Simpson knew Aliyah — a biochemistry student, a future M.D. — was the headstrong woman he needed in life. From Clemson to the NFL, Simpson was out to change everything the name on his jersey represented.

“Flip the script,” Simpson adds, “and not be anything like the people that I grew up around.”

Take a moment to revisit the infancy of these Baltimore Ravens and you realize Simpson is exactly where he should be. Five years ago, I chatted with Hall of Famer Ozzie Newsome at length for “Blood and Guts.” When Art Modell left Cleveland for Baltimore (in November 1995) and named Newsome de facto GM (in February 1996), the former tight end essentially started from scratch. Calling the franchise “bare bones,” as he did, is a remarkably kind assessment.

Baltimore didn’t have a team name, team colors or a functional team headquarters.

Twelve years had passed since the Baltimore Colts departed in Mayflower Transit moving trucks overnight.

Since then, the Colts’ old facility had been transformed into police barracks.

When the Ravens moved into town — and the building was flipped back into football shape — Newsome’s crew found old bullet casings on the field where the police academy had done pistol training. On March 29, the team finally had a name. The “Ravens” won via city vote. One week later, a small group that included Newsome, Phil Savage and Kirk Ferentz got to work inside this rectangular-shaped bunker of a facility. They told themselves “it’s not the walls, it’s the people within them.” But then they looked at those walls, and… damn. It was humbling With no shelving available, the men building the Ravens stacked up about 3,500 VHS tapes around the perimeter.

“We had a mountain to climb trying to get this franchise moved,” Newsome recalled. “It was a monumental task, but when you have a good team of people working with you — and everybody working toward the same goals — you can accomplish things, and that’s what we did. We started from scratch and we built it. And we built the way we wanted it to be built.

“Guys rolled up their sleeves and we went to work.”

With the No. 4 pick, Newsome selected UCLA tackle Jonathan Ogden over the player Modell coveted: troubled running back Lawrence Phillips. Simply, he stuck to the board. Ogden was their No. 1-rated prospect and he knew he’d lose the confidence of all scouts on staff if their first pick defied their hard work.

With the 26th pick, Newsome then selected Miami (Fla.) linebacker Ray Lewis.

The two combined for 23 Pro Bowls and were first-ballot Hall of Famers.

The Ravens took on Newsome’s personality in Year 1, Draft 1 and never looked back.

Life is different in 2026. The Under Armour Performance Center is affectionately known as “The Castle,” and Go Long can confirm the nickname is justified. There’s not a bullet casing to be found at this majestic 33-acre complex. One sight, however, has not changed. Newsome, who stepped down as GM eight years ago, remains a strong presence. He watches each practice. He consults with GM Eric DeCosta. He’s a 70-year-old sage on daily patrol. The soul of this organization endures.

These Ravens are at their best balling up a proverbial fist and cold-cocking the opposition in the mouth. Each collision must inflict maximum damage. That’s Simpson’s game. “Nasty,” the left guard adds, “on each and every play.” He talks shit. He says things that invite literal punches to the face. Unprompted, Simpson brings up the name Trysten Hill. Back in his Raiders days — after a 36-33 win — he strutted past Hill at midfield and said something obscene enough to warrant a haymaker to the head. His silver helmet went flying. A scrum broke out. This was the culmination of the two jawing all game.

“It definitely got personal,” Simpson says. “I don’t know if I can go into details.”

These Ravens are also talented enough to vault themselves right back into high-stress playoff games.

When the margins are razor thin, when nerves can spike uncontrollably, Simpson’s perspective is needed most.

“There’s always going to be times where you’re uncomfortable,” he says. “But how are you going to operate to get yourself out of those situations? How are you going to perform on this football field in front of all these people that are watching you? Be calm. Be in the moment. Be present in the moment. It’s not focusing on the big picture and not trying to do too much at once.

“Make every moment matter.”

He’s most passionate on this topic because this is the formula to win in football, in life.

“You might not win every rep, but you come back and you try your hardest and do the same shit over and over and over again and you’re going to get great results. Nowadays, we try to rush to the Super Bowl. But that’s not how this shit works. It’s a journey. Everything’s a journey. So you’ve got to embrace everything. Today was a great day. Embrace every day you come out here and step a foot on the field. Find joy in everything you do.”

Not easy. One bad bounce tends to decide the fate of this team. The last three season-enders have been particularly disturbing. 2023. If Zay Flowers doesn’t fumble at the goal line against the Kansas City Chiefs in the AFC Championship Game, perhaps Baltimore is in the Super Bowl. 2024. If Mark Andrews doesn’t have a fourth quarter from hell in the AFC divisional round — one fumble, one drop — the Ravens get their shot at Chiefs redemption the next week. 2025. If Tyler Loop connects from 44 yards in Week 18 against Pittsburgh and the Ravens win the AFC North, is John Harbaugh fired? Baltimore might’ve won a playoff game. Or two.

All players who lived through such misery certainly wished they could slam a fast forward button back to January.

After the ‘23 loss, Simpson buried his head in his hands on the bench.

Yet, Simpson knows the worst thing any pro can do is obsess over the next do-or-die playoff moment.

“Everything,” Simpson says, “leads up to something.”

This contrasts the latest evolution of our species. Err, devolution. Homo sapiens have taken a lazy turn the last 10 to 15 years. Anyone can press a button for anything they need. Hungry? Place an order on DoorDash and keep your ass fixated on the recliner. Going somewhere? No need to drive and carefully follow directions. Call an Uber. Seeking a mate? No need to court a woman on a date and seek a meaningful relationship. Young men are hooked on porn and old billionaires can’t stop soliciting prostitutes.

Delayed gratification — patience — is becoming a lost art.

Those who grasp this concept have a striking advantage over their peers.

Simpson never envisioned an NFL pot of gold on the other side of a rainbow. He lived an honest life, made daily deposits and earned this dream life.

Off the field, Dad life is beyond rewarding. The Simpsons have 2-year-old and 10-month-old boys. Both are albino. Both parents shared the same gene, so there was a 25 percent chance of albinism during the first pregnancy and a 6 percent chance on the second. “It’s got to be something in the water,” Simpson says. “God knew what he was doing.” Simpson dubs himself an overbearing father. He’ll be the father he never had.

The way he sees it, this stage of life is fleeting. He needs to be with them every free second.

“For me growing up,” Simpson adds, “I know what a kid would want.”

So, one day, he’ll also talk to young kids who lack a father figure in their life. His major in college was sociology. If Simpson never made it to the NFL, the plan was to get into social work. Simpson doesn’t view himself as “mentor.” Rather, a voice. He’ll share his story, offer wisdom and leave the rest up to whoever chooses to listen. Kids will naturally take heed or think he’s full of it. He wants to speak to the kids that want to be spoken to.

Until then, Big John is the missing piece on a contender.

“They brought me here for a reason,” Simpson says. “And that’s to improve the trenches and bring nastiness back and instill into the younger guys behind me or beside me: ‘Yo, we’ve got one goal and that is to impose our will on the person in front of us.’ I truly believe every moment matters. Every little thing matters to get you to where you ultimately want to be.”

Which is obviously Super Bowl XLI in Inglewood, Calif.

A quarterback this talented shouldn’t go a decade without reaching the sport’s grandest stage. X’s and O’s are secondary. Lamar Jackson has won two MVPs in two different offenses. Personnel is no problem. Baltimore is loaded. Please, go ahead and doubt 32-year-old Derrick Henry. Up close, he still resembles a genetic freak.

The missing ingredient is something more difficult to quantify. Both owners in Buffalo and Baltimore hired young coaches to usher in a fresh vision.

Eleven-year vet Ronnie Stanley has only known Harbaugh. He, too, cites the “little things” as the difference between being great and elite. He believes the coaching change should help.

“For it to be like a culture-wide thing,” the left tackle says, “it takes a lot of conscious effort, conscious awareness of what is the focus, what are we trying to value here. Our mentality. The whole thing. I think trying to separate yourself amongst the best — there are very few things that can be differentiators and that is one of those things that can make a difference.”

Ultimately, it’s up to the players. These aren’t pixelated figures on a telestrator.

Simpson understands human beings are the most complex organisms on the planet. You have good days. You have bad days. He’s a prime example himself. At the start of training camp this summer, he got into his own head overanalyzing everything. Again. This has been a problem since Simpson thought he was going to be a starter for the Raiders and got benched. He acknowledges that it gets to the point of anxiety and borderline panic attacks.

“Every camp, I go to this place of trauma,” Simpson admits. “I’m like: ‘Fuck, let’s lock in, let’s lock in!’”

Then, Simpson takes a deep breath and realizes such hyper-, hyper- intensity is not his game.

He keeps it light, has fun, brings people together.

“I can get to that point of super seriousness,” he adds. “But that’s not who I am. So I’ve got to come out here and show the guys that surround me: ‘Yo, he’s got my back no matter what. We’re going to have fun with this shit and whoop some ass while we doing it!’”

That’s the objective this season. The man who refuses to think too far ahead — briefly — allows himself to dream. He can’t help it. When he’s finished with football, his family will live on a lake somewhere with 10 acres of land and five horses. John Simpson is taking the family name a bold new direction. That’s exciting.

As for this 2026 season? Yeah, he can only contain his excitement for so long.

“This year,” Simpson assures, “is going to be fun as hell.”

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2026 NFL Season Preview Features to date…

The “Big John” Simpson Creed

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

NASHVILLE, Tenn. — Greetings from the country music capital of the world. Dolly Parton’s death has certainly cast a pall over this magnificent city. Has anyone drawn such universal praise? The one thing everyone from all walks of life can agree on is that Dolly was the best. RIP.

I spent some time around these Tennessee Titans for stories you’ll see in the future.

Cannot wait to share.

Until then — like we did with the Bills and Ravens — here are some quick thoughts…

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The Ward-Daboll Dynamic

One quote from one source inside the New York Giants’ building sticks me watching practice here. This person very familiar with Brian Daboll’s coaching style was fascinated by the new union in Tennessee because, in his words, Cam Ward “will bark back.”

We know “Dabes” brings the fire, the passion, all emotions 24/7. It’s one of the main reasons he was so beloved as the Buffalo Bills offensive coordinator — especially where it mattered most. He forged a father-son relationship with Josh Allen. To this date, the MVP quarterback would be the first to say he’s indebted to Daboll. There are teammates who believe those Bills would’ve won a Super Bowl (or two) if their OC was the head coach.

After winning Coach of the Year in Year 1 with the Giants, however, the L’s piled up and he was fired.

Buffalo interviewed him for the top job this offseason, and chose Joe Brady.

So, Daboll took his next best offer. As the Titans’ new offensive coordinator — under head man Robert Saleh — he’s got to have the same Midas touch with the No. 1 overall pick in the 2025 draft. Work magic with Ward and, like Saleh, he’ll get a second chance at being an NFL head coach.

It didn’t work out in New York for many reasons. The contrast in the personalities of Daboll and Daniel Jones ranks near the top of the list. These two were oil and water.

So, sure. I get the early concern here in Nashville. This hasn’t been a pretty summer for the offense in practice or the exhibition games. The growing pains are real. But here’s thinking the union has a shot to work because of the two personalities involved.

No words will be minced. Transparency will reign.

“They were meant for each other,” Titans running back Tyjae Spears says. “They’re a perfect match for each other.”

The dynamic isn’t too different than the one we analyzed in Minnesota. Coaches who had Kyler Murray in Arizona insist you’ve got to be (very) vocal and (very) profane with this quarterback. That’s the style Murray desires. That’s what takes him to a different level. (“You’ve got to say: ‘Hey motherfucker, throw him the ball.’ And he had that with us,” one ex-Cardinals coach told me. “Kyler wants to be challenged. He wants to be coached. He wants you to push the envelope with him.”)

Getting to this place requires a conscious effort beyond the practice field.

That’s a strength for Daboll. He wants to know the person before the player, and took six months doing that with Ward.

Last season was a disaster. Head coach Brian Callahan was fired six games in and the QB’s supporting cast was decimated. Ward supplied enough wow throws to entice Daboll to take the job, and then Tennessee signed Wan’Dale Robinson in free agency and drafted Carnell Tate. What makes me think Ward still has a realistic shot to succeed is everything we don’t see on the practice field. These are two solution-driven, extreme competitors who won’t get into their feelings. Jones, conversely, could get a bit too sensitive in New Jersey.

The days of this AFC South being a color-rushing laughingstock are over. Houston brings back the NFL’s best defense, Jacksonville Jaguars went 13-4 and let’s not forget Jones had Indianapolis at 8-2 before injuries hijacked their season.

There’s risk in the schematic fit. Daboll spreads the field out and encourages the quarterback to attack vertically. Ward is a gambler. Nate Tice and Matt Harmon made those X ‘n O points here on their Yahoo podcast. Their breakdown makes a lot of sense.

Perhaps, however, it’s time for a franchise that’s gone 6-28 the last two seasons to play with play fire.

There’s a reason Ward was the first player picked in the draft.

There’s a reason Daboll’s Bills lit it up.

I like the fact that both are Type A’s who won’t hold a damn thing back.

If we learn anything from the new Vince Young doc on Netflix, it’s that no young quarterback has a chance if he’s not in-sync with his coaches. This is forever a relationship business.

Here’s how Spears describes his quarterback:

“A great leader. A go-getter. Very confident. And one day he’s going to win big. He’s going to win real, real big. It’s who he is and he shows up. And that’s a good thing about him, too. He shows up consistent every day. He’s a great leader because he’s got to lead a forest, and that’s us.

“He was born to be a winner. He was born to be a leader.”

If the lights turn on in 2026, Daboll will be the catalyst.

Players appreciate his style behind the scenes. To the OC, communication and honesty is a two-way street.

“Dabes is a great leader, great man. Great man,” Spears says. “The way he approaches us, the way he respects us, the way he communicates with us. When he’s wrong, that takes a lot. When a man will come to you in their face and tells you when they’re wrong or tells you some things that they need to improve on? It takes a lot because a lot of people don’t have enough balls to say that. He always steps in. If he did something wrong, he’s the first one to let us know. Is he going to let us slide for the shit we do? No, he’s going to call us out, too.”

Also: On this week’s episode of “Real Football,” we discuss and debate Brian Daboll’s impact in Buffalo and what’s next.

What did NFL scouts think of Cam Ward out of college? Here’s Bob McGinn’s QB piece from the 2025 draft series:

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Saleh’s Defense.

Here’s a fun game. Pull up any San Francisco 49ers game from late last season and try to name three players on defense. Robert Saleh guiding this motley crew through 12 wins might’ve been the single-best defensive coaching job of the 2025 season.

Expect the Titans’ defense to fight. Despite all unknowns on offense, Saleh’s presence alone makes me think the floor is seven wins. He’ll win a few games the Titans have no business winning.

Plays were made all over the field at Tuesday’s practice. Alontae Taylor, Kevin Winston Jr., Mario Goodrich III and Tony Adams all picked off passes. Nothing was easy for the No. 1 and No. 2 offensive units. Saleh’s fingerprints on this defense are evident. Guys break on the ball, finish plays, swagger all over the field. One early indicator for a defense’s identity is how aggressive cornerbacks are in the run game. These Titans corners are clearly willing tacklers.

It’ll take time. Tennessee needs pass rushers.

But they’ll have an identity this fall and that’s a start.

Saleh was never the main problem in New York.

100 Million Dollar Men

For the tone Saleh must set, I like Tennessee’s front office investing in these two players.

Jeffrey Simmons (three years, $105.8 million): Fourth-highest paid defensive tackle in football.

Peter Skoronski (four years, $100 million): Highest-paid guard in football.

Both are proven. Both are two of the best interior players in the sport that make the players to their left and right better. If the Titans can claw their way to a .500 season, expect another round of spending next spring.

Clean slate

Both coordinators — Daboll and Gus Bradley — spoke on Tuesday. One theme? The Titans are very much in the discovery phase of figuring out who’ll fit into their vision. Playcalling on both sides of the ball has been vanilla. They’re not trying to see which plays will work or not work.

Simply, this was a dreadful football team last season.

Bad contracts coupled with bad draft picks spiraled Tennessee to the basement.

The Titans shook up the roster as much as they could this offseason. This summer is all about seeing who in the hell they want to build with long term.

Bradley: “You’re still working on your fundamental principles in preseason games. You’re playing your coverages and you’re really honed in on your skillset of the player, how good are we fundamentally. More so than, ‘Hey, this is a tendency that we have. Let’s go ahead and execute this pressure or execute this coverage.’ You’re not seeing a lot of that in preseason. You’re seeing more, ‘Can we execute? And can we execute with a high level of fundamental work?’ It’s a change of mindset. You’re still evaluating personnel at this stage. We will this week. You might have a number of guys to decide on, but who are the other guys you’re looking at? So it’s important to put them in position. That’s what we did in the game. Play more vanilla so we can see them operate in space. Try not to have a lot of thinking going on.”

Daboll: “I appreciate their attitude. I appreciate their commitment to learning this stuff. There’s been a lot of good execution and then when there’s not as good execution—the defense plays well, too—they’ve done a great job of coming in collectively, watching the tape, going through it, making corrections and we talk about: ‘Don’t be an error repeater and make the same mistake twice.’ That’s what training camp is for. Let’s make sure we’re diving into the information. We’re going to make mistakes. When we get it again, let’s make sure we nail that one.

“I’m pleased with where we’re. I’m pleased with mentally where we’re at. When I say ‘pleased,’ I’m not happy. We want to score points every time we go out on the field. But the process in which the coaches are going through with the players, the process I see the players have, we’re going to keep building on that. Ultimately, it comes down to execution. That’s what we’re working hard on.”

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Coming Friday AM…

Our next 2026 NFL Season Preview Feature profiles “Big John” Simpson in Baltimore. “Shit’s going to be hard,” he tells us. “That’s life.” Wouldn’t he know, too. Simpson had every reason to paint himself a victim growing up and, instead, broke a generational curse. Now, he’s been handpicked as a missing piece to bring the nasty back to Baltimore and get this team to a Super Bowl.

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

Jim Monos will be with me all season long. The longtime NFL personnel man always brings A+ stories from his years in the league with the Eagles, Saints and Bills.

This week, we try to figure out who’ll represent the AFC in the Super Bowl.

Topics include:

• We must start with Jed York and the prostitution sting that made all of us throw up in our mouths.

• Deshaun Watson is QB1 in Cleveland. Shedeur Sanders stinks. What do we make of the Browns?

• The Buffalo Bills. Monos — the team’s former director of personnel — has some real concerns with the personnel on defense.

• Jim Leonhard. Why his plan of attack should complement Josh Allen on offense.

• Jim’s AFC pick. (Hint: He might’ve worked with the head coach of this team before.)

• My AFC pick. (Hint: Unicorns.)

• Preseason FEVER. Monos has had enough. Some Rueben Bain chatter slips us into some bonus Bucs talk. We’ll get to the NFC at greater length next week.

The full 88-minute episode is available to Go Long paid subscribers.

Video and audio is above. If you prefer to listen on Apple or Overcast as a subscriber, bang it here to sync your subscription. Instructions on syncing on Spotify are also here.

Thanks, all!

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I think you’ll be eager to read this book after listening, too.

Longtime NFL reporter is the author of “Just Give Me a Chance: The Life of NFL Hall of Fame Linebacker Sam Mills.”

Mills is one the true all-time greats and his rise to football stardom is littered with people who didn’t believe someone who stood 5-foot-9 could ever play linebacker. Domowitch spoke to 80+ people for this book, which you can purchase right here on Amazon.

There are numbers to study. At linebacker, Mills racked up 1,265 career tackles, 20.5 sacks, 24 forced fumbles, 23 fumble recoveries and 11 interceptions. He made five Pro Bowls. He was even a first-team All Pro at age 37 on a Carolina Panthers team that reached the NFC Championship Game in their second year of existence.

His legacy, however, runs much deeper than any accolades or statistics.

One “Keep Pounding” speech Mills gave as a Panthers assistant coach — while battling cancer — still resonates today. Mills died in 2005 at the age of 45.

Domowitch has covered the Philadelphia Eagles for years and now runs his own Substack: Tush Push.

Video and audio of my conversation with Domowitch is above, and also accessible on our Apple, Spotify and YouTube channels.

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ICYMI:

The Cleveland Browns’ bridge to nowhere

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

Think your job is difficult? Imagine cold-calling locals inside the Cleveland Browns’ ticket office. First, you’ve got to immediately launch into something cheery to prevent the person on the other end of the line from hanging up on the spot.

Hey, Mike! Listen. I know you remember the good ‘ol days of Bernie Kosar and Webster Slaughter. What about Leroy Hoard barreling through defenders?

Oh. You don’t. Hmm. OK, is your Dad around?

Oh. He renounced his fandom 20 years ago? Hmm. Well, anyway… ARE YOU READY FOR SOME FOOTBALL!? Boy, do I have a deal for YOU.

Shocker, you can attend the Browns’ season-opener for merely 48 bucks on StubHub. (Only $522 cheaper than the cheapest ticket to their friends 200 miles up Lake Erie, mind you.)

Get ‘em while they’re cold.

The team’s $230 Million Dollar Quarterback who has spent the last half-decade either suspended over sexual misconduct allegations during massages, injured or playing poorly looked terrible in another football game and proceeded to scold the fan base for booing him. You’ve seen the clip by now. Watson called the jeers “disrespectful,” adding that “it’s personal” — a reference to those accusations.

He reached his breaking point. It’s not even September.

“Last time I played on this field,” Watson said, “I tore my Achilles and that same fan base cheered when I got hurt. So, what does that have to do with anything about performance? When a person gets hurt, especially in their own city, and they cheer.”

Watson admitted he’s not sure he can overcome the boos.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know. It’s a mental battle every day.”

The next day, he was named the starting quarterback.

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This is the organization that both ran Baker Mayfield out of town and listened to everything Dan Campbell had to say and turned its nose.

A shame the Browns can’t at least get to the regular season before wetting the bed.

This season already feels like a waste of time.

Before we resume writing on the franchises that are taking this season seriously, I suppose its worth riffing on the Browns mid-flight here.

We see the football and business wings of a building clash in pro football, but never to this humiliating extreme. The last five years have been more of a monster truck expedition of self-destruction. All of this began with the Browns taking on a PR nightmare — remember the “baby yoga” pose? — in the name of football, of winning. Whenever he returned from suspension, they figured Watson would bamboozle defenses exactly as he did with the Houston Texans and any fans miffed by his unsavory conduct off the field would experience fan-amnesia. We see it all the time in sports. Mike Vick ran a dogfighting ring, went to prison for 21 months, received a second chance from Andy Reid and won Comeback Player of the Year in 2010. Fans adored him all over again. All in the NFL’s most volatile market. Take three minutes to Google Ben Roethlisberger and Karl Malone. Not pretty! Both are accused of worse crimes than Watson yet can return to Pittsburgh and Salt Lake City as conquering heroes.

Instead, Watson kept getting hurt. And whenever he’s been healthy, he has inspired no confidence. There was a fleeting moment this marriage had a shred of hope. Into the 2024 season, we spent some time in Berea. Jim Schwartz’s No. 1-ranked defense was fresh off a playoff appearance. If Old Man Joe Flacco could win, the Browns reasoned, a healthy Watson could do even more. The private quarterbacks coach who knows Watson best put it best that summer.

“Confidence is a muscle,” Quincy Avery told us. “You stop working out for a while, it goes away for a little bit. But I think that he’s in a good spot and he’s going to be able to get that confidence back. He just needs to see it, right? He goes out there and plays really good Week 1 against the Dallas Cowboys, I think that it’s going to really start rolling.”

Once upon a time, in Houston, this QB danced through defenses with ease. He was one of the most exhilarating players in the sport.

It didn’t take long for Cleveland to realize such dreams were farcical. Dallas humiliated the Browns in that season opener and they stumbled to a 3-14 record.

Through all of his issues on and off the field, Watson has clearly lost all confidence.

Then, he tore his Achilles. Twice.

I figured owner Jimmy Haslam had seen enough. The spring of 2025 — in a refreshing moment of introspection — he even admitted the Browns “took a big swing and miss with Deshaun.” He continued: “We thought we had the quarterback. We didn’t. And we gave up a lot of draft picks to get him, so we’ve got to dig ourselves out of that hole … (The trade) was an entire organization decision and it ends with Dee (Haslam) and I, so hold us accountable.”

When we returned to Cleveland that summer, it seemed like the team had a real chance to step into a whole new world. No longer would they trick themselves into seeing a quarterback that did not exist. The fact that No. 4 wasn’t on the field was a promising sign in itself. It didn’t matter if he was technically on the roster. This looked like a franchise finally moving on. That November, the team’s spectacled snake oil salesman Paul DePodesta also left the building. Strong drafts stacked up. The Browns even have some old-school dawgs on the roster. We profiled one of them: safety Grant Delpit.

But then, we can only assume business got in the way again.

Cleveland didn’t want to destroy its cap by eating Watson’s contract.

Cutting him right now creates a $86,206,864 dead cap hit for 2027, per Spotrac.

No realistic starting options were added the last six months.

Haslam reverted to operating like the CEO of a business instead of a football team, desperate to get anything out of his $230 million investment that he can.

On paper, that makes sense. He’d hate to see Watson succeed anywhere else after writing all those checks.

The NFL, however, is quite different than a Pilot Flying J truck stop. The mere presence of a GM, a coach, a quarterback that everyone knows shouldn’t be leading 50+ men in a locker room doubles as a mental anchor holding everyone down. That’s how one higher-up with the New York Jets described Woody Johnson this offseason. Everyone sees who’s pulling the strings in New Jersey — a buffoon — and cannot muster any real, organic hope for the future. Year to year to agonizing year. No transaction matters if this is the man in charge. The Arizona Cardinals, as written, suffer from the same crisis of confidence. In Cleveland, Haslam’s had his own issues. Further, when the quarterback central to the entire operation hasn’t looked good in ages… and he’s absurdly chastising paying customers… and everyone knows the only reason he’s on the roster is his cartoonish contract, it’s bound to kill off motivation.

If Watson was a free agent worth the vet minimum, would anyone really sign him? Here’s thinking I’d be asking my “Real Football” co-host Jim Monos if his UFL would consider signing Watson.

Everyone knows 2026 doesn’t matter to the Browns. They’re clearly aiming to draft a quarterback in 2027.

Morale has to mean something inside a locker room. Cut him. Make him a distant No. 3. Do anything. Watson has since apologized for his remarks but, damn. He sure sounded like a man who wanted nothing to do with Cleveland after his showing vs. Buffalo.

That’s why you can’t help but feel for the team’s new head coach Todd Monken.

The more he speaks, the more I like the fact that he’s in charge. Way back when the Browns kicked Mayfield to the curb for Watson, a source told ESPN the team desired an “adult” in the QB room. An objectively bizarre statement. There are many other “adults” the Browns could’ve chosen at the position. Four years later, Watson’s still here.

Through an impossible circumstance, Monken has most certainly operated like the adult in the room.

Fresh off Watson’s bizarre postgame rant, here’s what Monken said in case you missed it:

“I don’t want to get booed. It comes with the territory. You don’t want to get booed? Let’s play good football. Let’s play good at quarterback, on offense and as a team, and then you won’t have to worry about all that, because it can turn just like that. Win, play good football, and everybody will be fine. That’s just part of it. I told him, ‘You good? We’re good.’ That’s part of what we do.”

He named Watson QB1. His options weren’t exactly stellar and you can’t help but wonder if his boss stepped in. Given truth serum, I’d love to hear what Monken really thinks about his quarterback room.

The crazy thing is, Cleveland actually has been building something promising around the quarterback position.

Nor is there any shame in planning for the future. Hell, one could still argue Cleveland is closer to a championship than the Pittsburgh Steelers.

Pittsburgh’s Art Rooney all but screams from the mountaintops that he loathes rebuilding. A 42-year-old Aaron Rodgers isn’t competing with Joe Burrow’s Bengals and Lamar Jackson’s Ravens in the AFC North this season, yet he’s good enough to steal a few wins and the Steelers roster is solid overall. They’ll muddle around .500 like they always do and get stuck in the murky middle yet again next offseason.

The Browns, on the other hand, are positioned well to draft a quarterback high in the ‘27 class. They also own the Los Angeles Rams’ first-rounder as potential ammo to move up if they somehow win five or six games this fall.

But there’s no reason to enthusiastically welcome the controversy and dead weight of a player 0.01 percent of the fan base seems to enjoy. Especially after Watson said the quiet part out loud this week — he cannot overcome the (literal) noise. By all accounts in training camp, Watson has done nothing to suggest he deserves to start in this league. There have been no flashes of 2018 and 2019 brilliance past.

Shedeur Sanders probably stinks, too. Starting and benching Sanders brings its own host of problems. The Browns simply should’ve done anything but back themselves into this corner at quarterback. Recycle Kirk Cousins, Jimmy G, beg Flacco to return, anything to maintain a little pride.

Of course, this all reeks again like business and football clashing — an owner trying to salvage arguably the worst contract in NFL history. Ironic considering the scene that’ll now play out downtown. If Watson’s still the quarterback by the team’s home opener in Week 3, a large chunk of the fan base will refuse to show up. The unlucky few in attendance will undoubtedly boo at the first Watson incompletion on third down.

He won’t be able to handle it, Sanders will get the call at some point and this season will hyperventilate week to week to week with zero support at home or abroad.

There’s no price to put on reputation, and the Browns brand is (somehow) sinking lower.

Much to Watson’s dismay, this 2026 season won’t have a happy ending. The Browns only have themselves to blame.

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This week, we’ve got a piece on Tate Ratledge — a man who represents the cutthroat nature of the sport itself. Thanks to all who’ve subscribed, read and shared. Ratledge opened up on the night that changed his life and much more.

With Lions on the brain, I thought we were due to hit record on a Substack Live with our friend of The Detroit Football Network.

Ratledge put the championship expectations perfectly in our chat:

“What’s known doesn’t have to be talked about. Why are you playing if that’s not your goal? It’s definitely serious around here. Not that it gets brought up 24/7, but it’s a very known thing around the building.”

Here on the pod, we dig deep into why title aspirations are real — it’s a loaded roster, everyone’s (very) hungry — and what could be the team’s Achilles heel. A ton of insight.

Be sure to download the Substack app to join all future live recordings:

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2026 NFL Season Preview Features to date:

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

Tate Ratledge is a 6-foot-6 tatted creature created in a Dan Campbell Lab. Of course this guard from the SEC rocked a mullet through college. Of course the Detroit Lions head coach coveted an offensive guard who was booted from four daycares as a kid.

When I was planning out our season-preview features at Go Long, the intrigue was this new union.

Turns out, there’s a hell of a lot more to Ratledge’s story.

Starting with the night in college that changed his life forever. Ratledge lost his best friend on the Georgia football team: Devin Willock. The events of that tragedy stay on his mind, but he’s also a man impervious to pain. Physical, emotional. His face never changes. This is a player who represents the necessary, callous psychology of an NFL player.

From our story:

The Detroit Lions are all business. Everyone knows the time to win is NOW.

Ratledge could be the brawler who tips the balance of powers in the NFC North.

Our entire piece is available to Go Long subscribers.

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New here? It’s a perfect time to upgrade and access all 2026 NFL Season Preview Features linked below. (We’ve got more big ones cookin,’ too.)

A few soundbytes from Ratledge below…

Roots.

Oh, he’d receive his share of corporal punishment in the boonies of Tennessee. Mom’s wooden spoon made an appearance or two.

“I got disciplined when I needed to be disciplined and loved on when I needed to be loved on. I couldn’t ask for more. It’s why I turned out the way I am today.”

Jan. 14, 2023.

Georgia had just celebrated its championship through downtown Athens. This was supposed to be the pinnacle of everyone’s football lives. Instead, there’s one image Ratledge cannot shake. When he said his goodbyes at 1:30 a.m., he knew something was… off. For a while, it was hard for him to shake the guilt.

“I knew she was hammered. I knew it. I just didn’t know she was driving.”

Kirby Smart Effect.

You heard similar tales from Javon Bullard when the Packers nickel back broke down how he plans to supply his team a killer instinct.

Life is different in Athens, Ga.

You know, even if a staffer accidentally spills all the water in-transit. Yes, everyone was still required to complete that team run as temps climbed into the triple digits. Ratledge brings this world to life.

“He changed me as a person for the better. I owe everything to Coach Smart. He built me to who I am. He believed in us and he was hard on us. That’s how I was raised. Dad was always hard on me for certain things and I wouldn’t want it any other way from my coach. So Coach Smart obviously pushed us in ways we hadn’t been pushed before. And then aside from being a tremendous coach? He’s a player’s coach. You just love him.”

“Numb.”

When his wife cries, he’s never sure what to do. Ratledge will ask the dog to console her. No, he’s never been a man in touch with his feelings. Yes, he knows his nature is both blessing and cruise. In this cutthroat world of pro football? It’s certainly a gift. As Campbell loves to say, this sport is a “freight train coming.”

Our story explores this dynamic in full.

“I hear somebody say they’re depressed? Stop being fucking sad. That’s my mindset. I’m never too high. I’m never too low. I’m just even-keeled. I’m not going to have something happen that fucking explodes my life and ruins my whole week. I might let it affect me for a day.”

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2026 NFL Season Preview Features to date:

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

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ALLEN PARK, Mich. — Clouds darken overhead when it’s time to discuss the worst moment of his life. A storm’s coming. Fitting. Tate Ratledge lifts himself off a chair near the practice field, we stride toward the door and, by the time he ducks into the Detroit Lions’ facility, a light drizzle has strengthened into a torrential downpour.

Walking through the hallway, as country music blares, the 25-year-old guard mentions a honeymoon on tap. This minicamp will wrap up and it’s off to St. Lucia. In typical newlywed fashion, this new husband hasn’t packed a single item yet.

Ratledge takes a right turn, onto the Lions’ indoor field, plops atop a massive plyo box, tears off the tape around each finger and picks up exactly where he left off. Good times were had in Athens, Ga. The best times. This is where a boy became a man and he won two national championships. It’s also where he suffered the greatest loss of his young life.

He exhales deeply and starts the only place he can.

With the parade.

The Georgia Bulldogs were fresh off a 65-7 College Football Playoff National Championship win over Texas Christian. A thrashing that capped a perfect 15-0 season and catapulted this program to a new realm — back-to-back champs. They were on top of the football world. Five days later, it was time to celebrate. “The whole city of Athens,” Ratledge details, “is flooded with people.” Roughly 50,000 in all. Ratledge was perched on the back of a fire truck with three teammates. Sirens blared. Horns honked. Locals screamed and pumped fists and pointed toward the most unlikely best friends. Ratledge, from the deep country of Tennessee, sifted fingers through his signature mullet. Devin Willock, from New Jersey, in dreads, hoisted his cell phone high into the sky to capture the scenes himself.

All both linemen could see was mass humanity on both sides of the street.

“Unbelievable,” Ratledge says. “What you dream of. There’s no telling how many people were there. You can’t ask for anything better. An ocean of people from all over the state there just to see you drive by on a car. Which is insane.”

That evening, Willock posed for pictures with a young fan at Texas Roadhouse and let the boy try on his enormous championship ring.

That night, college kids then did what college kids do — drank, partied, reveled in championship glory. Ratledge remembers saying bye around 1:30 a.m. He told Willock that both he and Annabelle, his then-girlfriend, now-wife, were heading home. Ratledge dapped him up, said “I love you” and called an Uber. The school’s recruiting coordinator, Chandler LeCroy, was also hanging out with them all.

Memories replay. He pauses.

Ratledge’s exterior is an impenetrable fortress, a barricade that prevents all emotions, all sensitivities from ever seeing the light of day. The man never cries. Even then — briefly — he gets choked up, and takes a sip of water to collect himself. There’s sadness in his eyes with a tint of anger.

“They obviously get in the car,” Ratledge says, “and go somewhere. I’m going to say something I shouldn’t.”

Then, he continues.

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Ratledge returned to his place, slipped into bed and his phone rang. It was Amarius Mims, another hulking offensive lineman on the squad. He hit mute. Didn’t answer. “Mims being Mims,” he told himself. Ratledge thought nothing of such a random call in the middle of the night because this was common. The boys always swapped outlandish party stories in real time. Ratledge fell asleep and — as the sun began to rise — was awakened by Annabelle’s sobbing. Standing over the bed, she was bawling. Her eyes were red. She was barely able to articulate the crushing news.

“Dev’s gone.”

Huh? “Where did he go?” Ratledge wondered.

“He died last night.”

Ratledge entered a state of shock. He didn’t say one word and didn’t show one blip of emotion, period, until finally crying with teammates at the Bulldogs facility later that night.

It was true. Willock, 20, was dead. So was LeCroy. Operating a university SUV not authorized for use, the latter was driving 104 mph at around 2:30 a.m. and careened into two power poles and several trees. Toxicology results revealed her blood alcohol concentration to be .197, more than twice the legal limit in Georgia. An investigation would find that LeCroy, in a 2021 Ford Expedition, was street-racing Jalen Carter’s 2021 Jeep Trackhawk through Athens.

Both Willock and LeCroy were killed. Two other passengers survived.

Immediately, Ratledge felt paralyzed by guilt, by anger. Once in college, he physically ripped the car keys out of a close friend’s hands to prevent him from driving drunk. He’s never been afraid to step in.

This time, he did not.

“I knew she was hammered. I knew it,” Ratledge says. “I just didn’t know she was driving.”

He kept replaying that final goodbye in his mind and blamed himself. It took days, weeks, months for Ratledge to accept the reality that he didn’t give LeCroy the keys. Anyone could’ve stepped in. Not that he’s ever gotten over losing Dev. “It still sticks with me,” Ratledge says. “It’s on my body.” With that, he shows a black and red “DW” tattoo on his wrist. There’s the number 77. And along one forearm — in massive all caps — is “LLDW,” short for Live Like Devin Willock.

He refuses to forget what happened the night of Jan. 14, 2023. It’s part of him.

A kid hardened beyond his years was now stone freakin’ cold.

“It numbs you,” he says.

For better. For worse.

Ratledge admits he doesn’t have much sympathy for other people. Whenever a friend or loved one goes through a hard time, he brushes it off with a “whatever.” Even inside his own home, it’s difficult for Ratledge to shower his wife with compassion when Annabelle is upset. Unnatural. He half-jokes that he tells the dog to cuddle with her. (“I’m out. I don’t know what to do.”) That’s what happens when you’ve lived through the darkest of dark times at such an impressionable age. There were tears, no doubt. But when I ask if he’s ever had the opportunity to let all emotions pour out of him or if he’s been holding it all in, there’s no hesitation.

He holds it all in. He knows this isn’t healthy and Ratledge also knows what he’s about to say next is not popular in 2026.

“This is going to sound really fucked up,” he begins. “I’m not a huge believer in mental health.”

As a human being, that may not be ideal.

As a professional football player, it can be a superpower.

Football never stops. Football has progressed from owning Sundays to now owning Christmas. Nothing stands in the shield’s way. No holiday’s too important, no injury’s too severe. Players break bones, tear ligaments, suffer brain trauma, are quite literally scooped off the turf, stuffed into an ambulance and the sport just… keeps… moving. Let’s not forget the NFL played games six days after one player nearly died on the field. All 32 teams essentially high-stepped over Damar Hamlin’s body and played on.

Weak minds do not last. Compartmentalizing is often an impossible fantasy.

Callousness is endemic to the sport.

The participant impervious to all pain, all emotion thrives. Tate Ratledge is a window into the psychology of the profession. He lost “Dev,” got those tattoos and had zero choice but to charge on for two more seasons in Athens. Along the way, he inked an enormous picture of a lion to his arm above those initials because this species is the king of the jungle. And then, Ratledge was identified by Dan Campbell and Brad Holmes as a man worthy of their offensive line. This is where the two first morphed a perennial loser into a winner. Selected 57^th overall in the 2025 NFL Draft, Ratledge started all 17 games at guard as a rookie.

Titanium tough, his ascent may now be the key to the Lions reaching their first Super Bowl in franchise history.

All pain bottled up inside of Ratledge isn’t going anywhere.

His guess is as good as yours on the long-term effects.

In the short term, life outside of football sure can feel weird. Ratledge believes society today is far too sensitive. (More on that later.)

“But that goes back to how I was raised.”

So, that’s the logical place to start — with Football Practice No. 1.

“Fun fact,” Ratledge begins. “I actually cried.”

The hitting drill is called “Sharks and Minnows,” and it tends to boomerang herds of kids to more benign sports.

One player is the shark and placed in the middle of the football field. Everyone else serves as minnows sprinting from one sideline to the other. It’s not complicated. The shark simply chooses one victim to devour.

Large for his age, Ratledge played up a level with much older kids.

He was the chosen minnow. He was sent airborne.

“I got laid out,” he recalls.

Ironic considering this same exact drill was a baptism to this sport for the All-Pro on this Lions offensive line. From the village of Malaeimi in America Samoa to the state of Utah, one of Penei Sewell’s earliest football memories also happens to be Sharks and Minnows. Only, he was designated the “shark” as a 6-foot-3, 325-pound eighth-grader. Sewell gave one hapless “minnow” a concussion, a sprained ankle and never saw him again. His victim quit the team on the spot and changed schools. Share this tale with Ratledge and his eyes bug out. (“Jesus! I had the opposite experience.”) Ratledge, conversely, saw stars, his lip quivered and… uh, no. Dad was not having it. Dean Ratledge played college ball himself at Tennessee Tech before coaching high school football for 40+ years.

He’s old school. Very old school.

Son would rather not relay Dad’s message in that moment.

“That’s how I’ve been raised,” Ratledge says. “He’s hardnosed and I take after him.”

With those curse words, the sport was officially injected into his bloodstream.

There’s growing up in the middle of nowhere, and then there’s Athens, Tenn., an hour north of Chattanooga. Both parents drove 45 minutes to work each day. Ratledge recalls the nearest gas station being a half-hour away.

If he acted up, he was dealt with swiftly. Ratledge received many, many whoopings. Down here? The parents of other kids had the permission to whoop you, too. One of Ratledge’s best friends growing up was future Bulldog teammate Cade Brock. He remembers Brock’s Dad issuing corporal punishment on him and he’s sure his own Dad did the same to Brock. It was status quo.

We’ve heard this often. Calvin Austin III and Will Campbell both looked back at their belt beatings fondly.

Ratledge became familiar with the belt himself.

Spoons, too.

“Whatever she could get ahold of,” he says.

Come again? She?

“Yeah, Mom was mean,” Ratledge adds “You did not want to piss off Mom.”

Even as a junior in college, he got whacked with a belt by Mary Stuart Ratledge for talking back. (“She’s feisty. My Mom’s got a little shit to her.”)

By no means is he complaining. All of it — Tate insists — was well-deserved.

Ratledge dubs himself “hell on wheels” as a kid. Growing up, he was booted out of four daycares — once for kicking the owner’s daughter down the slide because, dammit, she was taking too long. He was bigger than everyone else. If Ratledge wanted something, he took it. Dad loves to tell Tate he hopes he gets a child just like him. Whenever that day comes, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to spank a little girl. “But,” Ratledge adds, “I could probably strike my son.” That’s because he’s eternally grateful for his own upbringing. He wouldn’t change a thing. His parents sacrificed a ton to give him endless opportunities, right to getting him into a private school 120 miles south in Rome, Ga.

“I got disciplined when I needed to be disciplined,” Ratledge says, “and loved on when I needed to be loved on. I couldn’t ask for more. It’s why I turned out the way I am today.”

Hell yeah, he’s into country music. Everything from Waylon Jennings and George Strait to Cody Johnson and Jason Aldean. Obviously, he’s been hunting for years. Turkey reigns supreme in his neck of the woods. The deer hunting stinks, but he was usually able to fill his tags to fill up the freezer with meat. Overall? Nothing extreme ever rocked his world growing up. No tragedies, no trauma.

On the contrary, he hit the jackpot. He started dating his future wife in 10^th grade.

In due time, Ratledge was the apex predator driving kids into the dirt on the football field. By seventh grade, he was bigger than everyone. Tate only grew… and grew… and, soon, dominated every drill. Every opponent. A four-star recruit, Ratledge was coveted by schools throughout the SEC and chose Georgia over the hometown Tennessee Volunteers — news akin to an earthquake beneath the feet of some family members. Oh, Dad had no problem ditching his lifelong Vols fandom. One video of Dean peeling the orange “T” off his truck window went viral. Other family members, however, were not pleased. To this day, several refuse to speak to Ratledge. One aunt and uncle he was incredibly close to through his childhood cut him out of their lives completely. Cold turkey.

Six years later, he still hasn’t heard from either individual.

Meanwhile, diehard fans flooded his Instagram inbox with death threats.

“It’s deep,” Ratledge says. “Vol fans are crazy.”

His reasoning was straightforward. Ratledge wanted to win and believed in head coach Kirby Smart.

After barely playing as a freshman, he ruptured his Lisfranc the third play of his sophomore year in 2021. An excruciating injury. ESPN cameras captured a rare sight: Ratledge grimacing in agony. (“It felt like my foot was cut in half.”) The foot still didn’t feel right through Georgia’s undefeated 2022 season. For good measure, Ratledge also gritted through a high ankle sprain his final ’24 season — an injury that’d later require surgery. Georgia didn’t have many able bodies on the O-Line, so he played through the pain. Worth noting, Toradol only accomplishes so much. You can numb up your entire foot, but it’s still difficult to move. Ratledge didn’t feel nearly as powerful. By the time he healed up, his leg was so skinny that his knee brace wouldn’t fit.

Two championship rings made all tears, all bruises, all sprains worth it.

“Couldn’t have asked for anything better,” Ratledge says. “That’s why I decided to go to Georgia. I wanted to win.”

What he didn’t bargain for was a much different type of pain.

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He remembers the first time they met. All 380 pounds this kid was carrying miraculously balanced atop a knee scooter —Devin Willock was motoring all around the UGA campus. Even to massive human beings, like Ratledge, this was a monster of a man. Ratledge dapped him up for the first time and felt Willock’s hand swallow his. “What the fuck?” he asked himself, astonished.

This was the largest person Ratledge ever met in his life.

They had nothing in common. Zilch. But Willock was hilarious. This was the happiest person he had ever met in his life. All Ratledge knew was that he needed to be around a personality this infectious.

“He would literally brighten up a room,” Ratledge says. “He was the biggest teddy bear I’ve ever met in my life. Loved everybody. Always had a smile on his face, no matter what was going on. He was the one to lift you up, bring the room together.”

Such is the beauty of football. It brings people together from all conceivable backgrounds.

Such is the beauty of Athens, Ga. It was the perfect extension of his upbringing in Athens, Tenn. The new man in charge, Smart, simply wielded a microphone instead of a belt or wooden spoon. Playing for Georgia is something like dipping into a time machine to the 70s or 80s. This coach’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers each practice. Screw up and everyone hears about it. Those ill-equipped to handle embarrassment were welcome to leave.

Ratledge was berated — ruthlessly — and better for it.

“When I first got into college?” Ratledge recalls. “Him on that microphone, he used to eat me alive. It got a little wild. I’m pretty sure he told me I was sorry and soft and I sucked with a few choice words in-between there. He can flip a switch.”

The best memories with Willock, hands down, were “the sucky ones.” All brutal team runs they thought would kill ‘em. To build a base of mental stamina, Smart famously has players run the entire stadium stairs 15 times. Once for each game on the schedule. “Those,” Ratledge adds, “aren’t made for fat people.” Run to run to run, bonds strengthen during this state of delusion. They’d often trudge into the locker room, sprawl on the locker room floor and ask aloud: What the hell are we doing? One specific practice comes to mind. It must’ve been 120 degrees on the practice field when players looked up to see a staffer accidentally spill all of the team’s water supply down a hill.

There wasn’t one drop of H2O left.

Smart didn’t care. He instructed all players to complete the team run.

“We were dying,” Ratledge says. “You look back at that and it’s like, ‘That’s part of the reason I am where I am. Because we were put through that sucky situation. So when we got in the game, the games were easier than what we did all year long in college. … We’ve been through so much shit together.

“No other sport are you going through hell with however many other people.”

Nothing players faced in games compared to practice, the same point made by Green Bay Packers safety Javon Bullard. Smart’s cutthroat culture engrained a mental toughness that feeds the physical toughness. Ratledge firmly believes in this order of operations because it never works the other way around. It’s impossible to play through pain and/or deliver a blow if you’re unwilling, if you’re soft. “You can’t just be physically tough,” he explains. “Something bad happens and then you shut down.”

Ratledge is forever grateful for the Nick Saban disciple in a visor. Smart is a rare relic in these NIL times.

“He changed me as a person for the better,” Ratledge says. “I owe everything to Coach Smart. He built me to who I am. He believed in us and he was hard on us. That’s how I was raised. Dad was always hard on me for certain things and I wouldn’t want it any other way from my coach. So Coach Smart obviously pushed us in ways we hadn’t been pushed before. And then aside from being a tremendous coach? He’s a player’s coach. You just love him.”

All of it led to wins. So many wins.

Then came the night that changed everyone’s lives.

Ratledge had no clue what to feel when he learned Willock was killed in a car accident.

Suddenly, that national title victory over TCU meant absolutely nothing.

The only thing teammates could do was stick together. After Willock’s death, each night, they congregated. They’d eat. They’d share stories. Simply because nobody wanted to be alone. It was a down time in the football calendar. So during the day, players tried to play golf and work out together at the facility as much as possible.

Somehow, drunk driving remains a gigantic problem in America. There’s Uber. There’s Lyft. There’s no reason anyone should get behind the wheel of a car intoxicated. Still, approximately 11,000 to 13,000 people die each year due to drunk driving. About 1,000 of those deaths occur on college campuses.

Making matters worse, State Route 10 Loop completely circles around the college town of Athens. It’s easy to pick up a head of steam and treat this highway like Daytona 500. At one point in our conversation, Ratledge gets visibly pissed off all over again. After Willock’s death, too many players refused to change. Since January 2023, the team has experienced 25+ incidents of reckless driving.

“We just lost a fucking teammate and we got guys doing all this?” Ratledge says. “That eats at me. How many does it take?”

It’s been addressed. Repeatedly. He’s seen Smart cry in front of the entire team, begging and pleading his players to slow the hell down. Ratledge recalls the head coach bringing in police, the state patrol and instituting defensive driving classes to drill home the same points.

Nothing seems to stop players from feeling invincible.

“He’s doing what he needs to do,” Ratledge adds. “You give a bunch of young kids that much money, stupid shit’s going to happen.

“Slow the fuck down.”

Because here’s what this epidemic destroyed.

Green Bay’s Bullard was close to LeCroy. To this day, his pinned tweet is a picture with her.

Ratledge lost one of his best friends, too. Willock was just starting to truly figure out his life. Everything on and off the field was starting to click.

This is how Ratledge copes. He knows Willock could be in his cleats.

“I don’t take football for granted,” he explains. “I don’t take life for granted. To understand how blessed I am and lucky I am to be in the position I am — and what he would have done to be able to be in this position — it puts it in a different perspective. It’s like, ‘Oh, I’m going to practice today, this sucks. I don’t want to do that.’ Well, fuck, I got a buddy that’s dead that would do anything to be here right now. Kind of puts it in perspective for you.”

The Bulldogs pinned a picture of Willock up in their offensive line room. And throughout the 2023 season, they took turns wearing No. 77. Upon graduating, this group asked the school not to issue the number to anyone else. As long as O-Line coach Stacy Searels is in charge, Ratledge is confident that will be the case. He does little things himself, too, like keeping a picture of Willock on the visor of his truck. (“A little reminder: Slow your ass down.”)

Ratledge doesn’t try to bury this tragedy deep into his subconscious. He admits his friend’s death completely changed his life. He’ll LLDW best he can.

“I can’t come in here and be pissed off,” he adds. “You’ve got to be in a good mood. I’m playing football for a living. What do I have to complain about?”

Yet, he also knows the aftershock is more complicated because it’s his nature to numb all emotional pain, and blast ahead at one speed. It’s who he is. It’s what gives him an edge in this sport. Ratledge doesn’t believe in mental health, a stark departure from the last ass-kicking lineman featured in our pages.

Ratledge understands his approach is not the norm.

“I hear somebody say they’re depressed? Stop being fucking sad. That’s my mindset,” Ratledge says. “I’m never too high. I’m never too low. I’m just even-keeled. I’m not going to have something happen that fucking explodes my life and ruins my whole week. I might let it affect me for a day.”

One twist of a knee ligament on FieldTurf. One horrendous call by an official. One teammate botching an assignment, thus leaving you high and dry and humiliated in front of millions. Hell, one bad bounce of this funny-shaped ball.

So much is out of your control in this sport. A complete lack of emotional sensitivities is a gift.

Attacking day-to-day life with 10 onion layers around his feelings has been a blessing. Ratledge stayed at Georgia for five years. In no universe did he ever imagine walking into Smart’s office and threatening to transfer if he didn’t receive a raise — common practice today. He spurned the hometown Vols (and lost family members) in the interest of winning, and that’s precisely what Smart delivered. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to repay the coach.

Football’s Darwinism naturally led The Mullet to his next coach: Dan Campbell.

He never saw it coming. Ratledge only met with the Lions once. But playing next to Sewell? And a veteran center in Graham Glasgow? Quickly, Ratledge realized this was home. Both players helped him in countless ways as a rookie. Glasgow had answers for every question he threw his way. And then, there’s the head coach who recently decreased his caffeine intake from a gallon of coffee per day to a half gallon.

“The way football’s supposed to be played, how he wants it played,” Ratledge says, “I fit into that mold. Fast. Physical. Nobody’s going to mentally out-do us, physically outdo us. He’s a smashmouth football kind of guy and that’s my best football.”

Granted, this means re-entering a familiar crucible. The ecosystem inside this building is not for everyone. When we chat a second time, via phone, Ratledge insinuates that he’s fresh off getting his ass chewed out by coaches. Battles with Alim McNeill, another titan on this line of scrimmage, have been intense. If you have a rough practice here, the urgency to respond the next day is high.

Campbell and Lions O-Line coach Hank Fraley have no time for repeated errors.

Mistakes must be corrected, or you’re out.

Before, he took life for granted. He thought that nothing bad could ever happen to him. Tate Ratledge viewed himself as “invincible.”

A loved one died and he quit thinking this way entirely. So, in his mind, it’s simple: There’s zero time to hyper-analyze emotions. Life moves too fast.

“It’s not waiting up on you,” Ratledge says. “You must come to a point where you can accept what happened — whatever that is — and move on. Don’t get me wrong, it still hurts. It still sucks. That day rolls around every year around that time, and it sucks. But life goes on. You’ve got to keep going.”

Exactly as pro football keeps going.

Campbell has described the nature of the sport as a freight train, a nod to Metallica’s No Leaf Clover. Each Monday, players can see a glint of light at the end of the tunnel. Come Sunday, the train is in your face — whether you’re ready or not. There are pros mentally equipped for the head-on collision and pros who are not. The latter do not last long. Watching peers get cut in the pros was strange at first. But then Ratledge remembered Smart’s boot camp. He credits Dad for opening his eyes to the sport’s reality ages ago.

Dean Ratledge always told his son: Hear the message, not the tone.

Listen to what correction is being taught, instead of being consumed by emotions and thinking someone’s being a big meanie.

“You’ve got to be able to be coached,” Ratledge says. “You can’t take things to heart.

“Bad shit’s going to happen. It’s all about getting back up off the mat. Keep going.”

Unfortunately, this mentality comes with unintended consequences. Ratledge is not a cozy shoulder in times of need, no. If anyone’s crying around him — if anyone’s sad, period — he has no clue what to do. He’s basically Ricky Bobby saying, “I’m not sure what to do with my hands.” That’s been true since high school.

So, yeah. Sorry if this hug feels a little forced, Annabelle. He’s trying. He’s slowly figuring out what to say whenever you’re stressed.

“It’s gotten better,” Ratledge says, “but it’s still an awkward thing for me.”

Let’s give this 6-foot-6, 322-pounder some grace. His day job isn’t easy.

After all, there are Bulldogs scattered across the league.

To reach a Super Bowl, he’ll need to slay former teammates. Bullard is trying to give the Packers a killer instinct. Carter, the player racing LeCroy, inked a four-year, $152 million deal with the Philadelphia Eagles this offseason. After falling to ninth overall, amid character concerns, he’s been a treacherous assignment for all NFL guards and centers. Bring up his role in the fatal accident, and Ratledge cuts in. He harbors no resentment. (“I love Jalen. Jalen is one of my favorite people I played with. Great teammate, great guy. I love Jalen.”) Carter also got the best of him in a 16-9 Eagles win last season. Carter enjoys talking shit on the field. Six seconds into the 2025 season, he spit on Cowboys quarterback Dak Prescott and was ejected.

That’s what makes these meetings between ex-Bulldogs special. Expletives are never exchanged, let alone saliva. There’s a mutual respect.

Says Ratledge: “We went through so much shit together.”

After seeing their win total improve from three to nine to 12 to 15 in Campbell’s first four years, the Lions backtracked to 9-8 last season and missed the playoffs. Hence, the healthy tension in Allen Park this summer.

Take it from Campbell. Here’s how the face of the franchise summarized the tone of training camp in a recent press conference.

“We don’t have time to waste, and we can’t wait for anybody,” Campbell said. “We’re out to get this job done and we can’t mess around. So, we have to be able to trust you, you’ve got to be dependable, you’ve got to be coachable, and you’ve got to be a competitor, man. You’ve got to be able to line up and go back for the next play no matter what happened in the last one. It is competitive. We love that. Because that’s where the cream always rises to the top. You’re going to find those guys and then you’ll find the ones that it’s just too much, it’s hard. Doesn’t make them bad people. It’s probably not for you, at least not here.”

Urgency, once again, is ratcheted up most on the offensive line. That was the case when Campbell and Holmes first built this roster and that’s the case in Season No. 6. Especially considering Jared Goff, surgical yet immobile, is still the quarterback. And especially after seeing Jahmyr Gibbs average less than four yards per carry in five of his last six games. It’s clear the Lions intend to feed their No. 1 back the ball a lot this season. To achieve this mission, Campbell wants his five best linemen starting regardless of position. That’s why Ratledge has also gotten reps at center.

He improved as Year 1 wore on. Ratledge allowed only one sack and four QB hits his last 12 starts.

Like his team, he’s all business. Gone is the mullet that made him a cult hero in the SEC. Nor does he have any imminent facial hair plans.

Last season’s letdown up front still “stings” players and coaches, Ratledge says. There’s no need for signs or speeches or daily affirmations. Everyone realizes the time to reach the Super Bowl is now. The Lions aren’t a lovable underdog anymore. They’ve got to win.

“What’s known,” Ratledge says, “doesn’t have to be talked about. Why are you playing if that’s not your goal? It’s definitely serious around here. Not that it gets brought up 24/7, but it’s a very known thing around the building.”

With that, it’s time to head off to another meeting.

Mistakes will be magnified. F-bombs will fly.

Tate Ratledge doesn’t want it any other way.

All the perspective he needs is inscribed right there on his arms.

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2026 NFL Season Preview Features to date:

Tate Ratledge feels no pain

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

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This week, subscribers had the chance to ask a former NFL general manager questions.

Doug Whaley oversaw the Buffalo Bills as GM from May 2013 through May 2017. Before Buffalo, he spent a decade on the Pittsburgh Steelers scouting staff and earned a pair of Super Bowl rings. Since Buffalo, he’s helped build the UFL into a viable league as the senior vice president of personnel.

Loved welcoming Whaley back on the show. Much was gleaned.

He explains why the UFL is working and answers a string of excellent questions on how best to handle injury reports, the Sammy Watkins draft pick, the sale of these Bills to Terry Pegula, Russ Brandon’s role and we also get his thoughts on the Bills and Steelers of today. Whaley helped hire Sean McDermott in 2017 before the coach replaced him with Brandon Beane. What does he think of Pegula moving on from McDermott a decade later? And in 2022, Whaley interviewed for the Steelers’ GM vacancy, losing out to Omar Khan. What does he make of the Steelers’ perpetual vision to compete year-in and year-out vs. planning long term? Can this Mike McCarthy-Aaron Rodgers union work?

As always, paid subscribers can join players, coaches and execs from around the NFL on our Happy Hours.

Our goal at Go Long is to bring you as close as possible to real, raw football.

Thank you for hanging out, everyone. Love meeting you all.

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During our chat, a few stories/podcasts were also referenced. Here are those links, if you’d like to read back:

• What Sammy Watkins Believes (2020)

• The Pressure is on Josh Allen (2020)

• The day the Buffalo Bills could’ve drafted Patrick Mahomes (2025)

• Doug Whaley, the ‘17 draft and life behind the curtain (2021)

• Doug Whaley on Fitz, the XFL, Steelers GM job and... the time the Bills nearly took Russell Wilson (2022)

• The first episode of the Go Long Podcast with Whaley and Jim Monos (2020)

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Happy Hour Replays:

• Eric Wood

• Isaiah McKenzie

• Allen Robinson

• Rob Johnson

• Preston Brown

• Alex Green

• Steve Calhoun

• John Hansen

• Andrew Brandt

• Peter King

• Warren Moon

• Isaiah McKenzie

• Bob McGinn

• Rob Johnson

• Jamal Lewis

• T.J. Lang

• Jamaal Williams

• Stevie Johnson

• Richie Incognito

• Wyatt Teller

• Doug Whaley

• Isaiah Likely

• Stevie Johnson

• Eric Wood

• LeRoy Butler

• Bob McGinn & Jim Monos

• Quincy Avery

• Erik Kramer

• Frank Winters

• Olin Kreutz

• Peter King

• Johnathan Franklin

• Steve Calhoun

• Jim Monos

• Jace Sternberger

• Doug Whaley

• Isaiah McKenzie

• Andy Janovich

• Vince Williams

• Ryan Leaf & Steve Tasker

• Joshua Harris

• D’Wayne Eskridge

• Allen Robinson

Great news, all.

We’ve got an excellent Happy Hour guest for you on tap.

Tonight at 7:30 p.m. (EST), Go Long subscribers can hang out with former Buffalo Bills general manager Doug Whaley on Zoom. These days, Whaley is the senior vice president of personnel in the UFL. He’s also on the Pittsburgh Panthers staff, handling NIL and financial decisions.

Whaley has joined us before.

And I also caught up with the ex-GM ahead of the 2024 AFC Championship to discuss his old boss’ deep affection for Patrick Mahomes.

He’ll take you right inside an NFL front office with stories for days.

Whaley was named the Bills’ assistant GM in February 2010 and took over as GM in May 2013, where he stayed until May 2017. Real Football co-host Jim Monos, of course, served as his right-hand man during his tenure.

Prior to Buffalo, Whaley spent a decade in the Pittsburgh Steelers scouting department.

We’re bringing back Happy Hours all season long.

This is your chance to ask people in the NFL anything you would like.

Paid subscribers can join us at 7:30 p.m. (EST. Link below…

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Jordan Poyer got to the other side.

Last season, the longtime Buffalo Bills safety opened up on it all. Alcohol addiction. Pain pills. A teammate nearly dying on the field. Countless injuries. Playoff heartbreak. All of it took a debilitating toll on Poyer. Yet, he plowed ahead at one speed because that’s all he knows.

He was able to survive — and thrive — by getting in touch with mind, body and soul.

You leave a conversation with Poyer determined to change your own life. A trip to Costa Rica for an ayahuasca retreat may be difficult to pull off, but breathwork is right at the tip of our fingers. Poyer teamed up with , a revolutionary in the wellness and breathwork space. August is the founder of Beats and Breath and runs the excellent Substack, The Way of Mastery. I’ve gotten into Beats and Breath myself and cannot advocate for the app enough. It’s fantastic.

We thought it’d be a great idea to continue the conversation at the Go Long Podcast.

The art of something so simple — breathing — can change your life.

As the season closes in, NFL teams should pay attention, too.

Take it from August:

“I’m going to make a bold statement. I told Jordan this, and this is why we came together. I said the first team to adopt this as a practice, the first team to actually come together and breathe together — coaches including players — they’re going to be the ones that win it all. And I don’t care what type of team it is, whether it’s an NFL team, an NBA team, MLB team, a college team, it doesn’t matter.”

The margin for error is so exceptionally minuscule. We see it each January.

This could be the difference for a team on the cusp.

Both Buffalonians hope Joe Brady and the 2026 Buffalo Bills are paying attention.

Hope you all enjoy this one. What a fun ride this chat was, from August reliving the time he died and came back to life (seriously) to why Poyer sees himself as a future NFL head coach. You’ll learn more about the Bills’ excellent sports science department, too.

Video and audio is above. Prefer to listen on Apple or Overcast? Bang it here to sync your subscription. Instructions on syncing on Spotify are also here.

Download Beats and Breath here if you’d like. August combines breathing techniques with various beats that slip you into a calming state of zen.

For Go Long readers/listeners, he also passed along this track from the app that’s narrated by Poyer. Close your eyes and give it a try any time you’d like:

“Inner Edge,” with Jordan Poyer

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ICYMI:

Jordan Poyer’s Last Stand

2026 Season Preview Features to date:

The Kyler Murray Project, Part I: Liberated

The Kyler Murray Project, Part II: The Great Unknown

‘We will be the best offensive line in football:’ Q&A with Alec Anderson, Buffalo Bills enforcer

‘Who’s going to take this yard?’ The Arrival of Eric Wilson

Jordyn Brooks is the captain now

Dregs to Domination: The Aaron Brewer Blueprint

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