I am not behind the scenes. I just hope things aren’t what they seem sometimes. But I fear they are.
I didn’t get to know the Cincinnati Bengals under Paul Brown. The Paul Brown Bengals were my father’s team. My team has always been, for better or worse, the Mike Brown team.
While I was born in the early ‘80s, my football consciousness didn’t spark to life until the ‘90s, and I found myself stranded in a football Sahara, where the grains of sand were losses, and wins come like rain.
Then came the the 2000’s, and everything changed.
Marvin Lewis and Carson Palmer didn’t win a Super Bowl. Hell, they didn’t even win a playoff game.
But they won, and in doing so, they proved winning was possible here in Cincinnati. That carried over into the Andy Dalton era, which continued to lay tracks for the franchise. Now, the conductor is Joe Burrow and there is more potential for greatness than ever before.
I hope.
I say I hope because nothing is guaranteed, and Burrow’s greatness doesn’t mean the Bengals will win a Super Bowl. It’s not a guarantee the Bengals could even ever get back there in Burrow’s time in stripes.
That could be fear talking, though.
Common football knowledge says the No. 1 ingredient into a Super Bowl team is an elite quarterback. The Bengals have that, but 2024 proved they have to have a defense too. They drafted some talented defensive players, including an athletic edge rusher and two linebackers, all of whom could see significant playing time in 2025.
And yet, they apparently haven’t even spoken to Trey Hendrickson—the league’s reigning sack leader and the only proven pass rusher on the roster.
Why?
How?
I get he’s over 30. I get edge rushers often hit a wall in their 30s. And I get he wants more money—he’s earned it. But the Bengals haven’t done anything close to replacing him. If Shemar Stewart is their answer, then they’re placing a lot of faith in raw athleticism translating immediately.
I hope they learned from the 2024 collapse. But I’m afraid they’re gambling—from one proven edge to zero. I hope they’re not playing chicken with Hendrickson, betting he’ll play out the deal instead of sitting out. But I’m afraid that’s exactly what they’re doing.
It’s a business. But it’s not a good look.
The whole point is this:
I know the Bengals have to fix their defense to contend in 2025. They also had to retain Burrow’s top weapons, Ja’Marr Chase and Tee Higgins. They did that, which means the offense should look like 2024’s—only with (hopefully) a better offensive line.
But where does that leave the defense?
Without Trey, they’re worse. After the collapse that was the 2024 season, gambling on Hendrickson breaking—or on Stewart being ready from Day 1—doesn’t feel like a plan. It feels like a hope.
Hoping is my job, not theirs. Theirs is to make this thing work.
And I know I’m not the man in the arena. I don’t call plays or negotiate contracts. All I have are hopes and fears.
I hope they’re close.
I fear they’re not close enough to be this comfortable losing their best pass rusher.
And because I was raised in the Mike Brown Bengals era my fears tend to speak louder than my hopes.
But hope is what keeps you going in the desert.
Here’s hoping the rain comes soon.
I have spoke with the tongue of angels
I have held the hand of the devil
It was warm in the night
I was cold as a stone
But I still haven’t found what I’m looking for