The Bengals’ breathtaking meltdown late in Saturday’s Wild Card game allowed the Steelers to escape with an 18-16 win, and all things came together as Pittsburgh weathered Cincinnati’s Burfict storm.
The storm hit Cincinnati. And the Bengals, by the grace of their own stupidity, drowned in it.
Trying to recreate the chaos that ensued during the fourth quarter of Saturday’s Steelers-Bengals game through words is a disservice. What we witnessed was AFC North football at its peak: a brutal, rainy, low-scoring, and dirty game. Magnify this with a playoff atmosphere in a town that hasn’t seen a postseason win in 25 years.
Steelers-Bengals III was hard to watch regardless of affiliation. Injuries left and right, flags being tossed around like bean bags at a tailgate, down pours throughout.
But tough times bring out tough people, as the saying goes, and the Bengals – as well as the city of Cincinnati – revealed everything we needed to know about them in their pathetic defeat.
It was finally happening.
The inexperienced AJ McCarron led the Bengals back, as his team tallied 16 unanswered points in the fourth quarter. Ben Roethlisberger was injured, rendering the sluggish Steelers offense completely sedentary. Pittsburgh was reeling on defense. The Bengals were about to get that Playoff win, and they were taking down the big bad Steelers to boot.
LANDRY JONES’ PASS IS INTERCEPTED BY VONTAZE BURFICT! Oh, the agony. Watching as Cincinnati’s head scumbag sealed the Steelers’ postseason fate… brutal. Until…
JEREMY HILL FUMBLES! STEELERS’ BALL! Ryan Shazier, dominant all night long, stripped the ball juuuust before Hill’s knee hit the turf. 1:26 left.
This ones on me... This city this organization deserves better only thing to do is continue to fight and come back stronger
— J Hill (@JHilly3327) January 10, 2016
Roethlisberger, nursing a battered shoulder and all, re-entered the game for the closing drive. You really think he was going to watch this from the sidelines? A handful of quick passes later, and the Steelers were hovering around midfield, almost in field goal range.
The sequence that then ensued was, perhaps, only achievable by Marvin Lewis’ Bengals. On a pass intended for Antonio Brown, Burfict couldn’t control himself any longer. In his trademarked casual manner, Burfict knocked AB out cold with a shoulder pad to the jaw. The targeting couldn’t have been any more obvious. Personal foul. 15-yard penalty.
Steelers linebackers coach Joey Porter marched over to the scene of the crime to cuss out Burfict and his cronies. Porter might not be on the field anymore, but he’s no stranger to the rivalry. Cincinnati’s Adam Jones yapped back, and in doing so, bumped into an official. Another 15-yard penalty.
The Bengals handed the Steelers 30 yards in a 30 second span, all stemming from a play in which Burfict could have avoided altogether. Burfict and Jones whined and acted confused, as they always do. Cincinnati fans joined them. But deep down, they all knew what had happened. The Bengals beat themselves again. FIVE straight Wild Card defeats.
Chris Boswell, 4/4 on the night, chipped in the game’s final points to give the Steelers the 18-16 victory. Thanks for everything, Shaun Suisham, but your time is up. The Steelers now will travel to Denver for next week’s Divisional round.
In defeat, the Bengals and their deprived fans cemented themselves as a pitiful franchise. Fans threw trash onto Ben Roethlisberger as he was carted off, and they proceeded to throw more after a call that didn’t go their way shortly after.
Bengals players couldn’t handle the pressure either. Burfict’s hit on Brown is, well, normal. As I’ve waxed poetic about before, this man needs a permanent ban from the NFL. The term ‘repeat offender’ doesn’t do him justice. Burfict avoided many reporters after the game, because you can only cover up your crimes for so long. Hill losing the fumble and Jones’ outburst were also vintage.
They did it. The Bungles returned to their primetime, playoff form right before the nation’s eyes. What gets lost in the ruckus, though, is how the Steelers responded in the face of their own adversity.
Going into this week, Pittsburgh trembled as third- and fourth-string running backs Fitzgerald Toussaint and Jordan Todman suited up to replace DeAngelo Williams. Don’t get it twisted: without those two, the Steelers lose this game.
Todman posted 65 yards on 11 rushes. Toussaint racked up 118 total yards, including his huge third-down conversion catch on the final drive. Two nobodies, at least by NFL standards, facing a killer Bengals defense in a playoff game, and they delivered. Hat tip to them.
Remember that challenge Big Ben issued to Martavis Bryant earlier in the week? “ got to make tough plays and tough catches”, Ben said of his young receiver, following two straight weeks of no production. “He has potential to be the best in the world.”
That he does. Bryant reclaimed the highlight reel Saturday, taking an end-around 44 yards and then making an improbable, behind-the-leg catch in the corner of the end zone. His stat line wasn’t conventional, but Bryant proved his quarterback right. If Bryant stays on the right track, the Los Angeles Rams are going to be offering him a 5-year, $100 million contract in a few seasons.
The rains that fell in Cincinnati were just the beginning of the Burfict storm. The Bengals had their coveted playoff win in their hands, and they threw it right back to the Steelers.
Cincy fans can cry all they want about Porter’s presence on the field, or Shazier’s hit on Hill, but that endgame is constant: the Bengals screwed themselves over. For that, there’s nobody to blame but the ass-hat players themselves.
The Steelers are hanging on to Super Bowl dreams by the skins of their teeth. This is a team with obvious flaws that still need worked out in preparation for next Sunday’s rematch with the Broncos, and possibly beyond.
Even if these Steelers don’t win their seventh Lombardi, though, they did force the Bengals to self-destruct in a way that only the Bengals can. And that’s the next best alternative.
All stats used from NFL.com.