BUFFALO, N.Y. — An open letter to Josh Allen.
Dear Josh:
I know you know this, but it’s worth a reminder.
Whatever remains of the Buffalo Bills’ season rests firmly on your shoulder pads.
You’ve always carried the heaviest load, because that’s the primary job description of a quarterback. But given how things have come off the rails in all facets of the team since its 4-1 start, you’ve become the best (only?) hope for the Bills to reach the playoffs.
Notice I didn’t say, "Return to the AFC Championship Game." Or, "Reach the Super Bowl." Or, "Win the Super Bowl."
Those lofty expectations I once shared with numerous others can no longer be written or spoken with a straight face. For that matter, even calling the Bills a wild-card contender – your 7-5 record notwithstanding – is a borderline reach.
After Monday night’s 14-10 loss against the New England Patriots, everything we thought your season would hold – and by "we," I’m including you and your teammates and coaches who have all been every bit as giddy about the chances of going the distance this season as the most ardent member of Bills Mafia – must be put on hold.
That game revealed, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the Bills aren’t a championship-caliber team. You found a way to lose to an opponent that – regardless of who plays quarterback – has long set the standard for finding a way to win. Whether it’s scheming that leaves us second-guessing our football sensibility… or being explosive on offense… or smothering on defense… or superb on special teams… or simply making fewer mistakes, the Patriots have the patent on the success formula.
To be more specific, Bill Belichick owns it. You know, the same guy Sean McDermott felt compelled to publicly call out moments after the loss by admonishing the media not to give The Hoodie too much credit for the outcome.
Really? Belichick’s radical approach to the radical wind gusts at Highmark Stadium (by having rookie QB Mac Jones throw THREE passes while running the ball 46 times), something I thought would fail miserably but resulted in 222 yards on the ground and just under a five-minute edge in time of possession, merely reinforced the genius of the greatest coach in NFL history.
At halftime, I mentioned to WGRZ sports director Adam Benigni, "If this crazy game plan works, they should put it in the Pro Football Hall of Fame, right next to the one Belichick used as Giants defensive coordinator to beat the Bills in Super Bowl XXV."
I was only half-kidding.
Belichick was calculated in his approach, fully aware that it could have backfired. The foundation of his historically out-of-the-box thinking, though, was the firm belief his defense (with some help from Mother Nature’s wrath) would do its part to minimize the effectiveness of your offense.
Check. Take away your 39 rushing yards, and you had no running game. You made some impressive passes through all that wind, but this was another game where neither you nor your receivers showed the game-breaking form that defined last year’s 13-3 finish.
This was another game where the dynamic passing game that fueled all of those dreams of confetti flying all over you and your teammates as you hoist the Vince Lombardi Trophy was nowhere to be found.
With only four points separating the teams, it’s easy to point to a few moments that could have made the difference in the outcome. That fumble on the exchange between you and Matt Breida deep in Patriots territory. That 64-yard touchdown run by Damien Harris after the turnover. That Tyler Bass field-goal attempt that the wind whipped wide right. That pass you never threw to an open Cole Beasley that could have provided a three-point lead with under two minutes left rather than leaving the Pats with under two minutes to kill off to preserve the victory.
It’s also easy to conclude there are significant cracks in the armor. Stress was showing in a big way with your head coach’s uncharacteristic unhinged sideline behavior and the finger he pointed directly at your offensive coordinator and close friend, Brian Daboll, after the game for the offense’s failure to capitalize on an average drive start of your own 40 compared with New England’s average drive start of its 23.
The simple truth is the Bills can’t run and they can’t stop the run. There’s at least some degree of disconnect between your head coach and your offensive coordinator. If the postgame bristling of team leaders Micah Hyde and Jordan Poyer is any indication, it’s fair to wonder just how much the mounting pressure is weighing on the entire locker room.
So, Josh, it’s up to you to do what that big contract extension you received in August says you’re supposed to do.
You’ve got to put this team on your back and carry it the rest of the way. You’ve got to consistently make big plays with your arm and with your feet. You’ve got to be the antidote to those ever-growing gaps the defense makes available to opposing running backs.
You have a perfect opportunity Sunday, when you face the Tampa Bay Buccaneers and your boyhood hero, fellow northern California native Tom Brady. Don’t expect Bruce Arians, the Bucs’ coach, to borrow from the prehistoric portion of Belichick’s playbook, even if he does have an explosive running back in Leonard Fournette. Belichick’s beautiful coaching mind is rooted in defense; he doesn’t think twice about taking the ball out of his quarterback’s hands. Arians considers himself a "quarterback whisperer."
This is what he has whispered to Brady this week: "Throw! Throw! Throw!"
That’s because Arians rightfully anticipates that you’ll be coming after his team with a full-throttle passing attack. The forecast for Tampa Sunday is calling for plenty of warmth and minimal wind. It’s also calling for the air to be filled with Brady’s throws, because that’s what he and Arians do with an offense loaded with dangerous pass-receivers, including Fournette.
You and Daboll and your receivers must answer that, Josh. And you must keep that going through the four regular-season games that follow, including the crucial rematch against the Patriots on Dec. 26 at Foxborough, Mass.
Otherwise, Josh… well, you know the alternative.