Let the boy watch:Josh McDaniels Found His Bag, the Browns Found Pinocchio, and We Found Out Ray Doesn’t Know Our Password
Oh, babies—before we talk ball, congratulations to Ray for locking us out of our podcast platform by mashing the wrong password like it owed him money. If you watched live on YouTube Tuesday, October 28th, savor it. That’s the only place you could have seen it because “password1234” and “smallboner69” (we checked) weren’t it. If anyone knows our actual password, email adamarel04@gmail dot com and tell him he’s pretty.
Anyway—Patriots 32, Browns 13. Score looks comfy. It wasn’t at first. Because this team, god love ‘em, is the best second-half team in football and the worst first-15-minutes team in Pop Warner. They adjust like savants…and open games like they just hit snooze on a NyQuil alarm.
Lethargic, Nthargic—Pick Your Misspelling
Let’s start with the funeral we hold every week for the first quarter:
Offense: First red-zone trip? Sack on third down. Field goal.
Second red-zone trip? Sack on third down. Field goal.
7–6 when it should’ve been 10–6 if Cleveland’s kicker could hit a barn with a Buick.Defense: First opponent drive? Touchdown. Again. This time Fannin Jr. strolls in untouched because we decided to blitz Spillane like we’d never seen play-action.
Tackling? Bad. Like, “business decision in late November” bad.Pressure: None. Barmore got benched in the first quarter (discipline, rumor says). He later played great, which is the Barmore Experience™—equal parts havoc and homeroom slip.
They look lethargic—or, as we workshopped live, Nthargic—like they ran the pregame hype intro, fist-pumped, and then immediately needed a nap.
The Bright Spots While We Were Yelling
Two dudes popped off the screen (in a good way):
Christian Gonzalez: You rarely see him because quarterbacks don’t try him. When they do, he tackles and then talks—including a little chirp at Jerry Jeudy with the classic “I know I’m better and my face says it” smirk. Not soft. Not shy.
Marcus Jones: Balling and bagged an extension. Captain. Human joystick. Postgame, he drops the quote of the night: “Have fun with my bros for real.” T-shirt pending.
And a hat tip to Jaylinn Hawkins, who one-handed a pick like he’d glued lizard pads to his glove. Meanwhile, Cleveland’s QB Gabriel…look, he’s not a real quarterback. I don’t say that to be mean—I say it because the safety was a sitcom blooper reel and the vibe was Pinocchio in shoulder pads. Let the boy watch…from the bench.
The “We Actually Coach Here” Portion of the Program
Here’s the headline: Josh McDaniels cooked. Mic’d up. In control. Seeing the defense before the snap and calling checkmate while the Browns still set the board.
Out of halftime, the masterclass drive:
QB throwback misdirection to get Cleveland guessing.
Jet sweep to widen and rush their edges.
Fake jet sweep → boot → Henry TD (16–7), and the game’s body temperature started to drop.
Cleveland’s edge guys were wrecking the tackles? Fine—call a series where you don’t have to block the edge. It’s like avoiding tolls on the Pike because you’d rather take the back roads and still beat everyone there.
Then came the avalanche:
Spillane INT → short field
Rub route with Hollins frees Diggs → TD, 23–7 with 6:45 left in the third.
Ballgame. Winning time arrived early.
All told: Patriots 23–6 in the second half. Again.
Mic’d-Up McDaniels: “Break Their Will”
If you missed the mic’d-up reel, go find it and bring a bib because we’re glazing. McDaniels:
Calls leverage pre-snap (“37, back up inside…got it…hike”) and then watches the exact window open for the Boutte strike.
Coaches Maye without turning it into a TED Talk: “It ain’t over. Get your guys ready and go score again.” Then the pastoral nudge: “Slide down, slide down.”
Details Boutte’s route after the 40-yarder—footwork, stem, shoulder sell. Not just “good job, kid”—do it this way, again.
Partners with Diggs like it’s a co-captaincy: Diggs says, “Let’s go break their will,” and then carries the message to the sideline like an offensive foreman—clipboard in one hand, sledgehammer in the other.
This isn’t just play-calling; it’s game-state orchestration. Sequence, tempo, kill-shots. He’s playing chess, and the Browns are eating the pieces.
Maye Watch: The 300-Yard Discourse and Other Simple Minds
We are apparently not allowed to call Drake Maye an MVP candidate until he throws for 300 yards, per Ray’s personal stone tablet. Cool. While we wait for the number that makes Ray’s balloon animals inflate, note this: there were about 10 minutes of Maye excellence that put the game in a headlock. Off-script movement, clean decisions, surgical in the third quarter. You don’t need 300 yards when your OC is dealing and your defense tightens the screws after halftime.
Defense: Benefiting From Competence (What a Concept)
Yes, the first drive looked like a trust fall with no catcher. After that? Tackling cleaned up, middle of the field tightened, and once the offense stacked scores, Cleveland became one-dimensional and very sackable (or at least very “panic-throw-able”). Funny how complimentary football still works when you, you know, compliment each other.
Vrabel vs. McDaniels: Polite Distance Is Fine by Me
Ray asked Tommy DeVito whether Mike Vrabel is sticking his nose in the offensive room. Answer: Nope. He peeks, he leaves. It’s McDaniels’ baby, as it should be. We tried the “every head coach touches everything” routine last year and it looked like a potluck no one labeled. This year: lanes stayed painted. Let the OC cook. Let the HC manage the clock, vibe, and sideline. Revolutionary stuff.
The First-Half Problem We Can’t Ignore
We can coo over scheme and leadership all night, but why can’t this team start strong? You’ve got Wednesday and Thursday to script a competent opener and you still open with red-zone sacks and loose tackling? Stop spotting professional offenses their first sugar high. The second-half fixes are great; the preventable first-quarter tire fire is not.
Notebook Dump (a.k.a. Things We Yelled Mid-Show)
Marcus Jones extension: Earned. Captain energy. “Have fun with my bros for real.”
Gonzalez vs. Jeudy: Premium chirp. Premium clamps.
Barmore benching: Message sent, message received, production delivered.
Hawkins’ one-hand INT: Poster.
Gabriel’s safety: Laughed out loud, then rewound, then laughed again.
T-shirt queue: “Nthargic,” “Let the Boy Watch,” and “Have Fun with My Bros for Real.” Ray, spin up the Shopify; Christmas is coming.
The Drive Chart That Broke Cleveland’s Spirit
Right before half: 3rd-and-23, hit a crosser to Boutte, sneak out a FG for 9–7. Then:
Open 3rd Q: trick → motion → boot to Henry (16–7)
Spillane INT
Rub route frees Diggs TD (23–7) at 6:45 in Q3
From there, defense tees off, offense keeps the ledger tidy, and we all go home warm.
Final Word
This was McDaniels’ Mona Lisa with a Sharpie mustache drawn on the first quarter. The second-half machine keeps rolling: 23–6 after halftime, again. Fix the opening script, keep the Diggs-Maye-Boutte triangle humming, let Gonzo & Marcus Jones bully receivers, and stop bench-pressing our own throats in the first 10 minutes.
Also, someone please text Ray the correct password before next week. Try “BreakTheirWill37!” If it works, I’m taking credit. If it doesn’t, email Adam. He loves help.
