Sunday, Aug. 16 (PM)
Updated Commentary – June 2025
I like Seattle Seahawks head coach Pete Carroll. A lot, actually. He’s come a long way since his early coaching days as a 28-year-old secondary coach on first-year Ohio State head coach Earle Bruce’s staff in 1979. Fast forward to today — Carroll just turned 73 this fall, and yet he still carries himself like someone in his 40s. It’s as if he’s discovered the Fountain of Youth. Energetic, optimistic, and unfiltered — he remains a breath of fresh air in a league filled with tight-lipped, hyper-strategic head coaches. Most coaches won’t admit the time of day if they think it gives away an edge. But Carroll? He’s still wide open, expressive, and completely himself.
There’s no “coach-speak” in the reigning dean of NFC coaching. Carroll doesn’t just think outside the box — he forgot there ever was a box. To him, the glass is always half full, and he expects everyone around him to see it that way too. No sulking. No looking back.
And yet, despite all his boundless energy and relentless positivity, I had to chuckle recently when I saw an old Sports Illustrated cover again — the one with Carroll smiling broadly beneath the headline: “Pete Carroll Won’t Be Haunted by His Super Bowl Decision.”
It quoted Carroll saying, “It’s much easier for me to move forward than most people.”
Maybe that’s true. Maybe Carroll does have an unmatched ability to keep moving. But if he truly believes that decision in Super Bowl XLIX — that decision — won’t haunt him for the rest of his life, then he’s kidding himself.
That moment is now part of his football DNA. Every time he turns around, it’s there, staring back at him. The more he tries to leave it behind, the more it clings to him. This isn’t a tattoo you can laser off. It’s more like a birthmark — permanent and unavoidable.
For those needing a refresher: Super Bowl XLIX. February 1, 2015. Seahawks down 28–24. Ball on the Patriots’ 1-yard line. Marshawn Lynch, who had just bulldozed his way to a 4-yard gain, stands in the backfield. And then — the unthinkable. Carroll calls for a pass. Russell Wilson throws. Malcolm Butler intercepts. Game over. Title denied. Dynasty derailed.
Carroll explained, then and since, that the call was based on clock management and matchups — that they anticipated a goal-line defense vulnerable to the pass. But none of it matters. He should’ve run the ball. It was obvious. Common sense. The overwhelmingly right choice. And the alternative? It’s widely considered the worst decision in championship game history.
But how does this tie into the Browns, you ask? Fair question — after all, this is A Daily Dose of the Browns, not Seahawks Weekly.
Enter: Red Right 88.
If you’re a Browns fan, you already know the pain. January 4, 1981. Browns vs. Raiders. AFC Divisional Playoff. Cleveland trailing 14–12, driving late. Ball on the Oakland 13. On a frigid, miserable day that had already seen kicker Don Cockroft miss two field goals, have an extra point blocked, and suffer from a bad back, head coach Sam Rutigliano made the call: go for the win. He called a pass — Red Right 88.
Brian Sipe, the NFL MVP that year, dropped back and threw to tight end Ozzie Newsome in the end zone. Intercepted. Game over. Season over. A generation of Browns fans heartbroken.
“I had the NFL MVP that year in Brian Sipe,” Rutigliano, now 94 and still vibrant, recalled recently from his Waite Hill home. “I wanted to win it with our best guy. That’s the difference between what I did and what Pete Carroll did. I trusted the right player in the right situation. Carroll had just gained four yards and didn’t run again. My decision was the right one.”
Looking back, Rutigliano’s reasoning makes more sense with time. He made a football decision based on a poor kicking game and the talent on the field. Still, perception often beats reality — and the perception remains: he should have run the ball, positioned it for a short field goal, and let Cockroft, back pain and all, attempt the win.
Even Woody Hayes’ old adage holds: “When you pass, three things can happen, and two of them are bad.” Rutigliano gambled and lost. Cockroft, one of the great Browns kickers, never got another shot — or another season. He was cut after the 1981 preseason and retired soon after.
To this day, Rutigliano and Cockroft — now close friends — travel together for book signings and Browns events. And still, the debate follows them everywhere. At a press conference in 2003 honoring the Kardiac Kids, Cockroft interrupted Rutigliano mid-sentence with a loud, “We should have kicked the field goal!” He wasn’t entirely joking.
Check out The 1980 Kardiac Kids book by Don Cockroft
He still hears about it from fans. “An older lady once walked right up to me,” Cockroft said, “got in my face, and growled, ‘They should’ve let you kick the field goal!’”
And then there’s Rutigliano’s story from years ago, while coaching in NFL Europe. He and his wife Barbara were strolling the streets of Sydney, Australia when a woman passing by turned, stared, and chased him down.
“You should’ve kicked the field goal!” she scolded.
She was from Cleveland.
So, Pete Carroll, take note. You can tell yourself that your Super Bowl decision won’t define you. You can insist you’ve moved on. But history doesn’t work that way. Sometimes, one moment latches on and never lets go — not in Seattle, not in Cleveland, not even halfway across the world.
Some decisions aren’t just plays. They’re legacies.
Steve King
READ NEXT: Going to the Muni Lot: Cleveland Browns Tailgating Tradition
