Let me be absolutely clear — what unfolded on that field tonight was a disgrace. A disgrace to the sport, a disgrace to anyone who still believes in fair play, discipline, and integrity. The moment a player from the other side abandoned the play, launched himself at one of my guys with no chance at the ball, it was obvious to everyone watching — that hit wasn’t instinct. It was intent. And for the rest of the world to pretend otherwise is embarrassing.

Some call it “physical football.” Some will try to sugar-coat it as “aggressive defense.” Let me tell you this: aggression might be part of the game. Intention to injure? That’s poison. And tonight, that poison was served up on national television, wrapped in smirks, taunts, and ridiculous celebrations — like the other team had just pulled off some heroic comeback rather than delivered a low-blow cheap shot in front of millions.

You and I both know exactly what happened. The eyes of fans around the country saw what we saw. That late “tackle”—no, that assault—didn’t come from an honest attempt to contest the ball. It came from frustration, maybe fear. Maybe the real reason they lost composure is because they knew deep down they were outmatched. So they turned to dirty tactics.

And what about the officials? The men supposed to guard fairness, to blow the whistle when it matters? They sat on their hands. Their hesitation. Their suspiciously delayed calls. Their refusal to enforce the simplest of rules. That silence, that inaction — it sent a message louder than any microphone. It said: “Violence is allowed. Cheap shots are fine.” And once the banner was raised, the other team marched forward with the full confidence that nothing would come of it.

Let’s talk about values. You preach safety. You preach sportsmanship. You have commercials advertising respect, discipline, fair play. But what good are those hollow words when you let your own players get buried under fists and fists of indifference? When you allow “clean football” to be redefined as “who can land the dirtiest blow without losing their helmet”? That’s not integrity. That’s a lie.

My team? My players? They played with heart. They played by the rules — even when the other side was acting like children in shoulder pads, more interested in cheap thrills than in winning honorably. They kept their composure. They didn’t retaliate. They didn’t stoop to the same low level. And yes, they won. 32–14 on the scoreboard. On paper, it’s a win. But let me tell you this: this win doesn’t erase the stench of how the game was dirty. It doesn’t wash out the shame of how that assault was disguised as “physicality.”

To the conference — to the officiating crew — hear this: you can’t keep hiding behind lazy whistles and vague excuses. You can’t keep basing “sportsmanship” on whoever throws the hardest hit, not on who played by the spirit of the game. Because if you do, you’ll hollow out the very reason this game exists. You’ll let violence replace skill. You’ll let cowardice pass as courage.

And to the fans watching at home — the ones who tune in believing they will see competition, heart, integrity — don’t let them fool you. Don’t let them sell you cheap shots with a smile and two words: “physical football.” You know better. You saw it. I saw it. And every football lover watching tonight knows exactly what line was crossed.

Let this stand: tonight wasn’t football. Tonight was a farce. A reckless, biased, violent farce — and everyone involved, from the helmeted thug to the whistle-blowers who stayed silent, should be ashamed. Because there is no honor in victory when it is built on the broken bones of fair play.

We demand better — for the players, for the fans, for the game itself. Because if we don’t draw a line now, who knows where the next cheap shot will land. And when it does, don’t say we weren’t warned.