Steelers’ QB Kenny Pickett: Rising Star or…
The Pittsburgh Steelers’ locker room was a cacophony of sounds—the rhythmic clatter of cleats, the low hum of pre-game tension, and the occasional burst of laughter from a group of linemen reminiscing about college days. Amidst it all, Kenny Pickett sat at his locker, staring at the nameplate in front of him like it was an enigma.
The questions had been swirling since the start of the season. “Is he the future?” “Can he take the Steelers back to the promised land?” For a second-year quarterback, the weight of expectation was heavy, but Kenny had always been used to pressure. Growing up in Pittsburgh, he’d dreamed of wearing the black and gold, following in the footsteps of legends like Terry Bradshaw and Ben Roethlisberger.
But as he entered the NFL, reality hit harder than any blitz he’d ever faced. His rookie season had been a rollercoaster—glimpses of brilliance mixed with flashes of inconsistency. And now, the stakes were higher. His starting role was on the line, with whispers around the league asking: Is he a rising star, or just another “what could have been?”
As the Steelers lined up for their opening drive against the Ravens, the energy was palpable. Pickett took the snap and dropped back. The pocket was clean—too clean. He had time to survey the field, but the play didn’t unfold as planned. The defense closed in, and the panic set in. Just make a play, Kenny.
His eyes darted to the right—his primary target was covered. He looked left, but the linebacker was closing fast. He could hear his offensive coordinator’s voice echoing in his head: You don’t have to win the game on one play. But there it was—his moment. He stepped up, broke the pocket, and with a quick glance, fired a laser of a throw toward the sideline.
The ball cut through the air like a missile, and in an instant, George Pickens snatched it out of the air, dragging two defenders with him for a 22-yard gain.
The stadium roared. In that single play, Kenny Pickett showed what made him special. It wasn’t the arm strength—there were plenty of quarterbacks with stronger arms. It wasn’t the speed—he wasn’t going to break any records there. No, it was his poise under pressure, his ability to read the game in the chaos. He was a natural leader, unflinching, even when everything around him was falling apart.
But just as quickly as the promise had shown itself, doubt crept in. The Ravens responded with a vicious defense, stifling the Steelers’ offense on the next few drives. Pickett’s confidence wavered. He’d made the spectacular throw, but now the game was slipping away from him. The tension in the locker room after halftime was palpable. The coaches huddled with him, giving advice, but the young quarterback knew the real test was about to come.
With the Steelers trailing by six points in the fourth quarter, it was do-or-die. The Ravens’ defense was swarming, their blitzes relentless. Pickett stepped back again, this time feeling the heat from every direction. His feet shuffled, trying to buy time, trying to create an opening.
And then, it happened.
As if the football gods themselves had stepped in, Pickett found a hole in the defense. A brief second where everything slowed down. He threw an off-balance pass to tight end Pat Freiermuth, who leaped and pulled in the catch despite a defender’s hand in his face.
Touchdown.
The stadium erupted. The Steelers had taken the lead, and Pickett stood in the center of it all, chest heaving, a smile creeping across his face. He had delivered when it mattered most. But the job wasn’t finished.
The Ravens still had time for a last-minute drive, and everyone in the stadium knew it was going to come down to one thing: Could Kenny Pickett keep his cool? Could he prove that he was the man to lead the Steelers back to greatness?
As the Ravens marched down the field, Pickett stood on the sidelines, eyes focused, hands clenched into fists. The defense held strong, forcing a final, desperate heave from Lamar Jackson. The ball sailed wide, and as it fell harmlessly to the turf, the game was over.
Steelers 24, Ravens 20.
The locker room erupted in celebration, but Kenny Pickett sat quietly for a moment, staring at the ceiling. Was he a rising star? Or was he just lucky this time?
The answer would come later. Football was a long game, a season full of tests. But for now, as the Steelers celebrated, one thing was clear—Kenny Pickett had made his statement. Whether or not he was a rising star, the world would know his name soon enough.
