In the wake of a seismic coaching shift, the Pittsburgh Steelers face a more immediate threat than contract disputes or draft-day wobbles: the fragility of their special teams unit.
Personally, I think the real story here isn’t simply that talented contributors have left, but what their departures reveal about organizational depth, succession planning, and the stealthy costs of sweeping leadership changes. When a longtime coordinator like Danny Smith exits and a new voice steps in, it’s not just a headline—it's a reshaping of dozens, maybe hundreds, of routine plays that determine field position, momentum shifts, and even the outcomes of tight games. The Steelers entered this offseason with a clean slate on special teams, and the slate, as it stands, looks worryingly thin.
A quick reality check: the last season’s accounting of special-teams snaps is revealing. James Pierre, Connor Heyward, Corliss Waitman, Miles Killebrew, and Calvin Austin III each logged significant action on returns, coverage, and protection duties. When you add Kenneth Gainwell’s 144 snaps and Jabrill Peppers’ 206 snaps—particularly his role as the personal protector on punts—the cumulative total eclipses a thousand plays. That isn’t a modest churn; that’s a wholesale reboot in a phase of the game many teams treat as a discipline. What this really suggests is a systemic exposure risk: you can’t replace 1,000 snaps with a few prayers to the special-teams gods and expect identical results.
From my perspective, the most urgent hole is the punt return slot. Calvin Austin III was the on-field spark there, and the roster currently lacks a proven heir apparent. The draft presents a potential elbow room to fix this—names like Iowa’s Kaden Wetjen pop up as intriguing options—but the fact that there isn’t an obvious internal candidate speaks to a broader issue: the Steelers’ depth in return-specific playmakers may not be as robust as their reputation. If you accept that punt return efficiency correlates with field position and momentum, you’re talking about a meaningful difference in how often an offense starts with favorable odds. The risk calculus for Crossman is real, and it’s not mitigated by one signing or a veterans-only plan.
Kicking is another pressure point. Chris Boswell is a proven commodity, but a new holder—after Corliss Waitman’s move to San Francisco— introduces a fresh variable into the kicking equation. It isn’t merely about snap timing; it’s about the cadence and trust built with a rotating group of specialists. In this case, Boswell’s comfort with Cameron Johnston has historical texture, but history also reminds us that kicking isn’t a static skill; it’s a rhythm that can drift when personnel lines shift. What makes this particularly fascinating is how a single phase—holders and snappers—becomes a subtle indicator of organizational stability or fragility. If the Steelers can’t lock in a consistent holder, even the best kickers can misfire in high-leverage moments.
And then there’s leadership, the ship’s rudder. Replacing a four-year captain like Miles Killebrew is not as simple as sliding in a younger face. Payton Wilson’s ascent helped, but leadership is less about loud declarations and more about dependable, repeatable execution under pressure. The on-field captaincy of special teams has ripple effects: it shapes guy-by-guy reliability, fosters a culture of precision, and signals to the locker room that the coaching staff is building a durable, adaptable unit. In my view, the early-stage leadership vacuum is as much a test of coaching philosophy as it is a test of talent acquisition.
The broader context is telling. Under Danny Smith, Pittsburgh’s special teams had earned a reputation for well-timed pressure, solid tackling, and minimal egregious errors. The combination of an overhaul in the coaching staff and the departure of multiple veterans creates a perfect storm for miscues or miscommunication—errors that teams without the margin for error cannot afford. What many people don’t realize is how quickly special-teams chemistry becomes invisible until it isn’t there. The “hidden yards” gained or lost in return coverage and the reliability of snaps don’t always show up in preseason hype reels, but they shape outcomes in December more than any single big-play highlight.
From a broader trend perspective, this situation is a microcosm of how teams balance talent churn with continuity. High-performing programs don’t just stockpile talent; they curate a pipeline of specialists who can plug into a system with minimal friction. The Steelers’ current crossroads—retaining core special-teams philosophy while integrating new personnel and a fresh coordinator—highlights a perennial NFL tension: disruption is not a bug, it’s a feature of a dynamic roster. If they navigate it well, Crossman’s unit could emerge sharper, more adaptable, and less predictable for opponents. If not, the unit risks becoming the week-to-week swing factor in a league where field positioning and momentum often swing games late.
One practical implication is roster construction in the coming months. The Steelers will likely lean on internal development at the same time they hunt for under-the-radar veterans who can deliver immediate impact in coverage, on returns, and as backups. The draft, particularly special-teams-oriented picks, could tilt the balance toward players who can contribute on special teams while still growing into broader roles. This approach has merit: you don’t want to naturalize a group of specialists who only exist to fill boxes, but you do want players who can contribute across schemes and special teams phases. The real question is whether Pittsburgh will invest in a pipeline that scales or rely on stopgap fixes that delay the growth of a cohesive, versatile unit.
In conclusion, the Steelers’ special teams are at a crossroads that isn’t getting the attention it deserves in some circles. It’s not merely about missing a few snaps here and there; it’s about whether the organization can build a resilient, multi-layered unit after an ownership of change. Personally, I think the outcome will say a lot about the franchise’s long-term planning: can they marry fresh energy with a continuity of technique, or will the special-teams phase become an annual pivot point that diverts focus from other pressing needs? If they rise to the challenge, Crossman can craft a squad that doesn’t just survive transitions but thrives in them. If they don’t, the early-season swagger of the Steelers could give way to a quiet, costly erosion where the margins that once won games become the margins that define their season.”}
