A “dead-cat bounce” is a term used in finance to describe a brief recovery before an asset continues its inevitable decline. The idea is simple: even a dead cat will bounce if it falls from high enough. People see the bounce, convince themselves it means something, and buy in—only to realize too late that the thing was already gone.
That’s where the Bengals are right now.
This is the bounce.
Is it fun? Sure.
Watching a big man catch a pass in the flat and lumber toward the end zone will never not be fun, especially when it’s happening in a game your team is clearly going to win. Joe Burrow throwing for over 300 yards in three quarters before handing the keys to Joe Flacco? Fun. The defense looking competent? Also fun—though that had more to do with the opponent than anything else.
This is what the Bengals were supposed to look like all along. Doing it now, against one of the worst teams in football, doesn’t suddenly make it impressive. It just makes it too little, too late.
And this is exactly the kind of stretch that will be used as justification to run it all back. Zac Taylor in 2026. Al Golden in 2026. Same structure, same voices, same hope that next year will be different.
This late-season burst—when everyone is playing for pride and health rather than playoff positioning—is good for morale. It’s also a trap. Because there are no other teams in the league capable of moving the ball the way the Bengals can when everything clicks, Chase and Higgins remain the best wide receiver duo in football, and when Burrow has time, the offense can hang 40 on anyone.
The problem, as always, is that the defense is just as capable of giving up 50.
The last three seasons have been brutal in different ways. 2023 can be chalked up to injuries. But 2024 and 2025? Those are organizational failures. Fan morale feels as low as it’s been since the ’90s.
So yes, the Bengals are a dead cat. And what we’re watching right now is the bounce before it hits the pavement for good after Week 18.
When Taylor and Golden are both back on the sidelines in 2026, and the defense gives up 45 points in a soul-crushing overtime loss, remember these last couple of games. Remember how they were used as justification to change nothing.
Random Week 17 Thoughts
- I desperately wanted Ford to get the handoff inside the five and score. Nothing beats a big man touchdown. Maybe winning a Super Bowl does—but I wouldn’t know.
- Geno Stone is the worst-tackling safety in football. I’m tired of watching him fling himself at ball carriers like a loose shopping cart. He couldn’t tackle last year, and he still can’t now. Hearing Al Golden praise him feels like the setup for a contract extension, and that thought alone should terrify everyone.
- Dalton Risner, on the other hand, absolutely needs to be re-signed. He’s been a revelation at right guard, and his presence seems to have stabilized Amarius Mims as well. Keep them together. Protect Burrow.
- Ja’Marr Chase is now the only wide receiver in NFL history to begin his career with five straight seasons of 1,000+ yards, 80+ catches, and seven or more touchdowns. The only other player with five straight seasons of seven touchdowns? Randy Moss. We’re watching a Hall of Famer in real time.
- Joe Burrow tied Andy Dalton for most 300-yard passing games in franchise history—Dalton did it in 133 games. Burrow did it in 76. If this organization fails to put a championship roster around him, it’ll be one of the great wastes in NFL history.
- Myles Murphy continues to flash, and Shemar Stewart finally got his first career sack, but the pass rush as a whole still needs serious help heading into 2026.
- I’ve sung DJ Turner’s praises all year, but Dax Hill deserves recognition, too. Being thrown into the fire after Jessie Bates left wasn’t fair, and he’s grown through it. There’s something there.
- Add Jalen Davis to the list of players I’d like to see re-signed.
- And yes—keep Joseph Ossai too.
I have a lot I want to change in 2026. Or at least try to. I’m not at the point where I’m ready to emotionally check out on this team—but I can see it coming. If the Bengals are hovering around .500 again next year while Burrow watches the playoffs from his couch, I’m going to have to ask myself why I’m investing so much of myself into something that gives so little back.
My kids are getting older. Their schedules are filling up. Time is moving faster every year. Some weeks already feel like they disappear before I’ve even had a chance to enjoy them.
I can feel myself inching toward the same place my dad eventually reached—where the Bengals just stopped mattering as much.
This is the only life I get. And if something consistently brings more frustration than joy, I have to start asking whether it still deserves this much of it.
Happy New Year.
Time is never time at all
You never ever leave
Without leaving a piece of youth
And our lives are forever changed
We will never be the same
The more you change, the less you feel
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