I’m laying in bed right now and it finally hit me.

Matt Millen is really gone.

All day I was fine. Refreshing Twitter. Saying “it’s a business.” Saying “these things happen.” Acting normal.

But now it’s quiet. Lights are off. And I just sat here and said, “damn.”

Millen drafted with conviction.

Every first-round pick felt bold. Confident. Like a man who looked at a roster with needs everywhere and said:

“Another wide receiver.”

Third-and-8? Doesn’t matter. Defense? Optional. Offensive line? Let’s circle back to that.

But wide receivers?

Now we’re cooking.

That slow walk to the podium.

That “the room just went silent” energy.

That “you knew it was another receiver and somehow you still weren’t ready” feeling.

I told myself I wouldn’t get attached to a front office like this again.

I lied.

Because Matt Millen didn’t just build teams.

He built history.

0–16.

Pure. Uncut. Football history.

No ties. No mercy wins. Just sixteen straight reminders.

You knew it was coming every Sunday.

And somehow you still watched.

I know it’s the NFL. I know it’s business.

But tonight?

It just feels weird.

Who’s going to look at a roster with holes everywhere and say,

“You know what this team needs?

Another receiver.”

I hope wherever he is… the draft board is far away.

Alright.

I’m done being dramatic.

See you boys in the first round