Bold truth: the Steelers may be at a crossroads that demands a serious look at whether it’s time for a coaching change. Since taking over in 2007, Mike Tomlin has guided the team for nineteen seasons and counting. He’s never posted a losing record, yet he hasn’t secured a playoff victory since 2016. If no postseason win comes this year, Tomlin would have gone nine seasons without a playoff win after his first decade in charge.
With the team currently 6-6 after a 4-1 start, the question gains traction: should there be a change at the top for the Steelers and Tomlin alike? There’s a case to be made on both sides. A fresh start could benefit the franchise, and a shakeup might shake loose any stasis that has settled in.
At present, Tomlin sometimes appears less unsettled by the team’s struggles than the situation warrants. Part of the reason could be the Steel Curtain’s historical reluctance to part ways with coaches. It’s almost a ritual: a new voice every few years, a steady stream of revenue from fans who pack the stands, buy parking, consume concessions, and snap up merch. The business keeps humming even when every season doesn’t meet expectations.
That ingrained complacency can fester. Tomlin earns roughly $16 million per year, a level of financial security that makes the trials of a single season feel manageable, especially with a Super Bowl title already in the bank from his second year. Why churn through discomfort when employment at a high salary is virtually guaranteed?
Tomlin has become pragmatic about the current malaise, even as fans loudly called for his ouster during the famous Renegade moment on Sunday. When asked about the situation, he acknowledged the entertainment dimension of football in an entertainment business: if the Steelers aren’t winning, they aren’t providing the spectacle fans crave, and that hurts on multiple levels.
Implicit in that stance is a belief that fans will keep coming back, drawn by hope and the prospect of better days ahead. Money will continue to flow, and so will Tomlin’s paycheck. This isn’t a personal critique of Tomlin so much as a reflection of a larger pattern: the Steelers’ approach diverges from what most NFL teams do when a season stalls.
Most NFL head coaches live with the reality that job security is fragile—the odds of being fired are part of the job description. Tomlin, however, benefits from a combination of past successes and a deep-seated organizational culture that prizes stability, which reduces the likelihood of a sudden departure.
That dynamic tends to produce stagnation. The bar is set high, but the gap between ‘good enough’ and sustained excellence can drift. Short of a total collapse, Art Rooney II may not pull the plug on Tomlin.
If Rooney is comfortable with that calculation, that’s his prerogative. The real question for Steelers fans is whether this represents a temporary dip or a chronic issue—one that could threaten long-term enthusiasm and trust.
After nearly twenty years together in an industry known for upheaval, the team and the coach might have settled into a comfortable rut. They win enough to avoid a rebellion, and they generate enough revenue to placate the pocketbooks of ownership and the business side. The lingering concern is that fans want more than a one-and-done playoff push; they crave sustained, meaningful progress.
Ultimately, the longer the fan base keeps showing up, the more the pattern of the past nine seasons may persist, unless a decisive shift pries loose the logjam of complacency.
