In the high-stakes, adrenaline-fueled world of professional football, predictions are the currency of the realm. Every analyst, fan, and pundit has a take, a forecast, a bold proclamation about who will rise and who will fall. But in a league defined by its volatility, where fortunes can turn on a single play, accountability is a rare and valuable commodity. It’s this brutal honesty that sports commentator Colin Cowherd brought to the table in a recent segment, pulling back the curtain on his own preseason predictions to face the music—celebrating his bullseyes and dissecting his spectacular misses.

It was a masterclass in sports analysis, not just for the content of his calls, but for the willingness to publicly scrutinize them. In a media landscape often filled with loud opinions and quiet retractions, Cowherd’s self-assessment offered fans a refreshingly candid look at the chaos and complexity of the NFL and college football seasons. He didn’t just list his wins and losses; he delved into the “why,” exposing the foundational cracks in teams that many had overlooked and admitting where he had been blinded by hype.

The Bullseyes: Where Insight Trumped Hype

Cowherd began with his victories, the predictions that now look like prophecies. First on his list: the Kansas City Chiefs. While many were still dazzled by the Patrick Mahomes magic, Cowherd saw a storm brewing. He predicted the offense would be “thin” and that the team would be relegated to a wildcard spot . The reason? A lack of explosive playmakers, underlying issues with an aging Travis Kelce, and a glaring inability to establish a consistent running game. His foresight was painfully accurate. The Chiefs’ offense, once a high-flying spectacle, has often looked pedestrian, forcing their defense to stay on the field for exhausting stretches and ultimately proving that even a generational quarterback can’t do it all alone.

Perhaps his most controversial, and now prescient, call was on Aaron Rodgers’ move to the Pittsburgh Steelers. He forecasted a repeat of the Jets debacle, a scenario marked by poor run support, costly mistakes, and a defense that, despite its massive price tag, would fail to be truly dominant. Cowherd noted that a quarterback in the twilight of his career, no matter how talented, needs an ironclad support system—a powerful run game to control the clock and a stout offensive line for protection. The Steelers, plagued by persistent offensive line problems and a lack of discipline, could provide neither. The result has been a frustrated Rodgers, a tired defense, and an offense that can’t find its rhythm, punctuated by post-game comments from the quarterback calling out his own teammates—a sure sign of deep-seated issues.

Cowherd also planted his flag firmly in the corner of the Green Bay Packers, placing them at the top of his hierarchy. While others focused on the departure of Rodgers, he saw a team that was complete, deep, and brimming with young talent at key positions. With emerging stars at tight end and wide receiver and an aggressive defense, the Packers were built for sustained success, not a rebuild. His faith has been rewarded as they’ve emerged as one of the league’s most formidable teams.

His skepticism wasn’t limited to the AFC. In Miami, he questioned the genius of coach Mike McDaniel from the very beginning, suggesting his job was on the line. He pointed to a weak roster, a perennially broken offensive line, and a “wrecked” team culture as the ingredients for failure. Similarly, he didn’t mince words about quarterback Nico Iamaleava’s transfer to UCLA, calling it a colossal mistake. He argued that leaving a “football factory” like Tennessee for a program with a low commitment to NIL was a career misstep, a point driven home by UCLA’s dismal performance against a lesser opponent.

The Misses: When Reality Defied Expectation

Of course, the segment’s true power lay in Cowherd’s willingness to confront his own flawed judgment. He was candid about his misread on Caleb Williams, admitting he didn’t see the superstar quarterback struggling so profoundly. He pointed to Williams’ low passer rating, his tendency to hold onto the ball far too long, and his inexplicable throws to empty space as signs of a player in crisis, a stunning turn of events for a prospect once hailed as a can’t-miss talent.

His biggest miss, however, may have been his faith in the Denver Broncos. He had them pegged to win the AFC West, a prediction that imploded in a flurry of sloppy play, constant penalties, and self-inflicted wounds that left the team looking disorganized and unprepared. It was a stark reminder that talent on paper means little without discipline and execution on the field.

The Texas Longhorns were another source of Cowherd’s humble pie. He had penciled them into the national championship game, swayed by their immense talent and deep NIL resources. But their shocking struggle against UTEP, where star quarterback Arch Manning and the high-powered offense looked utterly lost, exposed a team that was far from ready for the big stage. The hype had been just that—hype.

This public reckoning serves as a crucial lesson for anyone who follows the sport. Football is not played on a spreadsheet. It’s a game of human dynamics, where chemistry, culture, and coaching matter as much, if not more, than raw talent. Cowherd’s analysis reveals that a strong running game isn’t just about gaining yards; it’s about controlling the tempo of the game and giving your defense precious time to rest, a philosophy perfectly embodied by the Eagles’ “tush push”. Conversely, the Chiefs’ inability to run the ball leaves their defense gassed in the second half, creating a fatal imbalance.

In the end, Cowherd’s honest self-appraisal was more than just good television. It was a compelling look into the heart of football analysis, where ego must sometimes take a backseat to evidence. It’s a reminder that for every triumphant prediction, there’s a humbling miscalculation, and true insight lies in understanding the difference between the two. The teams and players he discussed will continue to battle on the field, but the biggest takeaway is for those of us watching from the sidelines: in the beautifully unpredictable world of football, the only certainty is that there are no certainties.