The Kansas City Chiefs kicker recently drilled a 69-yard attempt that would have shattered the all-time distance record. Thankfully, the league has stepped in to ensure this abomination will never see the inside of a record book.
I was enjoying a dry martini after a recent owners' meeting when I caught the replay. Harrison Butker, a man whose entire job consists of jogging onto the field for twelve seconds at a time, stepped up and drove a football 69 yards through the uprights during a preseason game. The crowd cheered. The commentators in the booth marveled. But I just shook my head. This league has a problem, and its name is unchecked specialist hubris.
The NFL has rightly decreed that because the kick occurred outside the strict parameters of a countable regular-season situation, it will not be recognized officially. And frankly, we should all be sending Roger Goodell a thank-you note.

If we start writing down every 69-yard field goal just because a player successfully kicks it during a sanctioned NFL event while wearing an NFL uniform, we lose the very essence of the sport. What happens to the grind? What happens to a ten-play, clock-chewing drive that ends in a gritty, character-building punt? The modern fan might love the cheap thrill of a ball flying three-quarters of the length of the field, but the eye test tells a different story. It tells the story of a league getting soft.
We have to protect the integrity of the current 66-yard record, which was achieved with the proper level of regular-season corporate sponsor integration.
Exactly right, Dale. I was having sea bass with a senior rules committee member a few weeks ago, and we spent two hours lamenting this exact trend. The modern kicker is too coddled. In my era, if a kicker even looked at the 50-yard line, the special teams coordinator would make him walk home. Now, they are stretching on customized yoga mats and demanding space in the record book for an exhibition kick. It is a complete collapse of institutional discipline.
You cannot build a respectable environment in the locker room if your offense knows they only need to cross their own 40-yard line to get three points. It breeds complacency. Why would Patrick Mahomes even bother looking for a tight end when he can just sit down on the turf and let the kicker handle the rest of the afternoon?
The fans demanding this kick be validated simply do not respect the delicate ecosystem of the league. You let one 69-yard preseason field goal in, and suddenly you have to acknowledge every rogue achievement that happens on a football field. Before long, we will be counting joint-practice interceptions, Thursday afternoon walkthrough touchdowns, and the time a punter accidentally threw a spiral during warmups. It is a slippery slope toward absolute anarchy.
Some bleeding-heart stat nerds are crying foul. They argue that physics is physics, and a 69-yard kick is an objective reality that occurred in the physical universe. But the NFL record book does not exist to document reality. It exists to enforce a narrative. It is a sacred text, and you do not just scribble a new chapter into a sacred text just because a guy in a single-digit jersey got lucky with a tailwind in August.
Let Butker brag to his friends. Let him post the clip on social media. But when the history of this great game is written, that 69-yard kick will be exactly where it belongs: completely eradicated from the institutional memory of the National Football League, just as God intended.