What leads a coach to risk it and not go for the three points?
On Sunday night, Sean Payton was sitting in his office at the Denver Broncos facility, watching film of their opponent in the upcoming AFC Championship game: the New England Patriots. I wanted to have the divisional round game between the Los Angeles Rams and the Chicago Bears in the background. He turned on one of the flat screens in his office. He changed channels, and somehow ended up on Nickelodeon, watching “Dora the Explorer.”
He finally found the right channel, just in time for the Bears to make a crucial decision on their first possession. On fourth-and-two from the Rams’ 21-yard line, they decided to take a chance rather than attempt an easy field goal, the same type of decision that has dominated the Pro and College Football Playoffs this season, and which can be key to winning a close game or a major reason for a loss.
Payton watched the Bears line up on offense and narrowed his eyes. “Let them kick,” he said.
On the play, Caleb Williams was intercepted, costing Chicago three points, the difference in the final score.
“Why don’t coaches kick field goals?” Payton asked, returning to game preparation.
That decision for coaches — when to take a chance on fourth-and-short and when to kick — has become one of the most scrutinized and controversial decisions in football, a recurring theme in sports debates. For most of pro football history, it wasn’t even a decision. The coaches opted for points. That began to change in 2002, when a renowned Cal-Berkeley economist named David Romer published a paper titled “Is It Fourth Chance and What Does the Bellman Equation Say?”
Using Bellman’s equation—Ei Di(gt) Vi = Pgt + Bgt Ei Di(gt+1) Vi – egt—Romer’s conclusion was clear: The odds of what could happen after a successful conversion on fourth-and-four or less outweighed those of kicking a field goal or, in some cases, punting and playing with field position. Simply put, the math was telling coaches to be more aggressive.
Romer’s findings did not become common knowledge until more than a decade later. Streams now include real-time analytics with percentages. Coaches like Dan Campbell of the Detroit Lions consider it a priority and part of their identity. Evan Rothstein, the Broncos’ director of game management and assistant offensive line coach, is one of Payton’s most trusted and valued members of the coaching staff. He came to Denver from Detroit and the New England Patriots, where he learned from Bill Belichick, who revolutionized American football strategy in specific situations. On Saturday mornings during football season, Rothstein gives fascinating presentations to Payton and the coordinators, analyzing key moments from the previous week’s games and concluding with data-backed opinions on what to do if the Broncos find themselves in a similar situation.
But ultimately, the final decision is Payton’s.
Generally, if the Broncos are advancing and facing a fourth down with few yards to go, they will seriously consider attempting the conversion. If it’s fourth and one yard after the opponent fumbles and gives Denver a short field, Payton will typically opt for points.
Sunday’s AFC championship game was different, of course. It was different because quarterback Jarrett Stidham was making his first start of the season after star Bo Nix broke his ankle the week before. It was different because Denver’s defense hadn’t played particularly well against top teams since the bye week. It was different because the Broncos could have easily lost to the Buffalo Bills in the divisional round due to the inefficiency of their red zone offense: just one touchdown in four attempts. And it was different because a ticket to the Super Bowl was at stake. All of these factors can be used to argue for or against attempting the fourth-and-short conversion.
In the second quarter on Sunday against New England, the Broncos led 7-0. They advanced to the Patriots’ red zone. On third and six yards, Stidham ran to the right to gain 5 yards, reaching the rival 14-yard line. This left a fourth and a yard, and a family decision. Denver had gained yards on every play of that drive, and to that point, its defense had forced three punts.
“I wanted 14-0,” Payton told me later.
Attempting conversion is one thing; finding a good play is another. Payton ordered a formation of 11 players (a running back, a tight end and three receivers) and, from that, called a running play called Nickel Duo. “A sub-run defense against a sub-front defense,” he explained.
Payton then called a timeout. I wanted to think.
Nickel Duo was Denver’s best running play for fourth and short; Slipper Naked, a trick play with a pass to the right, was his best passing play for fourth and short. He opted for the pass. But at snap time, the Patriots surprised Denver by playing Red 2, a zone defense, behind a six-man defensive line. The play had no chance. Stidham threw the ball into traffic, incomplete. Denver not only missed a chance to score three points, but also its last, best chance at easy points. The Broncos never got this close to the end zone again the rest of the game. “I wish I had kept the opening play,” Payton lamented quietly as he left the stadium. “The formation they showed in the videos and the one we saw on the field was not the one we found.”
Denver, the best team in the AFC and considered the underdog at home for both playoff games, lost for many reasons. The Broncos failed to run or catch the ball well. They missed two field goals. Stidham fumbled in the second quarter, leading to New England’s only touchdown, and threw an interception late in the game. Denver’s defense played one of its best games of the year, but didn’t force any turnovers. A priority all week, both in coaches’ planning sessions and team meetings, was containing quarterback Drake Maye and stopping him from running. Maye finished with 10 carries for 65 yards and a touchdown, including a run to the left that sealed the game with just under two minutes remaining.
But Denver also lost because of Payton’s decision. Something about fourth-down plays brings out the explainable and inexplicable in coaches, the rational and the irrational. You never know what will happen. To this day, Belichick regrets attempting the fourth-down conversion against the New York Giants in Super Bowl XLII. In Sunday’s NFC Championship game against Seattle, the Rams’ Sean McVay, a coach often criticized for not taking enough risks on fourth down, and who opted for field goals against Chicago the week before and won, attempted the conversion twice on fourth down midway through the fourth quarter, with the score trailing 31-27, earning a first down on one occasion, failing on the second and running out of points in the loss. Why do some fourth down conversions succeed and others fail?
Sean Payton hates when people try to rationalize a missed opportunity or a botched play by shrugging their shoulders and saying, “That’s football.” It is an affront to his essence and everything he represents, when he and his team work 18 hours a day to impose their will in a game that seems decided by chance.
But the truth is that that’s American football. And it always will be. After Sunday’s game, Payton walked into his small office, down the hall near the locker room. He sat down and stared at the ground. He is 62 years old and has been a head coach for 19 years. He has one Super Bowl win and many devastating playoff losses. There was silence, broken only by the scattered sounds of the season’s abrupt end: the echo of a curse word, the murmur of coaches and staff milling around.
A few moments passed. Payton sat up.
“I can’t believe we lost.”
A few more seconds passed.
“That fourth chance…”
