Myles Garrett continues to break records for the worst team in football

Myles Garrett Continues to Break Records for the Worst Team in Football

In a league where team success often determines legacy, Myles Garrett has become the rare exception—a superstar whose individual brilliance shines even as the franchise around him struggles to find its footing. Week after week, season after season, Garrett continues to redefine what dominance looks like from the edge position, piling up historic numbers while playing for what many analysts have, at various points, called the worst team in football. And yet, if you were to watch him in isolation, you would never guess he plays for an organization drowning in dysfunction.

This season has been the clearest example yet of Garrett’s transcendent ability. Despite his team’s record plummeting early, despite coaching turnover, offensive ineptitude, and a defense that too often caves when he leaves the field for a breather, Garrett is on pace to shatter multiple league and franchise marks. He has already surpassed his previous career highs in pressures, tackles for loss, and forced fumbles—all while facing constant double-teams and protection schemes specifically designed to slow him down. Somehow, nothing works. Garrett has become almost mythic: the player who cannot be stopped, even when every reason around him suggests he should be.

On a roster where inconsistency is the norm, Garrett has become the stabilizing force—not just statistically, but emotionally and culturally. Coaches describe him as “the engine,” players call him “the anchor,” and analysts label him “the only reason this defense hasn’t collapsed entirely.” And still, the team loses. Sometimes in close heartbreakers, sometimes in blowouts that feel familiar, sometimes in ways so bizarre they become national talking points. But Garrett’s tape tells a different story: here is a generational pass rusher giving everything he has, snapping records in half, rewriting expectations, and refusing to quit.

Part of his evolution comes from sheer physical maturation. At 6-foot-4 and 272 pounds with near-unmatched explosiveness, Garrett entered the league as a physical marvel. But over the years, he has sharpened his technique, diversified his pass-rush arsenal, and mastered the art of reading offensive lines mid-snap. Coaches have noted that he’s now diagnosing plays like a middle linebacker, dissecting protections as fast as quarterbacks analyze coverage. That combination of intelligence and athleticism has made him nearly impossible to neutralize.

Opposing coordinators openly admit they have to build their weekly game plans around him. Some commit a tight end and a running back to chip him. Others slide their entire line toward his side. Some try quick-release passing games designed to minimize his window of impact. But like gravity, Garrett always finds a way to pull the quarterback toward him. His pressure numbers have become so absurd that even in the games where he records zero sacks, analytics show he still affects more plays than almost any defender in football.

Yet this brilliance is also what makes the team’s struggles feel more glaring. “You have a player who could win Defensive Player of the Year on any team,” one analyst remarked recently, “but he’s stuck in a system that wastes elite seasons.” The frustration is real among fans too. Social media often erupts after games, with supporters begging the franchise to surround Garrett with real help—another pass rusher, a stable secondary, an offense that can hold leads long enough for the defense to matter. Instead, Garrett finds himself carrying the weight of multiple units, often keeping games competitive almost by himself.

And through all of it, he remains remarkably composed. Garrett has never pointed fingers, never thrown teammates under the bus, never complained about his situation. Instead, he has doubled down on effort. After a particularly brutal loss earlier this season, Garrett told reporters, “I can’t control the scoreboard. I can only control my effort, my preparation, and my leadership. If I play at the highest level every week, maybe it inspires the guys next to me to elevate too.” That attitude has earned him universal respect, even from rivals.

Inside the locker room, younger players speak of him almost reverently. They talk about how he arrives early, stays late, mentors rookies, and keeps spirits up even during four-game losing streaks. They describe how he lifts the mood in film sessions, how he invites defensive linemen to extra walkthroughs, how he shows them the subtle tricks of hand usage and leverage that have made him elite. For a team lacking direction, Garrett has become the compass.

Meanwhile, the league continues to take notice. Garrett is on a statistical trajectory that could one day push him into the rarefied air of the all-time greats. Analysts compare him to Lawrence Taylor, DeMarcus Ware, Reggie White—legends who not only dominated their era but transformed the very way offenses were built. Garrett, they argue, is doing the same, except with far less support.

And that’s the enduring irony: the worst team in football somehow boasts the best pass rusher of his generation. It’s a paradox that frustrates fans, amazes analysts, and challenges conventional thinking about how individual greatness is measured. Most players need the right system, the right roster, the right coaching, or the right moment to thrive. Garrett thrives despite everything.

Whether the franchise eventually builds a contender around him remains to be seen. But one thing is already certain: every Sunday, regardless of standings, talent level, or chaos swirling around him, Myles Garrett steps onto the field and changes the sport. He continues to break records, defy expectations, and deliver performances that make even hopeless seasons feel worth watching.

And if this is what he can do on the worst team in football, the league can only imagine what he might become if he ever gets the support he deserves.