The Lions came out flat. And for the first time in the Dan Campbell era, so did our hope.

For Marshall, the lackluster loss to the Green Bay Packers hit so hard he did what he’s never done under Dan Campbell: he shut the game off. And as he reached for the remote, he heard his father’s old refrain from childhood Sundays—“That’s enough.” To Marshall, this didn't feel like just sloppy football. It felt like the end of something.

David pushes back, pointing to new guards adjusting, penalties that can be cleaned up, and Campbell’s own postgame promise that things can be fixed. Together, they debate whether this was just one game’s collapse or the first crack in a dream we’ve waited decades for.

From the offensive line looking like a sieve, to contract decisions that raise more dread than excitement, to one jaw-dropping catch that did just enough to rope you in for next week, this is the conversation that every scarred Lions fan knows too well. Was this just one bad Sunday? Or is this who we are now?

Theme music: Mr. Jukes and Barney Artist, "Blowin Steam (Open Up Your Mind)"

New Green Bay Packers All-Pro linebacker Micah Parsons says trick plays are for cowards. The Lions say: see you at the line of scrimmage.

In this episode, we dig into the Lions’ evolving identity now that Ben Johnson’s razzle-dazzle is gone and John Morton is calling plays. Are the Lions really the “trick play” team Parsons thinks they are—or are they about to unleash a season of straight-up smashmouth football?

We revisit the unforgettable theater of Ben Johnson’s gadget plays, ask whether they ever truly fit Dan Campbell’s DNA, and wonder aloud if the magic of those Lions can possibly travel with Johnson to Chicago. Spoiler: we don’t think so.

From Hector “Macho” Camacho and Sugar Ray Leonard, to the Hogs of the ’80s then-Redskins and John Riggins passing out in his soup (seriously), this conversation ranges wide…but lands right where it matters: what it means to win by brute will instead of trickery—and why Micah Parsons might be living in the past.

Theme song: Mr. Jukes and Barney Artist, "Blowin Steam (Open Up Your Mind)"

Young Detroit Lions safety Morice Norris went down in a preseason game, and 67,500 people went silent, while rival players became an instant brotherhood. We start there: the moment both sidelines chose humanity over the scoreboard. From there, we wrestle with the myth of “the show must go on” and what it actually asks of the 21 men who have to play the next snap after seeing something they can’t unsee.

Then we go big-picture: is tackle football headed for a flag future? We make the case (rules trending safer, the Pro Bowl test run, the NFL logo on elementary-school flag-football flyers) and ask the real fan question: would we still watch? Also: if the NFL ever does flip to flags, Marshall has a prediction of who the prototype player would be—and it's one Detroit Lions fans know well.. After all, you can’t grab what you can’t touch.

We get personal about dads in the stands and our own anger. And we land on a confession only long-suffering Lions fans will understand: if Detroit wins one Lombardi before the flags fly, we could make peace with whatever comes next.

Because on that day, the headline writes itself.

Theme song: Mr. Jukes and Barney Artist, "Blowin Steam (Open Up Your Mind)"

We’ve got ten minutes and one big question: what does this Detroit Lions offense look like without the trickery?

In this episode, we ponder what offensive life will like post-Ben Johnson. We say goodbye to the razzle-dazzle of the former Lions offensive coordinator's bag of tricks—and ask if maybe we ought to be saying good riddance. We recall the joys of watching wide receivers block like stunt doubles and plays that felt like heists…but we also long for a grit-aligned "run it up the gut" mentality.

And we wonder: now that Johnson's gone, will they Lions be content to just win straight up? No misdirection. Just willpower.

Will the team miss the creativity? Or is this season about something deeper?

Theme music: Mr. Jukes and Barney Artist, "Blowin Steam (Open Up Your Mind)"

This one’s about the lies people tell—and the ones we tell ourselves.

We start with an update on David's beef with the Arts and Leisure department: that there's no real update, just silence. AI's suspicion as to why helps us transition to a new Netflix docuseries on the 1995 O.J. Simpson double-murder case, and how, thirty years later and with a clearer lens on American truth, Marshall sees the verdict with new eyes.

From there it’s on to football, where truth gets slippery too. From Aaron Rodgers "yada yada-ing" Aaron Glenn's involvement in his New York Jets release, to the Chicago Bears giving their 15-36 general manager an early contract extension, proof for Marshall that denial still runs deep in Chicago.

But this episode’s not cynical. It’s hopeful. Because from Frank Ragnow’s foot to Levi Onwuzurike’s back, this team appears to know the truth about its players. And if you’ve followed this franchise as long as we have, you know how rare—and refreshing—that kind of honesty can be.

Theme music: Mr. Jukes and Barney Artist, "Blowin Steam (Open Up Your Mind)"

They blew David off one too many times. Now, he's got the goods—and the AI-generated (with a little poke from Marshall) script.

David’s son Archer—high school junior and marimba wunderkind—wants to play for tips at the local farmer’s market. So David and Archer fill out the forms, submit the video, click all the right buttons.

Then…crickets. For almost six months.

Until David decides to do something.

Join David's two-week odyssey of polite persistence turned existential madness: seven visits to the Parks and Rec office, only to get the same bureaucratic shoulder shrug: “We’ll get back to you.”

Spoiler: they never do.

But here’s where it gets good: One day, David strolls past the farmer’s market only to find—wait for it—a flower child for hire in sandals and a peace-sign hoodie, serenading shoppers with... “Blowin’ in the Wind?" And beside her: a neon green tip bucket.

Cue the AI-generated Freedom of Information request, cue David planning a full Rupert Pupkin lobby visit—and cue Marshall egging him on.

What started as a kid just wanting to share his gift turns into a meditation on the irresistable force of a dad who will not be ignored.

You'll laugh. You’ll rage. You’ll want to listen to Archer play the marimba.

If you’ve ever been told to wait your turn and your turn never came—this one’s for you.

Theme music: Mr. Jukes and Barney Artist, "Blowin Steam (Open Up Your Mind)"

Our Season 3 opener has anticipation written all over it. David and Marshall go through the draft pick by pick—and despite the residual pain of last season's abrupt end, we can't help but get axcited. From instant reactions to long-view strategy, we break down why Brad Holmes just might still be in One Step Ahead Mode. We unpack the hunger, heart, and dawg-eat-dawg energy that got added to this roster—and why we're finally okay trusting, in this organization, in the culture—and in what’s coming. Theme music: Mr. Jukes and Barney Artist, "Blowin Steam (Open Up Your Mind)"

[NOTE: Pardon Marshall's mic on this episode—it isn't connected properly. And David did try to warn me, but I told him it was on HIS end…]

In this belated season finale, we explain why we ghosted you all—and the Lions—as we reflect on our emotional journey as fans of this team. We discuss the impact of the team's strong regular season and stunning playoff exit on our lives: the emptiness left in the wake of the season's abrupt end is essentially why we've been Lions-free since the Commanders loss. We also share our continued high hopes for this team's future, as general manager Brad Holmes faces another test: sustaining, and improving on, the roster he created. Theme music: Mr. Jukes and Barney Artist, "Blowin Steam" (Open Up Your Mind)"