Caleb Williams has a habit of making us — the NFL world — uncomfortable.
He doesn’t care about optics. He doesn’t give a damn about what the average NFL fan (or GM or coach) might think. He reacts authentically.
He is sensitive. He feels. He hurts – publicly.
You don’t see that often in the NFL. You don’t see this enough, honestly.
Think back to when he asked his mother to cry in her arms at USC. Think back to when he let his mother paint his nails. Think back to that photo shoot where Williams sat in a — how do you put this? – vulnerable position.
And, of course, remember Sunday when he sat on the injury cart and pumped his fist with tears in his eyes.
This is the incident that has gone viral all over social media.
You can guess by now: I have no problem with it.
And it’s funny to watch people cry on social media over criticism of … another man crying. But it is not surprising. Hypocrisy is not hard to find on X, Instagram or TikTok.
Criticism is becoming absurd.
Memes – well, some of them are objectively funny. Stupid is right, now that we know he can play again in week three. The year is 2026. Williams isn’t just a public figure — he’s the rising superstar of the NFL, who is given to fans all season long through the media and crazy hype. He has chosen some of them, but not all. (The Bears and Williams, for example, declined a one-on-one interview when I visited camp this summer, in part because the buzz was going too far.) After scoring 59 points in Week 1, the Bears’ matchup against the Vikings was the most anticipated game of Week 2.
When he does something objectively theatrical, people will respond with good-natured jokes.
But the actual clutch of pearls and handshake?
The idea that the injury cart is somehow sacred and reserved only for career-ending injuries?
Get out of here.
Let’s go back to the game where the injury occurred for context.
Trying to escape a sack late in the fourth quarter, Williams slipped. He held his navel and screamedclearly captured by the broadcast. He punched the ground in frustration. The team got out of the carriage and – this part you’ve probably seen – he covered his face with a towel, eventually pulling it back to reveal his red, watery eyes. He pumped the air, like he was Kobe Bryant after tearing his Achilles.
This is high drama worthy of reality television.
But guys, I hate to break it to you. NFL IS reality television.
The NFL is all about its drama. It’s no mystery why crazy wanted to put Williams on its cover. He is fascinating on and off the field. He is a great footballer. But he is also unique. And it’s that sensitivity that — I think — makes him different from the average NFL player, coach or fan.
I can understand why Williams was upset. It’s not that different from the last time we saw her cry in public after that big loss at USC. It was the great disappointment of a lost occasion. He was at the 6-yard line — just a handful of yards short of a go-ahead touchdown. In an ugly game. Against a division rival. If he and the Bears had scored, no one would have cared that the Vikings won the X’s and O’s and thwarted what was supposed to be a historic Bears offense. That’s a hard thing to get out of an injury.
Caleb Williams has been wearing his emotions on his sleeve since his college days. (Photo by Jevone Moore/Icon Sportswire via Getty Images)
We also have no idea what that injury may have felt like – the level of pain. But I’m sure everyone can relate to a disappointment of this magnitude. The season looked very promising, even in that ugly game. For the rest of the fourth quarter, it looked like Williams’ season might be in jeopardy. Williams had to come to terms with his game – and his season – ending in great disappointment.
Then we got the first sign of good news.
“I’m actually glad it’s nothing with the knee. That was my first inclination,” coach Ben Johnson said during a postgame press conference. “But yeah, the navel can be pretty damaging as well. So we’ll see how bad it is tomorrow and go from there… We desperately need the points at that point. It’s a shame.”
Now here’s a criticism I’ll buy: Williams’ theatrics distracted the team’s focus in the game’s most crucial moments.
“Everybody wants to keep morale up,” Bears linebacker Grady Jarrett told reporters after the game. “Because Caleb is the guy here, and nobody wants to see him go down. We’ve definitely got to rally, do more. We’ve got to finish the game at the end of the day.”
Caleb Williams didn’t have an impressive performance against the Vikings, but the team’s problems outweigh that. (Photo by Patrick McDermott/Getty Images)
It’s a little hypothetical for my taste to wonder if the Bears would have won if Williams hadn’t taken the cart, pumped his fist, and had tears in his eyes?
If the answer is yes, then the Bears should examine their team-wide focus before examining Williams, because one man’s tears shouldn’t leave the other 47 players without resolve.
Football is a sport where the rigor is – literally – in a player’s scouting report. Of course, this series of events left us questioning Williams’ toughness. But more than that, if Williams is a superstar and he’s not “tough,” can he be successful in the NFL?
The way I see it: Tears don’t matter. Hip injury does.
If there was a way for Williams to play through the injury, then there’s a problem, because his departure worsened their chances. If there was no way for Williams to return to the field, then what are we arguing about? How did he leave the field?
Again, get out of here.
Let’s all take this opportunity to take a deep breath and try to get comfortable with watching a grown man cry. From my perspective, that’s what it’s all about. People don’t like to see their quarterback cry. I am not one of them. I’m all for it.