Myles Garrett, Blatantly Honest About Shedeur Sanders’ Performance Against Miami — and About Cleveland’s Standard

In the locker room glow of a comfortable, three-score win, Myles Garrett didn’t reach for platitudes. He reached for the throttle.

“Hell yeah,” he said when asked if it finally felt like the kind of half the Browns have been hunting all year. The All-Pro edge rusher described a defense unleashed—ears pinned back, hunting, dictating—and, just as notably, an offense and special teams that gave the defense permission to be its truest, most aggressive self.

Garrett’s postgame remarks came attached to a video whose original headline misnamed the opposing quarterback; to be clear, the discussion centered on Shedeur Sanders, not Dillon Gabriel. But the real headline of the night was Garrett’s unvarnished assessment of Cleveland’s identity and accountability.

A defense back to itself

Garrett detailed a plan that moved him around the line, by design and by instinct, to keep Miami guessing. He didn’t dwell on any one matchup or call; he stressed the effect—confusion. “Keep them on their heels,” he said, the kind of alignment roulette that “scares the hell out of coordinators.”

The Browns leaned into their pressure personality. Garrett lauded defensive coordinator Jim Schwartz for dialing up more risk—corners and safeties sent, leverage tested, tempo owned. “That’s the Jim I know,” Garrett said, pleased to see the return of an “aggressive, in-your-face defense” he believes can be sustained all season, provided the unit commits to it.

One player epitomized the edge: Grant, who, in Garrett’s words, was “balls to the wall,” flying to the football and making opponents “feel him.” It wasn’t chest-thumping; it was a veteran star recognizing another tone-setter.

Leadership, straight no chaser

Garrett also didn’t duck last week’s frustration or the pointed words he delivered on Friday. If it ruffled feathers, so be it. A captain’s job, he suggested, isn’t to massage the message but to make sure it’s heard.

“I’m always going to tell it how it is,” he said, adding that nothing he says publicly is different from what gets said in-house. The goal isn’t to embarrass—it’s to align. The standard, as Garrett framed it, is non-negotiable: win, and win like this. Not as a one-off, but as a habit. “An obsession,” he called it.

That ethos isn’t limited to the stars. Garrett credited the entire chain—players and coaches—for the grit it takes to pivot from 1–5 to a dominant performance. The team, he said, is a mirror of its leaders. And leadership, Sunday, looked like buy-in on every level.

The moment that cracked it open

Garrett singled out Tyson’s interception return—“a hell of a way to introduce yourself”—as the moment that blew the game wide. From there, the defense could pin its ears, compress the field, and force Miami to play in a phone booth. The Dolphins, Garrett noted, weren’t eager to hold the ball or extend plays. Without that, “they didn’t really have any other way to move the ball.”

It’s telling that Garrett didn’t spike the football after. He cautioned against getting too high or too low, urging teammates to “learn from it” and then replicate it. The work isn’t a destination; it’s a rhythm.

A backfield with bite

While the defense wrote the script, Garrett tipped his cap to the runners who closed the book. He highlighted Quinshon’s spinning, tackle-shedding burst in the fourth quarter—“most guys would’ve gone down clean”—and nodded to Jerome and Dylan for timely contributions. If Cleveland is going to make a real run, those closing punches matter as much as the early body blows.

What this actually means

Strip away the obvious adrenaline, and Garrett offered a sober thesis: one cathartic win doesn’t fix a season, but it can recalibrate it. The Browns aren’t chasing a feeling; they’re trying to institutionalize one. Pressure as identity. Honesty as policy. Standards that don’t wobble with the scoreboard.

And about that headline correction: it matters because details matter. Garrett’s message was, at heart, about precision—of rush lanes, of blitz timing, of words. On a night when Cleveland rediscovered itself, calling Shedeur Sanders by his name is a small echo of the larger point. Get the little things right, relentlessly, and the big things—like wins that don’t feel close—start to take care of themselves.