Published: October 18, 2026 at 6:25 PM
TAMPA FL — W.P. Rader aka Captain Booty — BuccaneersFan.com
WEEK 6 POST-GAME REPORT
Steelers 26 - Buccaneers 19 Overtime: 1-5
THE CAPTAIN'S LOG
From the increasingly waterlogged logbook of Captain Booty and his emotionally unavailable Parrot.
THE TALGATE WAS UNDEFEATED!
Ahoy, Krewe.
For a glorious stretch of Sunday, everything around Raymond James Stadium was sailing beautifully. The grills were smoking, the flags were flying, and the Parrot and I were being fed as though every tailgate captain in Tampa had received advance warning that we were about to cross the Atlantic without provisions.
“Try a rib, Captain.”
“Have some brisket.”
“Ye haven’t tasted these wings.”
By the fourth generous invitation, I was accepting samples with the solemn expression of a man performing an important public service. The Parrot had barbecue sauce on his beak, both wings, and a patch of feathers that will require professional restoration.
We were dangerously close to a BBQ coma.
The bird attempted takeoff, gained approximately three inches, and requested a forklift.
“Excellent tailgate,” he wheezed. “Questionable aircraft loading & Fly-over.”
The President’s planned visit had been canceled. On our approach to the stadium, traffic had settled into the familiar game-day routine. Our dream of a stadium cover stayed rolled up in the crow’s nest, where it now shares storage space with several other ambitious plans awaiting signatures (Ye Krew of Pewter Pirates RUM Distillary) and a winning streak.
A little shade would have been lovely.
By the end of the afternoon, I would have settled for somewhere to hide.
APPARENTLY, PITTSBURGH HAD BOOKED THE WHOLE SHIP
Once inside, the Parrot climbed to his observation post and delivered the first troubling report.
“Captain, either we’ve sailed to Pennsylvania, or the entire state has followed us home.”
Black and gold everywhere.
Black and gold outside the stadium. Black and gold in the lower bowl. Black and gold up in the crow’s nests, with enough Terrible Towels spinning overhead to suggest somebody had opened an industrial laundry during a tropical storm.
From our perch, Steelers supporters looked to account for at least half the crowd. The Parrot’s highly unofficial census called it closer to 60/40 in Pittsburgh’s favor an estimate conducted by a bird who was still counting barbecue samples as separate meals.
Whatever the precise split, it felt painfully like a road game with a shorter drive home.
There were empty seats in the picture, too, which made the noise harder to digest. We appeared to have spare room aboard our own vessel while the visitors controlled the loudspeaker.
The Steelers faithful had come to support their seasoned captain, Aaron Rodgers, and they were making absolutely certain he knew where to find them. On the sideline spinning his Terrible Towel for his home away from home game.
I looked toward our pirate ship.
“Check the registration,” I told the bird. “Make sure nobody’s transferred the title.”
THE TIMEOUT THAT NEEDED ITS OWN TIMEOUT
Then came the video-board moment our section certainly hadn’t ordered.
During a timeout, one of the airmen from the pregame flyover produced a Terrible Towel from his jacket.
On the big screen.
At our stadium.
The Parrot stopped chewing.
That alone should tell ye how serious the situation had become.
If it was intended as a joke, the punchline landed considerably better among the visitors. Around our Krewe, the reaction suggested we had just discovered a Pittsburgh forwarding address on the cannon.
I had hoped that jacket might contain something useful.
A healthy thumb for Baker.
An extra touchdown.
Perhaps the paperwork for that stadium cover.
Instead, more yellow laundry.
A FORMAL REQUEST FOR THE PEWTER RUM TOWEL
This brings me to an urgent matter of fan development.
Somebody, PLEASE create the Pewter Rum Towel.
We need a proper Buccaneers answer to all that spinning fabric, and I believe it should serve a practical maritime purpose.
One wave: I require a refill.
Two waves: The Parrot has stolen my refill.
Three waves: We are protecting a lead, and I require supervision.
Continuous rotation: The lead is gone. Bring the whole cooler.
The towel should be pewter, trimmed in red, and absorbent enough to handle spilled rum, barbecue sauce, and the accumulated emotional leakage of a 1–5 football season.
The Parrot immediately appointed himself Director of Product Testing.
He has already misplaced the prototype.
FOR THREE QUARTERS, WE HAD A MAP
The most aggravating part of this particular shipwreck is that, for a while, the Buccaneers looked as though they knew exactly where they were going.
A’Shawn Robinson intercepted Rodgers. Jalon Daniels found Emeka Egbuka for a two-yard touchdown. Tampa Bay went into halftime ahead 13–3, then stretched it to 16–3 in the third quarter. David Walker contributed two sacks during the afternoon.
There was treasure in the chest.
There were boards in the hull.
There was even a suspicious amount of optimism circulating among people who should, by now, know to check the expiration date.
The Parrot began composing a victory speech.
I told him to use pencil.
Down on the sideline, Coach Todd Bowles appeared to have found another gear in his boots. There was movement. There was purpose. From our distant scouting station, his gait suggested a captain actively inspecting the rigging.
I began to wonder whether we had finally purchased the extended warranty on a fourth-quarter lead.
Then the fourth quarter arrived to explain the exclusions.
THE OLD SEA DOG FOUND THE LEAK
Rodgers spent much of the afternoon being inconvenienced by Tampa Bay’s defense. Unfortunately, inconveniencing an experienced quarterback and finishing him off are two separate entries in the ship’s manual.
His touchdown pass to Darnell Washington cut the advantage to 16–10. Chris Boswell followed with field goals that brought Pittsburgh level and then put the Steelers ahead 19–16.
The towels accelerated.
Our breathing did the opposite.
A lead that had looked substantial was being carried away a bucket at a time, and somehow we were the ones holding the buckets.
Then came the particularly unpleasant sight of former Buccaneer Jamel Dean intercepting Daniels and returning the ball deep into Tampa Bay territory to set up Pittsburgh’s go-ahead field goal.
Nothing brightens a difficult afternoon quite like an old shipmate boarding your vessel in somebody else’s colors and heading straight for the valuables.
The Parrot crossed out his victory speech.
He did not bother with an eraser.
THE ROOKIE KEPT ROWING
Daniels, making his third consecutive start with Baker Mayfield sidelined by his right thumb injury, kept trying to steer through it.
The undrafted rookie finished 22 of 43 for 164 yards, one touchdown and two interceptions. Across the water, Rodgers finished 33 of 49 for 253 yards and two touchdowns.
Those numbers belong in the logbook. So does the fact that the young quarterback spent too much of his afternoon trying to conduct business while Pittsburgh defenders rearranged the furniture around him.
There were mistakes. There were missed opportunities. There were moments when the experience gap between the two quarterbacks stretched wider than the shipping channel.
But the rookie kept rowing.
What Tampa Bay needed was more help keeping the boat afloat long enough for that effort to matter.
And with the score against us late, one reliable member of the crew answered the distress signal.
CHASE MCLAUGHLIN REFUSED TO LET US LEAVE QUIETLY
With eight seconds remaining, McLaughlin drove a 53-yard field goal through the uprights to tie the game at 19–19.
The Parrot sprang upright.
“WE LIVE!”
“Temporarily,” I said. “Please don’t make any large purchases.”
It was a magnificent kick: long, pressure-filled, and delivered at the exact moment our hopes were being fitted for a small wooden box.
For a few seconds, Raymond James felt like our stadium again.
We shouted. We waved. Somewhere, an imaginary Pewter Rum Towel passed its first emergency field test.
Overtime.
One more chance to find the treasure.
One more chance to remember where we had left the anchor.
OVERTIME: PLEASE REMAIN SEATED WHILE YOUR HEART IS REMOVED
Pittsburgh’s overtime possession consumed 6 minutes and 45 seconds, ending with Rodgers finding Germie Bernard for a six-yard touchdown.
Tampa Bay still had its opportunity to answer. Instead, on fourth-and-eight, Jalen Ramsey sacked Daniels and ended the game.
Steelers 26. Buccaneers 19.
Pittsburgh departed at 4–2 with its first road victory of the season. Tampa Bay fell to 1–5.
Across the fourth quarter and overtime, the Steelers outscored us 23–3.
That final stretch emptied the chest, removed the hinges, and left us a receipt for the plunder.
Somewhere during the unraveling, Bowles’s earlier sideline energy seemed to turn into the October shuffle our scouting department has officially named Frankenstein Looking for His Car in Lot 14.
The Parrot said we had returned to Raymond Graves Stadium.
I could not find sufficient evidence to argue.
We stood there while the towels spun and the visitors celebrated, two devoted Buccaneers creatures operating entirely on barbecue residue and the distant memory of a 16–3 lead.
For once, the bird had nothing to say.
No squawk.
No complaint.
No request for a snack.
I checked to make sure he was still a parrot.
NEXT PORT: A WITHDRAWAL IN CAROLINA
So we gather the flags, collect the surviving provisions, and plot our next voyage.
The Buccaneers visit the Carolina Panthers on Sunday, October 25, at 1:00 p.m. Eastern, at Bank of America Stadium.
The Captain intends to make a withdrawal.
One W.
Nothing elaborate. Nothing that requires a meeting with the branch manager. Just a modest transaction to keep this season’s account from being swallowed entirely by overdraft fees.
The Parrot is preparing the paperwork.
Under “Reason for withdrawal,” he has written:
WE HAVE ALREADY DEPOSITED ENOUGH DISAPPOINTMENT.
Under “Identification,” he has attached a photograph of us staring at the fourth-quarter scoreboard.
Under “Available collateral,” he has listed half a rack of ribs and a slightly damp towel concept.
We will point the bow toward Carolina, follow the coast as far as it reasonably allows, then accept the unfortunate navigational reality that Charlotte requires an inland transfer.
Even our ship needs a game plan.
The flags will still fly. The Krewe will still gather. Somehow, against all available accounting advice, hope will climb aboard again.
For tonight, though, Captain Booty and the Parrot are officially numb.
The cooler is closed.
The logbook is shut.
And the bird has finally offered one last piece of wisdom.
“Captain?”
“Aye?”
“Next week, can we hold the lead as long as we hold a tailgate?”
Raise the flags, Krewe. And somebody get to work on that towel.
GAME SOURCES
Tailgate, crowd, traffic and video-board observations were supplied by William P. Rader. The crowd split is framed as the Captain Booty and Parrot’s estimate. Captain Booty and Parrot dialogue and comic incidents are creative narration.
GO BUCS. FIRE THE CANNONS.
FEED BUCKY. FEED THE PARROT.
Per the words of Forest Gump… “And That's All I Have To Say About That”.
Beyond Game Day
W.P. Rader - In Full Disclosure; I'm Ready To Rock & Roll From The BOW.
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