In Cleveland’s roaring, sweat-soaked locker room—still buzzing from a night that felt more like a Hollywood script than an NFL matchup—Myles Garrett finally let the world know exactly how he felt about Shedeur Sanders stepping in as QB1.

And what he delivered wasn’t just an opinion.

It was a seismic message, a brutally honest evaluation, and a bold declaration about where this franchise is headed now that a rookie has stepped into the storm and taken control of the narrative the Browns tried desperately to manage.

 

For the first time all season, the walls of Cleveland’s locker room seemed to vibrate with something that had been missing for years—unity, swagger, and a pulse strong enough to electrify the entire fan base.

Even before the cameras rolled, insiders watching Garrett’s body language described a man who wasn’t simply relieved by a win.

He was energized, locked in, and carrying the weight of a truth he was finally ready to unleash.

 

Garrett, the franchise face, the defensive monster, the walking highlight reel, appeared almost amused by how the night unfolded.

In his mind, history had already been written before Sanders even touched the field—because the defensive line knew exactly what they were capable of.

And on this night, they unleashed a storm that left Cleveland vibrating across social media, talk shows, and every corner of the NFL universe.

 

With ten sacks crashing down on their opponent and multiple defenders putting their names into the record books, Garrett didn’t see the game as a personal victory.

He saw it as validation.

His teammates across the line had reached a new level, and Sanders—of all people—was the unexpected spark that ignited it.

But the moment everyone is talking about came later, when Garrett addressed Sanders’ rise with a level of raw honesty that stunned even the most seasoned beat reporters.

He didn’t tiptoe.

He didn’t dodge.

He didn’t sugarcoat.

He made it clear he had watched Sanders closely, studied every decision, every throw, every moment of pressure.

And what he saw lit something inside him.

 

Garrett, usually controlled and soft-spoken, seemed almost overwhelmed when describing the one throw Sanders made that changed everything—not just for the game, but in Garrett’s mind, possibly for the entire franchise.

When Sanders dropped the ball right into the tightest window of the night, refusing to panic, refusing to force the ball, and refusing to lose control, Garrett’s internal alarm went off.

He recognized something most rookies don’t have: calmness in chaos.

And in that moment, Garrett became a believer.

 

This wasn’t about hype.

It wasn’t about headlines.

It wasn’t about draft-day drama or off-field whispers.

Garrett saw something real.

Something repeatable.

Something that screamed franchise potential.

 

But the truth hiding behind Garrett’s confidence goes deeper than anyone expected.

 

According to team insiders, Garrett has been frustrated for weeks—frustrated with play calling, frustrated with slow offensive starts, frustrated with the weight the defense has been forced to carry year after year.

The Browns have built one of the most terrifying defensive fronts in the league, and Garrett, already a future Hall of Famer in many minds, has been aching for an offense capable of giving the team more than stressful fourth quarters and razor-thin margins.

So when Sanders stepped in—when he showed not just talent, but poise, guts, and precision—Garrett didn’t see a temporary replacement.

He saw hope.

He saw a path to January.

Possibly even February.

And for the first time in a long time, he let himself say it out loud.

 

Behind closed doors, coaches and executives were stunned by Garrett’s tone.

They weren’t expecting conviction.

They weren’t expecting optimism.

And they definitely weren’t expecting a defensive captain to essentially declare the beginning of a new era.

But that is exactly what the energy felt like inside the room.

 

Even as reporters swarmed him, Garrett kept circling back to one theme: growth.

Not just his own, not just the defense’s, but Sanders’ development week after week.

Garrett watched the rookie take hits, adjust protections, improve timing, and build chemistry with every receiver on the field.

He knew consistency wasn’t yet guaranteed—but the ceiling was suddenly sky-high.

 

Garrett also made it clear he saw something equally important: respect.

The rookie didn’t walk in with arrogance or entitlement.

Instead, he arrived with hunger and humility, the two qualities Garrett considers essential for long-term success.

That combination, in Garrett’s eyes, is what separates a flash-in-the-pan quarterback from a generational talent.

Off the field, insiders say the defensive line has already embraced Sanders far more quickly than anticipated.

They feel his energy.

They admire his confidence.

They appreciate his fearlessness under pressure.

And they see him as someone capable of pulling the team out of the cycle of heartbreak and mediocrity that has defined Cleveland football for decades.

 

Garrett himself seemed moved by how the team responded to adversity—pointing out that Sanders wasn’t carried by the defense, but complemented it.

With every pass, every read, and every moment he extended the play, Sanders added a spark to the team’s identity.

 

Garrett described this synergy as one of the most exciting dynamics he has ever witnessed in Cleveland.

His pride in the defensive unit was unmistakable, but his belief in what they could become alongside Sanders transformed the tone of the night.

Analysts watching the footage said Garrett looked like a man discovering a new purpose—one that extended beyond personal accolades or records.

 

And speaking of records, Garrett is now closing in on one of the most coveted marks in team history—another milestone fueling the fire inside him.

But even as he inches closer, he refuses to let the spotlight drift away from what matters most: winning.

Not moral victories, not hype cycles, not speculation—real, meaningful wins that could crack open the postseason door.

He knows the road ahead won’t be easy.

He knows the Browns must stack victories, overcome flaws, and silence critics who have already dismissed them.

But he also knows something he didn’t feel earlier in the year: momentum.

 

For the first time since he arrived in Cleveland, Garrett isn’t carrying the belief alone.

The team believes.

The fans believe.

And most importantly—the quarterback believes.

 

That last piece, the Sanders effect, is what insiders say has rejuvenated the locker room.

Garrett sees in Sanders what every elite defender prays for: a quarterback who can capitalize on the moments the defense creates, not waste them.

 

The night ended not with exhaustion, but electricity.

Garrett walked out carrying both pride and purpose, knowing he had just witnessed something special.

 

Whether Sanders becomes the long-term face of the Browns remains to be seen.

But in Garrett’s mind, the rookie didn’t just earn the job.

 

He earned the right to lead.

 

And in Cleveland, that means everything.