Aaron Rodgers Gets the Last Word: Steelers Edge Jets 34-32 on Boswell’s 60-Yard Dagger

Sixty yards, silence, and a statement

Chris Boswell stood at midfield, the game on his right foot and a stadium holding its breath. His 60-yard rocket split the uprights with 1:03 left, and MetLife Stadium went from buzzing to stunned quiet in a blink. For Aaron Rodgers, the kick was more than three points. It was closure. The Pittsburgh Steelers beat the New York Jets 34-32 on Sunday night, and the quarterback they let go in the offseason authored the finish.

Rodgers didn’t gloat. He didn’t need to. His play did the talking: four touchdown passes, no turnovers, two scores in a wild 50-second burst that flipped momentum in a game that never really sat still. When it mattered most, down 32-31 with just over three minutes to go, he got the ball and turned a long field into a winnable one.

The drive that set up Boswell’s dagger had everything: patience, nerve, and one absurd slice of luck. On a pivotal snap, a short throw found DK Metcalf’s hands, glanced off, got a hand from Jets corner Sauce Gardner, caromed off safety Andre Cisco, skimmed past tight end Jonnu Smith, and somehow drifted back into Metcalf’s grasp as he tumbled forward. Eleven yards. New life. Sideline stunned. Those are the plays you replay on Monday and still don’t quite understand.

That sequence captured the game: chaotic, competitive, and razor-close. The Jets traded blows with Pittsburgh all night and took a late lead that felt like a dagger of their own. But Rodgers answered with the one thing he’s made a career out of—control. He milked the clock, protected the ball, and nudged the Steelers into the one patch of turf Boswell needed. From there, 60 yards never looked so short.

Afterward, Rodgers kept it direct. “I love beating everybody,” he said. “It doesn’t matter who it is.” When asked about topping new Jets coach Aaron Glenn and the team that cut him loose, he didn’t dodge: “I was happy to beat everybody associated with the Jets. I gave as much as I could to the team. I didn’t have any hard feelings about it not working out. I didn’t maybe appreciate the way it went down in the end, but that’s in the past. And we’re 1-and-0.”

If the night felt personal, the football was clinical. Rodgers’ four TDs came without the gambling throw that often punishes quarterbacks in openers. No panicked balls into traffic. No strip sacks from holding it too long. Just rhythm: quick outs, timing routes that hit the break, and deliberate shots when the Jets softened up. It’s the template teams dream about—clean, efficient, and deadly in the red zone.

New York matched it with grit and pace. The Jets got explosives when they needed them and pushed the Steelers to play catch-up early. They didn’t blink after the 50-second Pittsburgh flurry, either. The late field goal that put them up 32-31 had the building swaying and the sideline roaring. They just couldn’t make the last stop.

Pittsburgh’s winner came down to situational basics. Rodgers varied the snap count to slow the Jets’ rush. He kept the chains honest with underneath throws on early downs, which set up the chance to test tight coverage later. On the Metcalf miracle, the ball placement was just safe enough to survive the tips and chaos. And once the Steelers crossed midfield, the call sheet got conservative by design: no hero shots, no wasted downs—the goal was Boswell’s range, not style points.

About that range: 60 yards is a career-long for Boswell, and it changes how defenses will think about Pittsburgh’s endgame math. If you can steal three points from the logo, every late defensive set must stretch out, and that opens lanes Rodgers has used for years. The Jets knew it, sagged to prevent a chunk play, and still couldn’t squeeze the decisive five to eight yards that Boswell turned into history.

The quirky play of the night—Metcalf’s tip-drill conversion—will be replayed until it feels normal. It wasn’t. Gardner read it, got enough of the ball to break the rhythm, and then Cisco made the kind of second effort that usually kills drives. The ball bounced off more bodies than a subway turnstile and still landed back with Metcalf. Athletes talk about “making your own luck,” but this was football’s weird physics helping a team that had earned a break by staying poised.

Strip away the drama and you still have the essential story: a 40-year-old quarterback changed teams, got cut loose in a city that craves stars, walked back into that city in black and gold, and beat the franchise that moved on. That stings. It’s also why the league keeps delivering these opening-week gut punches—because the calendar doesn’t care who’s supposed to be past his prime.

Rodgers’ control, Jets’ regret, and what it means next

This wasn’t just a good night for Pittsburgh; it was a blueprint. Protect the ball, win on third down, trust your kicker, and let a veteran quarterback manage the temperature of the game. Rodgers toggled pace, stole free plays with hard counts, and kept the Jets out of the splashy turnover they hunted all night. When the window opened—those 50 seconds in the second half—he didn’t hesitate. Two touchdowns, just like that, and the entire tone shifted.

For the Jets, there’s no way around the optics. They released a future Hall of Famer, hired a new coach in Aaron Glenn, and watched the player they moved on from stack touchdowns on their home turf in Week 1. That doesn’t mean the plan is broken. It does mean the conversation gets loud. Every close game now comes with a comparison to what just walked out the door. Fair? Maybe not. But that’s life when you lose the opener to the quarterback you let go.

Credit New York’s defense for the resilience it did show. Gardner contested throws all night, Cisco got hands on the football, and the front generated enough pressure to keep Pittsburgh cautious. The Jets didn’t get the takeaway they needed, though, and against a quarterback who turns every mistake into a seven-point swing, that’s the difference.

Pittsburgh leaves with more than a 1-0 record. The Steelers have a proof of concept. They won without a defensive touchdown or a special-teams trick. They won because Rodgers was ruthlessly efficient and because their kicker delivered from a distance most coaches won’t even try in September. That’s the kind of opener that travels—weather, noise, and opponent changes, but decision-making and execution don’t.

The human layer matters here, too. Rodgers didn’t mask the satisfaction. He was careful with his words, sure, but honesty has a way of cutting through: he didn’t love how the Jets exit unfolded. Nights like this resolve some of that. You don’t erase history with one game, but you can write a fresh chapter that makes the old one feel less raw.

As for the Steelers’ locker room, a win like this builds belief fast. New teammates watch a star quarterback pull them through, and suddenly the playbook looks larger. Coordinators get bolder. Receivers hit their landmarks faster because they’ve seen the ball arrive when it’s supposed to. The margins shrink on both sides of the ball, and that’s where good teams live.

The Jets will come away knowing they can play with anyone, which is something, but they won’t get points for style. The learning points are obvious: finish a drive when the game swings, don’t let a veteran quarterback borrow the clock, and be ready for a field goal range that now starts at the logo. Clean up those edges and this loss won’t linger. Let it fester and the schedule can snowball on you.

The best part? It’s Week 1. The takes feel big, the emotions feel bigger, and the truth sits somewhere in between. Rodgers didn’t settle a season; he set a tone. The Jets didn’t implode; they got beat by a clean performance and a kick from the outer boroughs of field-goal land. The tape will show a handful of plays that decided everything. One was a ball that bounced like a rogue pinball. Another was a laser from 60 that never wavered. That’s how openers flip from good to unforgettable.