by pOe — Halfbak3d Sports
Chase McLaughlin doesn’t kick footballs — he erases doubt.
Eight attempts this season from 50-plus yards. Eight direct hits.
Not one wobble. Not one “ooh that was close.” Every single one was a conviction kick, the kind you start packing up your gear for before the ball even clears the line of scrimmage.
The Buccaneers don’t have a kicker. They have a ballistic solution to scoring problems.
This is the kind of leg you build entire game plans around.
There was a time in Tampa — the Age of Gramatica — where field goals from Jupiter felt possible. Martin built a mythology around long-range heroics.
McLaughlin? He’s not asking for directions — he’s drafting new maps.
He’s entering McLaughlin Territory: that sacred realm where 3 points is the bare minimum when the ball crosses midfield.
Cross the 50? Start the celebration playlist. The scoreboard is about to change.
It’s not just the distance — it’s the casual cruelty of it.
Opposing defenses play one great series, get a third-down stop, force the Bucs to the outer edge of range…
…and then they watch three points rain down from orbit.
Momentum? Stolen. Crowd energy? Silenced. Hope? Extinguished.
If you give McLaughlin even a sniff of a logo, you might as well start jogging to the sideline.
Look around the league:
Kickers miss 50-yarders all the time. Even the best guys crack under pressure.
But eight-for-eight? That’s not something mortals do. That’s video game physics.
From downtown, midfield, Pinellas County — it doesn’t matter. The ball teleports through the uprights like it was predestined.
And that’s what shifts a franchise’s ceiling.
Tampa’s defense suffocates teams. Tampa’s offense is evolving into a weapon.
But Tampa’s kicker? He’s already elite.
The combo means: • Stalled drives still produce points • Field position flips turn into scoreboard spikes • Close games tilt toward Tampa inevitability
This is the formula of playoff football.
You don’t just need stars… You need a man who can drag points out of nothing.
Chase McLaughlin is that man.
He’s not in Gramatica’s house yet — those walls are built from playoff memories and championship swagger.
But he’s right there at the edge of the yard, measuring the porch, mapping where his name plaque will go someday.
If this continues — if that leg keeps hitting moon-shots without breaking a sweat —
We’re going to remember this season as the year field goals in Tampa got dangerous again.
Three points shouldn’t feel like a flex. But when McLaughlin lines up from 50+… you feel it.
Your heart doesn’t race. Your breath doesn’t hold.
You just smile and nod because we already know.
Fifty-Plus: Automatic.
— pOe Halfbak3d Sports
