The NFL has a way of turning one ridiculous play into an entire public-service announcement, and Sunday in Buffalo delivered a fresh example. Efton Chism III, who was very much on the Patriots’ 53-man roster and not on some imaginary practice squad vacation, hauled in a diving one-handed touchdown with 1:50 left to send New England to a 29-26 win over the Bills. It was the kind of catch that makes defenders stare into the middle distance and reconsider their life choices. It was also the sort of play that usually earns a player a round of applause, a sideline chest bump, and maybe a spot on every highlight show until the sun burns out.

Instead, Bills defensive back C.J. Gardner-Johnson decided to take the scenic route through denial and disrespect, calling Chism a “practice squad player” who “made a hell of a catch.” That’s a heck of a thing to say about a guy who was busy winning the game against you with one hand, one foot, and the football equivalent of a crowbar pry-open of the end zone. Patriots coach Mike Vrabel didn’t exactly file the comment under “interesting but harmless” either, firing back that for a guy who’s been on eight teams in four years, Gardner-Johnson probably knows the drill. Somewhere, a giant golden shovel is being prepared in New England, because Chism just helped bury Buffalo and then got the rare honor of being disrespected for it.

For years, Sunday Ticket has been the NFL’s expensive little miracle: pay a king’s ransom and get the privilege of watching the league’s full buffet of out-of-market games, assuming your bank account survives the checkout screen. Now comes the wonderfully bureaucratic twist — the league could be willing to deconstruct the whole thing by the 2030 season, which is corporate-speak for “we might break the toy and rebuild it in a way that makes more money.” In the NFL’s world, nothing says innovation like taking a package fans already complain about and asking whether it can be sliced into even more pieces.

And honestly, this is the most NFL thing imaginable. The league has spent decades turning football into a 24/7 content empire, and Sunday Ticket has always been the premium chair at the grown-ups’ table: useful, pricey, and somehow still not enough for everyone. If the next rights deal really does move toward a different structure, it could mean more flexibility, more digital experimentation, and more opportunities for fans to wonder why watching one football game now requires the strategic planning of a fantasy draft and the budget discipline of a mortgage refinance. The takeaway is simple: Sunday Ticket isn’t necessarily disappearing, but the league appears ready to put it on the operating table and see how many extra organs can be sold separately.

The Dodgers spent Game 1 of the NLDS doing what rich baseball teams are apparently allowed to do now: casually importing a two-time Cy Young winner and asking him to bully an entire lineup into compliance. Tarik Skubal obliged with the kind of October debut that makes the rest of the league file a complaint with the baseball gods. After a leadoff single, he retired 15 straight Braves batters, which is less a pitching line than a polite eviction notice.

The heat at Dodger Stadium was brutal, the stakes were huge, and Skubal still worked like a man trying to shut off the stadium’s electricity bill. He finished with seven strikeouts, allowed just two hits and one run, and never really looked like he was in danger of handing Atlanta much of anything besides a long, frustrated bus ride. Meanwhile, the Dodgers offense did what playoff offenses are supposed to do when a starter is throwing flamethrowers and changeups like a wizard with a pension plan: it piled up three home runs. Teoscar Hernández got it started, Kyle Tucker added the kind of blast that makes opposing dugouts stare into the middle distance, and Max Muncy provided the insurance policy nobody asked for but everybody appreciated.

Atlanta managed to make the final score respectable with late homers of its own, which is nice in the same way a fire extinguisher is nice after the house is already on fire. But the night belonged to Skubal and the Dodgers, who grabbed a 1-0 series lead and reminded everyone that October baseball is often just three hours of someone else’s ace ruining your life one hitter at a time.