The gamble didnât look safe at the time.
It looked bold. Maybe reckless.

When the Chicago Bears used the 10th overall pick in the 2025 NFL Draft on Michigan tight end Colston Loveland, the reaction was immediate â and divided. Tight ends donât usually go that high. Not unless thereâs something different. Something rare.
Ben Johnson saw it early.
Long before Loveland became the Bearsâ leading receiver. Long before the 100-yard games. Long before âThird and Colstonâ became locker-room shorthand for inevitability.
The first clue didnât come on tape. It came in a room.

At Michiganâs Pro Day, Loveland wasnât running routes or catching passes. He was sitting across from Johnson, GM Ryan Poles, and the entire Bears staff in a long, intense meeting that felt more like an interrogation than an interview. Chalkboard questions. Football IQ. Pressure.
Loveland walked out knowing something had shifted.
Then came the moment that mattered. Johnson asked him a simple question with a loaded answer: Who do you play like?
Loveland didnât hesitate.
Sam LaPorta.
Johnson didnât push back.
He nodded.
âI agree.â
That was it.

For Johnson â who helped turn LaPorta into one of the leagueâs most dangerous tight ends â the comparison wasnât flattering. It was diagnostic. Similar movement. Similar spatial awareness. Similar understanding of leverage.
What followed was proof.
Loveland finished his rookie season leading the Bears in receiving yards with 713 â not as a gadget, not as a safety valve, but as a focal point. When the offense stalled, he didnât disappear. He surfaced.
The Bengals game told the story first. A chaotic 47â42 shootout. Under 30 seconds left. Season hanging in the balance. Loveland broke free and hauled in the go-ahead touchdown like it was scripted. Calm hands. No panic.

Then came the playoffs.
Down 31â27 against Green Bay in the Wild Card Round, Loveland turned the field into his own. 137 yards. Chain-moving catches. Silent dominance. The kind that doesnât scream â it suffocates.
By then, his teammates had already figured it out.
Kevin Byardâs nickname stuck for a reason. âThird and Colstonâ wasnât hype. It was recognition. When everything collapsed, the ball found him. When the moment tightened, he expanded.
Thatâs not accidental.
Itâs preparation meeting trust.

Lovelandâs rise also revealed something deeper about Ben Johnson. This wasnât just talent evaluation. It was projection. Johnson didnât draft what Loveland was. He drafted what he understood.
Route nuance. Defensive tells. Where to sit in zones. When to break leverage instead of speed. These are veteran skills. Loveland had them before he took an NFL snap.
And thatâs why the pick worked.
Not because the Bears took a tight end early â but because they took the right one for the offense they were building.
Chicago didnât luck into a weapon.
They identified one.
Now, as the Bears look ahead, Loveland doesnât feel like a rookie success story anymore. He feels foundational. A player the offense bends around. A safety blanket who doubles as a threat.

Ben Johnson didnât need the touchdowns to believe.
He just needed one answer â and the confidence behind it.
Sometimes, the loudest draft wins start with a quiet nod in a meeting room.
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