Confidence Crisis
When The Athletic released its 2025 fan survey, the numbers spoke volumes. Only 3.1 percent of Bengals fans reported being “very confident” in the team’s direction, a jaw-dropping decline from 30.5 percent the year before. Even more telling, nearly 47 percent admitted they had no confidence at all in ownership. For a franchise that just a few seasons ago was riding high on back-to-back playoff runs and a Super Bowl appearance, the sudden collapse in fan faith cannot be ignored. The statistics highlight more than frustration with a roster or coaching decision. They capture something deeper: a fracture between a city’s passion and a family-run leadership structure that feels increasingly out of touch with its supporters.
So what exactly has driven this tidal shift in perception? The answer is layered, built on years of frugal patterns, questionable decisions, and recent public missteps that confirm many of the criticisms fans have long whispered about. Let’s explore the major flashpoints that led here.
Pay Disputes and Holdouts
One of the biggest factors behind the growing resentment has been the team’s handling of contracts with its star players. When Trey Hendrickson, one of the league’s premier pass rushers and the NFL’s sack leader in consecutive seasons, was granted permission to seek a trade in August, fans erupted. How could the Bengals afford to let a proven cornerstone of the defense walk away during a window in which Joe Burrow, Ja’Marr Chase, and Tee Higgins are supposed to define an era?
The problem, supporters argue, is not simply about one player’s deal but a pattern. Cincinnati has too often dragged its feet when addressing extensions for homegrown talent. The prolonged uncertainty around Ja’Marr Chase and Tee Higgins is another sore spot. Analysts estimate that delays in negotiating those contracts may have cost the franchise upwards of $20 million annually. For fans, it is not just poor business. It is an emotional betrayal to see ownership nickel and dime players who are central to both the team’s identity and its long-term success.
In a league where windows of contention are short, fans expect ownership to be aggressive. Instead, they feel they are watching history repeat itself: talent squandered because leadership hesitated when it mattered most.
The Reputation for Frugality
The contract sagas are particularly painful because they align with a narrative that has trailed the Bengals for decades: that ownership is cheap. Mike Brown, who inherited the team from his father, Paul Brown, has long been criticized for running the franchise with one of the smallest scouting staffs in the league, for prioritizing budget over bold moves, and for being slow to upgrade facilities compared to competitors.
Even during the glory years of Burrow’s early seasons, many fans saw victories not as proof of a forward-thinking front office but as triumphs achieved in spite of it. Cincinnati’s reputation as the “Dollar General of the NFL” is not easily shaken, and recent moves only seem to reinforce it. Every time a deal collapses or a player feels undervalued, fans are reminded of an ownership group that often appears more committed to cutting costs than winning championships.
The Ring of Honor Controversy
If contract disputes rattled confidence, the Ring of Honor scandal nearly broke it. In August 2025, it was revealed that the Bengals asked incoming Ring of Honor inductees to cover their own travel, lodging, and game tickets for their induction ceremony. The organization provided only a discounted hotel rate and two complimentary tickets. For legends who gave their careers to the team, the treatment was seen as dismissive and embarrassing.
Former quarterback Boomer Esiason did not mince words, calling the move “cheap” and “embarrassing” on his national radio show. Fans quickly agreed. Social media lit up with criticism, and sports talk shows across the country used the incident as proof that Cincinnati still lags behind other NFL franchises when it comes to honoring its past.
For many fans, the issue was symbolic. If ownership cannot properly respect and support the very legends who built the foundation for today’s success, why should supporters believe they will treat current stars or loyal fans any better?
Nepotism and Insular Leadership
Another source of friction is the Bengals’ leadership structure itself. The team remains a family-run business, with Mike Brown at the helm and his daughter, Katie Blackburn, serving as executive vice president. Other family members also hold key roles in the front office. While some see this continuity as tradition, others see it as insular and stale.
The criticism here is not personal but structural. In an era where most franchises embrace expansive front offices filled with analytics experts, business strategists, and player development specialists, the Bengals often seem understaffed and overly reliant on family control. Fans believe this limits innovation, slows decision-making, and perpetuates an inward-looking culture that is unwilling to adapt to the modern NFL.
The perception of nepotism feeds directly into disillusionment. Supporters feel their team is being run like a private family heirloom rather than a professional sports franchise competing in a billion-dollar industry.
Stadium Strains and the City’s Burden
Frustration with ownership extends beyond the football field. The team’s stadium deal remains a sore subject for many locals. When Paycor Stadium (originally Paul Brown Stadium) was built, it became one of the most expensive taxpayer-funded sports projects in U.S. history. The total public cost has surpassed $1 billion, and critics argue the team has given little back in return.
Now, with the stadium lease up in 2026, executive vice president Blackburn has hinted that the team might explore relocation if terms are not favorable. For a fan base already skeptical about loyalty, the idea of losing the franchise adds a new layer of fear. Even if relocation is a negotiating tactic, the suggestion reinforces the feeling that ownership prioritizes leverage over community.
The On-Field Decline
Of course, results matter. After reaching the Super Bowl in the 2021 season and returning to the AFC Championship in 2022, the Bengals looked poised to dominate for years. Instead, the past two seasons have been riddled with disappointment. Injuries played a role, but so did roster depth and defensive struggles. By 2024, the Bengals ranked 25th in defense, and the team missed the playoffs two years in a row.
For fans, the disconnect is glaring. They see Joe Burrow, Ja’Marr Chase, and other stars as the foundation of a championship contender. Yet they watch ownership fail to reinforce that foundation with aggressive signings or bold trades. The wasted potential feels like déjà vu, echoing eras in Bengals history when promising talent was squandered by conservative leadership.
When nearly half of your fan base says they have no confidence in leadership, it is more than a PR problem. It is a sign of a broken bond. Sports franchises survive on passion and loyalty. They rely on fans who buy tickets, wear jerseys, and fill stadiums even when losses pile up. If that emotional connection is frayed, the long-term identity of the team is at risk.
For Cincinnati, the stakes are even higher. The Bengals are not just a football team; they are a civic identity. They represent pride in a Midwestern city that has fought to prove itself on the national stage. Fans feel their loyalty deserves to be matched by ownership’s investment, respect, and vision. When that reciprocity falters, so does confidence.
Final Word
The Athletic’s survey did not create this crisis of faith. It merely quantified it. From contract disputes and defensive collapse to a Ring of Honor controversy that embarrassed legends, the Bengals’ ownership has given fans reason to question whether the franchise truly shares their hunger for greatness.
The city of Cincinnati is waiting, not for words but for actions. Bold signings, fair treatment of players past and present, and a commitment to the community would go a long way toward repairing trust. Until then, the numbers will speak for themselves: a fan base that once believed in its leaders now feels left behind.