Miles Grady: The Pitts Equation

Fifteen touchdowns in 78 games. That's Kyle Pitts's career scoring rate as a Falcon — one touchdown every 5.2 games for a player drafted fourth overall to be a generational weapon at tight end. It's the number that explains why Ian Cunningham stood at a podium in Phoenix last week and said what GMs almost never say on the record: he'd listen.

"It's my job as the general manager to do what's best for the organization. Also, it's my job to listen."

I wrote about the constraint map coming out of those meetings — five draft picks, $22.5 million in dead cap from Kirk Cousins, a franchise tag on Pitts worth roughly $15 million. What Cunningham did in Phoenix was clarify the hierarchy. At the same meetings, he called Drake London's extension "top of mind." He talked about Bijan Robinson's future as a priority. Pitts got the diplomatic non-commitment. The gap between "we're excited to have Kyle" and "Drake London is top of mind" tells you more than any trade rumor.

But the question isn't whether Atlanta would trade Pitts. The question is what the offense costs without him — and whether the draft capital you'd get back is worth that price.

Start with the trade value. A franchise-tagged tight end coming off career highs (88 receptions, 928 yards, 5 touchdowns in 2025) with 4th-overall pedigree should command a first-round pick, or a second-round pick plus additional mid-round capital. The Hockenson trade to Minnesota in 2022 — a second and a third — is the closest comparable, and Pitts's ceiling is meaningfully higher than Hockenson's was at the time of that deal. The non-exclusive tag adds a wrinkle: any team can negotiate directly with Pitts, but if Atlanta declines to match, they receive two first-round picks as compensation. That's the nuclear option, and it functions as a floor on Pitts's trade value — no team will offer less than what they'd surrender by signing him outright.

Now the draft capital math. Atlanta holds five picks, the first at No. 48. Cunningham himself acknowledged the cupboard is bare: "2026 will be the last year we ever have five picks." A Pitts trade that returns a first-rounder (or equivalent package) transforms the board. It's the difference between patching holes with Day 2 and Day 3 selections and actually building at positions of need — the interior defensive line, the nickel corner spot that remains a vulnerability even after the Sydney Brown acquisition, the receiver room behind London and Jahan Dotson.

The cap arithmetic supports it too. Robinson and London extensions are coming post-draft, and those deals will consume a combined $50-70 million in new annual money. Pitts at $15 million on the tag — with a long-term deal likely pushing past $16-17 million annually — creates a financial squeeze that limits Cunningham's ability to build the depth that his entire philosophy depends on. Every dollar committed to Pitts is a dollar that doesn't go to the 28th through 35th roster spots where NFC South games are actually decided.

So trade him. The numbers say trade him.

Except the scheme says otherwise.

Kevin Stefanski's offense in Cleveland ran through the tight end position. David Njoku saw 81 targets in 2023 and 117 in 2024 — and Njoku, for all his development under Stefanski, doesn't have Pitts's combination of size (6-foot-6), speed (4.44 forty), and catch radius. Pitts is the upgrade Stefanski never had access to. The play-action boot concepts that define the Kubiak-tree system depend on a middle-of-field threat who can hold a safety and win against single coverage down the seam. Without Pitts, who draws that attention? London is a boundary receiver. Robinson commands the box. Dotson is a speed complement, not a coverage magnet. Remove Pitts, and defenses can bracket London and load eight in the box against Robinson without conceding the middle of the field.

Then there's the quarterback variable. Tua Tagovailoa's intermediate accuracy — historically among the best in the league on throws between 10 and 20 yards — is precisely the skill set that unlocks a seam-running tight end. Pitts posted his career year in 2025 with Kirk Cousins declining. The Tua-Pitts connection hasn't been tested yet, and selling that asset before you've seen what it produces in Stefanski's system is the kind of move that looks efficient in April and foolish in October.

Cunningham is doing what competent GMs do: establishing market value without committing to a transaction. The franchise tag was never purely about commitment — it was about control. Whether Pitts plays 2026 in Atlanta or elsewhere, the tag ensures Cunningham dictates the terms, the timeline, and the return. The July 15 extension deadline is the real inflection point. If Pitts and the Falcons can't find common ground on a long-term deal by then, the trade calculus shifts decisively toward dealing him while the leverage is still Atlanta's.

The broader picture is the one I keep coming back to with this front office. Cunningham's floor-first philosophy — the one-year deals, the prove-it contracts, the roster built for depth over stardom — works when every asset is deployed efficiently. Pitts at $15 million on a tag is an inefficient deployment of an elite talent. A long-term deal at the right number, paired with Stefanski's scheme, could be the most efficient use of that money on the roster. The distance between those two outcomes is a negotiation that hasn't happened yet.

The math says listen. The scheme says wait. Cunningham, characteristically, is doing both.