The NFL can be brutal on rookies, and Shilo Sanders is discovering that firsthand. Five months ago, the former Colorado safety slipped through all seven rounds of the 2025 draft, then latched on with Tampa Bay as a priority undrafted free agent, a three-year deal worth just under $3 million. The signing looked smart for a franchise that hadn’t taken a safety in April, but the path from camp body to 53-man roster is notoriously steep for UDFAs.

Through two preseason games, Sanders held his own on special teams while fighting for the fourth-safety slot behind Antoine Winfield Jr., Tykee Smith, and Christian Izien. That progress unraveled in Saturday’s finale at Buffalo. Mid-second quarter, tight end Zach Davidson locked him up on a run play; Sanders responded with a swing that landed square on Davidson’s helmet, drawing an immediate flag and ejection. Head coach Todd Bowles pulled no punches afterward: “You can’t throw punches in this league—that’s inexcusable. They’re going to get you every time. You’ve got to grow from that.” Twenty-four hours later, Tampa Bay told the rookie he was being waived.

ESPN’s Adam Schefter broke the news on Instagram with the caption: “Buccaneers informed rookie safety Shilo Sanders that he is being waived, per his agents Drew Rosenhaus and Robert Bailey, who added, ‘we’re hoping he gets claimed on waivers.’” Deion Sanders quietly double-tapped the post, a digital nod that also served as confirmation of his son’s next step: waiting out the 24-hour waiver window, hoping one of the other 31 clubs claims his contract. It signaled Dad’s confidence that a claim, or at minimum a practice-squad offer, is coming.

Being waived this late in August is a gut punch for any undrafted rookie. If no team files a claim, Sanders will clear waivers and become a free agent, free to sign a practice-squad deal or another futures contract, but the optics of a post-draft punch-ejection combo won’t help his market. History shows undrafted safeties do catch on elsewhere, yet each misstep narrows the margin for error. For Shilo, the immediate goal is simply landing in a new locker room before Week 1; the longer-term challenge is proving Saturday’s lapse was an aberration, not a red flag.

All told, the weekend’s events are a sharp detour for a player carrying both his own NFL dreams and the weight of a Hall-of-Fame surname. Whether a fresh start comes via waiver claim or a practice-squad invite, Sanders now enters the league’s proving-ground phase, one more chance to show he belongs, with every snap under a microscope.

Silent on Shilo, loud on sneakers

Deion Sanders’ social media timeline has been full of swooshes lately: on the same weekend his son was tossed from the Buccaneers-Bills preseason game, the HoF’er reposted Nike’s tease of a retro “Must Be the Money” Diamond Turf drop, complete with vintage footage and a swipe-up link to the August 29 release. That push fits a broader strategy Prime has followed since re-linking with the Swoosh in 2023; every new colorway, from the Falcons-inspired DT Max ’96 to the upcoming “Emerald” Diamond Turf, gets an Instagram boost from the Colorado coach, reinforcing the idea that his larger-than-life persona is as much a brand as a biography.

What’s conspicuously missing from those feeds is any mention of Shilo’s meltdown in Buffalo. The rookie safety, already a long shot to make Tampa Bay’s 53, was ejected for throwing a punch and then waived the next day. National outlets have noted that Coach Prime—normally quick to defend or celebrate his kids- stayed radio-silent while Todd Bowles called the act “inexcusable” and Shilo’s agents scrambled for a waiver claim. For fans who see the Sanders family as a single, media-savvy unit, the contrast feels jarring: father amplifying sneaker nostalgia, son facing a career crossroads with no public cheerleading from home.

The optics invite uncomfortable questions about priorities. Is Prime Time leveraging his celebrity precisely when it matters most for business, or is he deliberately letting Shilo fight his own NFL battle? Either way, the split screen is striking: on one side, Deion’s polished rollout of a 1990s silhouette that still prints money; on the other, a 25-year-old undrafted free agent wondering if any team will claim his contract before Tuesday’s deadline. For a family brand built on swagger and togetherness, the silence may speak louder than any Instagram story ever could.