In the News, On the Bar Exam: “If My Aunt Had Male Parts …”

Mike Tomlin is the longtime head coach of the Pittsburgh Steelers, and he’s famous for delivering short, memorable one-liners in press conferences. (Steelers fans call them “Tomlinisms.”)

After the Steelers and Ravens played a chaotic, down-to-the-wire game that ended on a missed last-second field goal that sent the Steelers into the playoffs and ended the Ravens' season, a reporter asked Tomlin to put into words how razor-thin the margin was between season over and keep dancing. The question was basically:

Reporter: "How can you put into words just the thin line between if they make that kick, season's over, comes to a screeching halt, and missing that kick and the winner going on?"

Tomlin’s answer was the kind of sentence that ends a conversation so fast it should come with a closing argument.

Tomlin: “You know how it is. If my aunt had male parts, she’d be my uncle.”

Translation (in polite, bar-exam-safe language): Stop living in the hypothetical. The only thing that matters is what actually happened.

Which brings us to one of the most common ways bar takers accidentally torpedo perfectly good essay responses.

The Bar Exam Version of “Coach, But What If …”

On the bar exam, the fact pattern isn't a brainstorming prompt. It isn't an invitation to co-write a sequel. It is a closed universe hypothetical.

Yet, I read practice essay responses all the time that include something similar to this:

• “If the driver was speeding …”

• “If the defendant intended to kill …”

• “If the officer didn’t have a warrant …”

• “If the contract was in writing …”

Suddenly your answer becomes less legal analysis and more fan fiction.

Graders aren't awarding points for creativity. They’re awarding points for:

• Spotting issues raised by the given facts

• Stating the rule accurately

• Applying the rule to those facts contained in the fact pattern

Tomlin just gave the bar exam mantra in Steelers packaging: You don’t get credit for “if.” You get credit for “because.”

The “If” Problem: It’s Usually the First Step Toward Adding Facts

Here’s the nuance: The use of “if” can be totally fine. But it can also be the first step toward making things up.

“If” is fine in the RULE.

Rule statements are full of “if/then.” That’s normal.

• “A statement is hearsay if it is offered for its truth.”

• “A search is reasonable if it fits within an exception.”

That is clean, disciplined conditional reasoning.

“If” is dangerous in the FACTS.

When you write, “If the defendant knew …,” you're often smuggling in a fact the hypo didn't give you.

That’s when your analysis starts sounding like: “If my aunt had male parts …”

In other words, you're analyzing a world that isn't in the test question.

What To Do Instead (So You Still Sound Like a Lawyer)

Here are three swaps that can instantly upgrade your writing.

1. Replace “If …” with “The facts suggest …”

❌ Bad: “If the defendant intended to kill …”

✅ Better: “The facts suggest intent to kill because ____________________.”

2. Replace “If …” with “One can reasonably infer …”

❌ Bad: “If the driver was intoxicated …”

✅ Better: “One can reasonably infer intoxication because ____________________ .”

Inference is fair game. Inventing isn't.

3. Use “Even if …” to show control (without making things up)

This is one of the safest uses of “if” because it doesn’t add facts. It shows you can analyze alternatives based on the same record.

✅ Example: “Even if the court finds X, the claim still fails because Y.”

Final Tomlin Takeaway

The reporter’s question to Mike Tomlin was basically: “Coach, but what if …?”

Tomlin’s answer was: “We're not doing that today.”

That's the same energy you need on exam day.

Write the rules. Apply them to the facts you were given. Draw the best conclusion you can support with those facts. And don’t give the grader any opening to think, “They’re solving a different problem than the one asked.”

Or, in Coach Tomlin terms: Don't turn your essay into an aunt-and-uncle question.