If you tuned in expecting Super Bowl LX to turn into a clean, back‑and‑forth quarterback duel, the game probably felt like a bit of a letdown. This one was about pressure. About patience. About a defense that showed up with a plan and stuck to it until the other side cracked.

Seattle controlled the game from the opening kick to the final kneel‑down. Not with fireworks, but in the most Seahawks way imaginable: suffocating defense, a physical run game that wore New England down, steady special teams, and just enough offense to keep the Patriots chasing all night.

It was also one of those Super Bowls that reshapes narratives. Sam Darnold, long labeled a reclamation project, played the exact game his team needed on the biggest stage. Mike Macdonald, the soft‑spoken head coach who once nearly walked away from football altogether, just out‑schemed the league’s most demanding spotlight. Not bad for a couple of guys no one expected to even be in this game.

This One Started Like a 1998 Throwback

Jason Myers opened the scoring with a 33‑yard field goal and, honestly, that opening drive told you just about everything you needed to know. Eight plays, 51 yards, no panic — just Seattle calmly laying out the blueprint. Get Kenneth Walker III to the edge, make New England tackle in space, and don’t ask Sam Darnold to do too much.

New England’s defense came out doing what Patriots defenses usually do in big games — mixing looks, disguising pressure, baiting throws, playing fast and aggressive. And for a bit, it worked. But that speed started cutting both ways. When defenders start flying downhill, one bad angle or one false step turns into an open lane. Seattle leaned into that, letting Walker press inside before bouncing runs outside and forcing the Patriots to chase.

So even though the scoreboard only said 3‑0, the film was already hinting at something else. Seattle’s offensive line was moving people. Not dominating every snap, but consistently getting enough push to stay on schedule. Against a Patriots front that had bullied its way through January, that mattered.

Myers added a 39‑yarder early in the second quarter, then calmly drilled a 41‑yard field goal with 11 seconds left before halftime to make it 9‑0. Three field goals, no touchdowns — and yet it felt like New England was hanging on by a thread.

Seattle Won the Game With Four Rushers… And That’s the Whole Story

You know how people talk about “the four-man rush” like it’s some ancient football myth?

Seattle made that the entire backbone of the night.

The Seahawks barely blitzed — sending extra rushers on just 13.2% of Drake Maye’s dropbacks and still managed to pressure him on 52.8% of them. That’s not normal. That’s not even supposed to be possible in a Super Bowl.

What it meant in real time was simple: Maye never felt comfortable. Seattle didn’t need to gamble with high-risk looks or give him easy answers pre-snap. The front four kept caving the pocket in just enough to force him off his spot, and once that internal clock speeds up, it almost never slows back down — especially on this stage.

You could see it almost immediately. Maye didn’t look scared — he looked rushed. His processing felt sped up, the timing was off, and even the completions came with a sense of hurry. When a quarterback starts playing like the rush is always one step away, the defense has already won.

New England's Offense Came Out Frantic

There’s a line between “playing it safe” and “playing like you don’t trust your offense.” New England spent most of the first half leaning uncomfortably toward the latter.

The Patriots opened the game clearly trying to manage risk — quick throws, short concepts, an emphasis on not making the mistake that flips a Super Bowl early. In theory, that’s understandable. In reality, it was a problem. Seattle was already getting home with four rushers and shrinking the pocket on nearly every meaningful dropback, which meant the conservative approach never really had a chance to breathe.

When your quarterback is constantly feeling pressure, playing it safe doesn’t actually calm anything down. It just turns into stalled drives. And when drives keep stalling, the urge to force something starts creeping in. That’s exactly how New England’s night began to unravel.

Maye’s first-half stat line paints the picture clearly enough: six completions for 48 yards, three sacks, and just 51 total offensive yards.

That’s what pressure does. It doesn’t just hit you physically — it rewires how you play the position. Your eyes move faster than they should. Your feet get jumpy. You start throwing like you’re racing the rush instead of reading the coverage.

The Patriots’ Offensive Line Had a Nightmare of a Night

You can’t really talk about this game without talking about the Patriots’ protection — because it was impossible to ignore.

Maye was sacked six times, and he was pressured on more than half of his dropbacks.

The spotlight fell hardest on rookie left tackle Will Campbell, who allowed a season-worst 14 pressures. Fourteen. In the Super Bowl. Fair or not, that’s a number that follows you. And it wasn’t just one bad matchup or one type of rush — Seattle attacked him with power, speed, inside moves, outside moves, the whole menu.

To be clear, not every sack was on the offensive line. Some of the pressure was on Maye as well. Young quarterbacks learn this the hard way: you can’t drift, you can’t panic, and you definitely can’t step up directly into the fire.

Still, Seattle’s front was winning across the board. Leonard Williams, DeMarcus Lawrence, Byron Murphy II, Devon Witherspoon, Derick Hall, Boye Mafe, Uchenna Nwosu — it wasn’t one guy having a night. It was wave after wave, consistently collapsing the pocket, stressing the edges, and forcing Maye to throw before he wanted to.

By the second half, even when protection occasionally held up, the damage had already been done. Maye’s body language said it all. He was still rushing. Still pressing. Still playing like the next hit was coming — because, most of the time, it was.

Devon Witherspoon: Why Is That Guy Always in the Backfield?

Super Bowls usually crown a couple of stars, and Seattle had plenty of candidates you could point to.

But if you’re talking about pure disruption — the kind that makes an offense feel like it’s constantly late, constantly uncomfortable — Devon Witherspoon absolutely earned his own section.

Seattle didn’t just use Witherspoon as a corner. They used him as a problem. A movable piece who could show up anywhere, at any time, and completely wreck the timing of a play.

When Witherspoon came as a blitzer, he wasn’t just flashing — he was getting home. Four pressures (including one that forced an interception) and a sack on just six pass rushes. 

The best part for Seattle? Witherspoon wasn’t just a chaos agent. He was targeted just twice on 47 coverage snaps. That gave Mike Macdonald total freedom to be creative without ever exposing the back end. When a defender can do both — disrupt up front and erase options behind it — that’s how defensive game plans start feeling unfair.

Christian Gonzalez Kept New England Alive Longer Than They Deserved

Listen, when a team gives up 29 points in the Super Bowl, it’s hard to argue the defense played well. But if you actually watched this game, that’s exactly what New England’s defense did — at least for a long stretch.

The only touchdown they allowed came after a short field created by a turnover, with Seattle already in field-goal range. Outside of that, the Seahawks finished with seven punts and five field goals. That’s not a defense getting steamrolled. That’s a defense doing its job and hoping the offense can meet them halfway.

And at the center of it was Christian Gonzalez, who was flat-out ridiculous. If you caught yourself thinking, “Why does it feel like every Seattle completion is contested?” — that was Gonzalez. He was sticky in coverage, physical at the catch point, and almost always in-phase.

There was even a moment where it looked like he might come down with an interception that would’ve kept the score at 6–0 heading into halftime — the kind of play that completely flips the emotional weight of a Super Bowl. He didn’t get it, but he did knock down the pass that would've given the Seahawks a 13-0 lead going into half.

To their credit, the Patriots did a lot of smart things defensively. They disguised pressure. They showed blitz and backed out. They forced Darnold to hesitate. They made Seattle settle for field goals and punts instead of touchdowns.

But the problem with trying to win a Super Bowl on “bend but don’t break” is: if your offense can’t cash in, eventually the dam breaks anyway.

Sam Darnold’s Night: Not Pretty, But Smart Enough

Let’s say this right up front, because it matters for how this game should be remembered: Sam Darnold didn’t have a great night.

He finished 19-for-38 for 202 yards and a touchdown, and his -9.4% completion percentage over expected tells you exactly what your eyes probably already did. There were misses. This was not some perfectly clean, confidence-building performance you put on a highlight reel.

But here’s the thing — he also didn’t implode. And in this Super Bowl, against this defense, that mattered more than almost anything else.

The Patriots threw plenty at him. They blitzed him aggressively, clearly trying to speed him up and force the kind of mistakes that can flip a Super Bowl in a hurry. And at times, it worked. Darnold missed throws. He left yards on the field. That early deep miss to Jaxon Smith-Njigba could’ve been one of those “we’re still talking about this in July” moments.

What’s interesting, though, is that Darnold was actually better when New England brought pressure. Against the blitz, he finished with 132 yards, a touchdown, an 80 passer rating, and six yards per attempt. When the Patriots dropped out and rushed four, he was far less effective — 70 yards, no touchdowns, a 67 rating, and just four yards per attempt.

That’s not an accident. New England’s disguise game gave him more problems than their all-out pressure. When they showed blitz and backed off, it sped him up mentally. When they came, at least the picture was clearer.

And through it all, Darnold stayed within himself. He took what was there. He let Kenneth Walker III and the defense shoulder the load. And when Seattle finally needed one clean, composed touchdown drive to put the game in a stranglehold, he delivered it.

Kenneth Walker III: As Steady as They Come

Kenneth Walker III was the heartbeat of Seattle’s offense, even if his night didn’t always look pretty run-to-run.

He carried the ball 27 times for 135 yards, and those yards absolutely mattered. They weren’t empty. They weren’t late-game padding. The difference between New England getting the ball back with a chance to breathe… and New England having to deal with another long, physical set of downs.

Now, this wasn’t some flawless rushing performance. Between the tackles, the Patriots made him work for it. There were stretches where New England’s front held firm and forced Walker into the kind of two- and three-yard runs that make fans groan and start asking for play-action.

But the edges? That’s where the game quietly tilted in Seattle’s favor.

Walker had four explosive runs and finished with 114 yards outside the tackles. No wasted motion. No panic. Just patience and burst.

Seattle clearly liked those perimeter looks, and the offensive line deserves a ton of credit here. The tackles set the edge. Tight ends played a huge role. Blocks stuck just long enough. This wasn’t Walker freelancing — it was the entire unit moving in sync and understanding where the weak points of the defense were.

Mike Macdonald’s Masterclass

Macdonald is 38 years old, and with this win he became the third-youngest head coach to ever lift a Lombardi Trophy. That’s not just trivia — it matters, because it speaks to how quickly he’s established a real identity in Seattle.

Macdonald didn’t just outcoach New England. He outmaneuvered them. Every time the Patriots tried to settle in, Seattle had an answer waiting. The pressure plan was airtight. The coverage structures were clean and disciplined. And the way Seattle mixed simulated pressures with straight four-man rushes kept Drake Maye guessing without having to blitz often.

That balance was the key. Seattle never felt desperate to manufacture pressure, because they didn’t have to. Macdonald trusted his front, trusted his disguises, and trusted that confusion could be just as damaging as chaos. Maye struggled to figure out where the stress was coming from — or when it was actually coming at all.

This wasn’t some old-school “line up and play Cover 3 and hope your guys win” approach. It was modern, flexible, and quarterback-focused. The entire plan revolved around manipulating protection, speeding up Maye’s eyes, and forcing mistakes without ever exposing the defense on the back end.

That’s the kind of game plan that ages well — and the kind that turns a young head coach into someone the rest of the league starts studying.

Seattle’s Blueprint Just Became the Standard

This was Seattle’s second Super Bowl title, but it felt less like a celebration of the past and more like a statement about who they want to be moving forward.

A huge part of that credit goes to John Schneider. The architect behind both championship teams, Schneider has consistently leaned into a simple idea: build from the lines out, invest in defense, and trust that physical football still wins when the stakes are highest. This roster — especially on defense — is packed with players who were either smart signings, strong draft picks, or both.

And the way Seattle won this game matters. They didn’t try to outscore New England in a shootout. They didn’t chase style points. They won with a formula that travels: a defense that can win with four, a run game that can carry you when the passing game is messy, and special teams that doesn’t blink under pressure.

Most importantly, Seattle didn’t just win this Super Bowl. They showed the league a blueprint. Build a defense that can control games without gambling, support your quarterback instead of asking him to save you, and trust that disciplined football still holds up on the biggest stage.

The only problem is, the Eagles showed us a very similar blueprint last year in this spot. And then they backed it up with a first-round exit this season. Is that the path Seattle's on?

New England’s Reality Check — And the Hard Questions Ahead

This one is going to sting, mostly because it felt so close. New England was right there on the doorstep, and Super Bowl losses like this tend to linger longer.

The Patriots were ahead of schedule. Mike Vrabel got them to a Super Bowl in his first season. Drake Maye reached the game in just his second year. That’s not normal. That’s usually a sign you’re doing something right.

But Super Bowls have a way of exposing exactly where you’re still fragile, and New England’s weak spot was impossible to miss: the offensive line. When your quarterback is pressured on more than half of his dropbacks in the biggest game of the year, you’re basically asking him to be perfect.

Maye wasn’t perfect. He pressed. He rushed. He turned the ball over. He looked every bit like a young quarterback trying to do too much in the moment. Some of that is on him. A lot of it is on the environment around him.

And that’s the frustrating part for New England. Their defense played well enough to win this game. They held Seattle to field goals and punts. They gave the offense chance after chance to flip the momentum.

Maye, and the rest of the unit, just couldn’t meet them there.

The Patriots are close. But Super Bowl LX made it clear they’re not finished yet.

All stats courtesy of NFL Pro.