Mitch Albom: Seahawks' D does all the talking needed in Super Bowl 60

SANTA CLARA, Calif. – The only thing louder than Levi’s Stadium’s halftime fireworks on Sunday night was the sound of New England’s offense hitting the turf. Seattle’s league-topping “Dark Side” defense authored a throwback masterpiece in Super Bowl 60, suffocating the Patriots for 45 minutes and coasting to a 29-13 victory that delivered the franchise its second Lombardi Trophy.

Six sacks, three takeaways, eight three-and-outs and 13 total punts told the clinical story. Quarterback Drake Maye finished with a 16.3 QBR, three turnovers and a face-full of grass on nearly every drop-back. By the time the Patriots crossed midfield with any real threat, the Seahawks led 26-0 and kicker Jason Myers had already outscored the entire New England roster.

“Our defense, I mean, I can’t say enough good things about our defense,” said Seattle quarterback Sam Darnold, who wasn’t asked to be spectacular and obeyed the mandate perfectly: no interceptions, no sacks, no drama. “I know we just won the Super Bowl, but we could have been better on offense.”

He was right—yet it never mattered. Mike Macdonald’s second-year unit treated every Patriots possession like a timed drill in tackling fundamentals. Linebacker Ernest Jones IV rang up 10 solo stops, cornerback Devon Witherspoon collected a sack, a forced fumble and three quarterback hits, and the front four turned four rushers into what felt like eight. New England’s running backs managed 42 yards on the ground; Maye’s longest completion of the first three quarters gained 11 yards.

The offensive star who finally broke the game’s inertia was the quietest man on the roster. Running back Kenneth Walker III, renowned in Seattle for a silence that matches his explosiveness, accounted for 161 total yards on 27 touches. His cut-back 34-yard sprint in the third quarter set up the Seahawks’ lone offensive touchdown and nudged the rout into garbage time. Walker was voted MVP—mostly, as teammates joked, because the trophy can’t be split 11 ways for the defense.

“I feel like we didn’t play as good as we could have,” Darnold admitted after completing barely 50 percent of his passes for 201 yards. “But our defense, the way we’ve been playing, my job is to take care of the football.”

The Patriots avoided a shutout only when Maye found tight end Hunter Henry for a pair of late scores, the second coming with 2:11 left and the outcome long decided. By then, Robert Kraft was shown yawning in his suite, fans were queuing for the exits, and a shirtless streaker had provided the only Patriots highlight that didn’t involve the scoreboard.

Seattle’s path to the title required a dramatic offseason reset. General manager John Schneider traded away franchise staples Geno Smith and DK Metcalf, handed the offense to Darnold and leaned further into a defense that finished the regular season ranked first in points, sacks and turnovers. The payoff: a 14-3 record, the NFC’s No. 1 seed, and a postseason run that saw the Seahawks allow just 34 points in three games.

New England’s arrival in the Super Bowl was equally swift. After a 4-13 season cost rookie coach Jerod Mayo his job, the Patriots lured former All-Pro linebacker Mike Vrabel back to Foxborough and watched him guide the team to 11 regular-season wins and an AFC title. But on Sunday, Vrabel could only tip his cap.

“Just not consistent execution,” he said, summing up a night in which his offense ran 49 plays for 189 yards and never reached the red zone until 13:24 remained.

Seattle players, meanwhile, sprinted toward a champagne celebration that began the moment Witherspoon batted Maye’s final fourth-down pass to the turf with 47 seconds left. Asked about his postgame plans, the rookie cornerback grinned: “I’m gonna go have a drink or two … or maybe three.”

The Seahawks will savor the moment, but the broader lesson is already crystallizing across the league: in an era obsessed with offensive fireworks, a ferocious defense still travels best in February. Seattle just provided the latest, loudest proof—even if the volume came from shoulder pads colliding, not scoreboard bulbs spinning.