Joe Thuney didn’t spend the 2025 season chasing recognition.
In fact, he spent most of it doing the opposite—absorbing contact, erasing pressure, and quietly becoming one of the most important reasons the Chicago Bears surged from relevance into legitimacy.
Now, the recognition has found him anyway.
Thuney was recently named a finalist for the NFL’s first-ever Protector of the Year award, a newly created honor designed to spotlight offensive linemen whose work rarely shows up on highlight reels but defines winning football. For Thuney, the news landed not with bravado, but with something closer to disbelief.
“Super humbling, super thankful,” Thuney said during an interview with CHGO Bears at the Pro Bowl Games.
He was quick to redirect the spotlight—crediting Buffalo Bills left tackle Dion Dawkins for pushing the league to create the award, and commissioner Roger Goodell for making it official.
That instinct—to deflect praise—perfectly mirrors how Thuney plays the game.
At 33 years old, Thuney delivered one of the most complete seasons of his career. He didn’t allow a single sack. Not one.
Over an entire season. In a league defined by edge rushers and pressure packages, that kind of consistency borders on invisible excellence.
But the impact didn’t stop there.
Chicago finished the year leading the NFL in run-play success rate at 48.1 percent, and Thuney was at the center of it.
Whether pulling, anchoring, or sealing lanes, he became the foundation of an offense that finally looked sustainable.
Then came the moment that fully defined his season.
In the NFC Divisional Round against the Los Angeles Rams, injuries forced the Bears to reshuffle their line. Thuney, a lifelong left guard, slid out to left tackle—arguably the most demanding position on the line—without hesitation.
The result?
The Rams’ pass rush disappeared on that side.
No sacks. No chaos. No adjustment period.
It was a reminder that dominance doesn’t always announce itself. Sometimes it just erases problems.
Yet when asked whether an award like Protector of the Year was long overdue, Thuney didn’t fully embrace the spotlight. His answer revealed the internal contradiction offensive linemen live with.
“It’s kind of a double-edged sword,” he said. “Most O-line guys do not like recognition. But I still think it’s great to honor people that don’t always get the limelight.”
That tension is exactly why the award exists—and why it feels strange even to its finalists.
Football culture celebrates visibility. Quarterbacks. Touchdowns. Sacks. Linemen thrive in anonymity. Their success is measured in what doesn’t happen. No pressure. No disruption. No highlight.
Thuney’s 2025 season embodied that paradox.
The Bears didn’t just win games. They controlled them. And control starts up front.
As Chicago looks ahead to 2026 with expectations rising and eyes locked on Caleb Williams’ continued ascent, the foundation beneath it all remains Thuney—steady, adaptable, and uninterested in theatrics.
Whether or not he wins the award, the message is already clear.
The NFL is finally learning how to talk about players like Joe Thuney.
And Joe Thuney, true to form, is still more comfortable talking about everyone else.
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