Caleb Williams has become strangely familiar with this feeling.
Not failure. Not doubt. But the quiet frustration that follows every new ranking, every list that almost gets it right—then stops short. This week’s latest quarterback rankings did exactly that again.
According to FanDuel, Drake Maye now sits atop the list of quarterbacks drafted over the past three years. Caleb Williams? Second.
On paper, that’s elite company. In reality, for Bears fans, it reopens an old wound.
Williams’ NFL career has been shadowed by recency bias from the moment it began. In 2024, the debate centered on Jayden Daniels, whose rookie season fueled immediate revisionist history about the first overall pick. A year later, that narrative cooled—but the habit never left.
Now it’s Drake Maye’s turn.
Maye has earned praise. He’s in the Super Bowl. He’s an MVP candidate. His trajectory is impressive. But context matters—and that’s where the ranking begins to feel hollow.
Chicago asked more of Caleb Williams than almost any young quarterback in recent memory. More responsibility. More creativity. More late-game heroics. And far less margin for error.
Under Ben Johnson in 2025, Williams didn’t just improve—he redefined expectations for the Bears. He set the franchise’s single-season passing record.
He became the first quarterback under 25 to engineer seven fourth-quarter comeback wins in a single season. Chicago wasn’t just competitive—it was dangerous, even when trailing late.
Defenses couldn’t relax. Not with Williams on the field.
And yet, when rankings are released, the conversation shifts away from difficulty and toward destination. Maye’s Patriots are in the Super Bowl. Williams’ Bears aren’t. The implication is subtle but powerful: one path looks cleaner, so one quarterback must be better.
That’s where Bears fans bristle.
New England’s road was wide and forgiving. Chicago’s wasn’t. Williams navigated coaching transitions, evolving personnel, and relentless scrutiny—all while being asked to elevate an entire organization out of irrelevance. He didn’t just play quarterback. He became the reason the Bears mattered in January.
That kind of impact doesn’t always translate cleanly into rankings.
It should.
This isn’t an argument against Drake Maye. It’s an argument against flattening context into a single number. Rankings often reward stability, protection, and supporting casts. Williams thrived without those luxuries, consistently delivering under pressure that would have broken lesser players.
And the most uncomfortable truth? He’s still getting better.
Caleb Williams didn’t merely take a step forward in 2025. He reset the ceiling—for himself and for Chicago. Any ranking that places him behind quarterbacks who were asked to do less, with more, deserves closer inspection.
Because when the lights were brightest and the margin was thinnest, Williams didn’t fade. He carried.
Being ranked No. 2 might look like respect. But for those who’ve watched the Bears closely, it feels like something else entirely—a familiar hesitation to fully acknowledge what Caleb Williams has already become.
And that hesitation is starting to say more about the rankings than the quarterback.
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