The regular season told one story.
The playoffs told another.

For most of 2025, Drake Maye looked like the safest bet from the 2024 quarterback class. MVP-caliber numbers. Efficiency. Control. The kind of season that quiets draft debates and rewards patience.
Then January arrived ā and everything shifted.
Mayeās postseason run with the New England Patriots didnāt just fall short. It cracked open a conversation many thought was settled. Against stronger competition, tighter windows, and relentless pressure, his game unraveled in ways that canāt be brushed aside as coincidence.

The numbers are brutal.
Across four playoff games, Maye posted a -41.2 passing EPA, the worst playoff mark since Next Gen Stats began tracking the metric. His total EPA of -29.2 ranks as the worst postseason performance by a quarterback since 2000. These werenāt small dips. They were structural failures.
He looked hesitant. Late. Uncertain.
Shoulder issues may have played a role. Rookie playoff nerves too. But excuses only stretch so far when the same problems appear repeatedly ā against Houston, Denver, and Seattle. When defenses adjusted, Maye didnāt.
That matters.
Because while Maye was struggling under pressure, Caleb Williams was quietly reinforcing why Chicago believed in him. Williams didnāt reach the Super Bowl. He didnāt post prettier playoff stats. But the way he handled chaos told a different kind of truth.

The 2024 quarterback race has always been framed as a group: Maye, Williams, Jayden Daniels, Bo Nix. But when postseason football stripped away regular-season comfort, the debate narrowed. This became Williams versus Maye.
Williamsā playoff stat line wasnāt clean. 618 passing yards. Four touchdowns. Five interceptions. His accuracy dipped, just as it did during the regular season. Turnovers remain a concern. No one disputes that.
But context matters.

Two of those interceptions came off clear miscommunication ā one against Green Bay, another in overtime versus the Rams. They still count. Williams owned them. But they didnāt define how defenses affected him snap to snap.
What did define him was composure.
Williams earned the nickname āIcemanā for a reason. Seven fourth-quarter comebacks. Consistent poise when games tilted. And perhaps most telling ā his ability to avoid negative plays.
In two playoff games, Williams was sacked once.
Maye? Twenty-one times.
A postseason record.

That disparity isnāt about offensive line play alone. Itās about instincts. Pocket feel. Knowing when to live for the next down. Williams led the league in throwaways for a reason ā he understands that a dead play is better than a broken one.
Maye, by contrast, absorbed hits and coughed up the football. Seven fumbles. Four lost. Pressure didnāt just slow him down ā it consumed him.
None of this erases Mayeās talent. Heās still efficient. Still dangerous. Still young. And one postseason should never lock a quarterbackās ceiling.
But it does reveal tendencies.
The Patriots entered the season with the third-weakest schedule in the league. When the competition hardened, Mayeās margins vanished. Williams, meanwhile, faced elite defenses early and often ā and found ways to survive, extend, and create.
That distinction is where the narrative shifts.
Under Ben Johnson, Williamsā ceiling looks increasingly volatile ā in the best way. He can stretch plays. Buy time. Bend structure without breaking it. That flexibility matters in January, when schemes collapse and improvisation decides seasons.

The Seahawks proved football is a team sport. But the playoffs remind everyone of a harder truth.
When pressure hits, quarterbacks donāt rise together.
Some absorb it.
Some redirect it.
Drake Mayeās playoff run didnāt end his story.
But it reopened someone elseās.
And for the first time since draft night, Caleb Williams is back in the conversation ā not as a projection, but as a problem defenses still havenāt solved.
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