Today, Seattle marched. Not just down streets past the Space Needle, shaking off another winter with confetti and cheers, but into the growing truth of what it really takes to win it all in the NFL. You can charm people with high-powered offenses and highlight reels all you want, but if you don’t have a group of killers on third down, you’re just renting success.

Make no mistake. The Seahawks didn’t just win Super Bowl LX. They proclaimed it with a defensive performance that felt like watching someone show up to a pie-eating contest with an industrial steam shovel. Seattle beat the Patriots 29–13, setting the tone early by sacking Drake Maye six times, creating three turnovers, and forcing punts on seemingly every other first-half drive. The Patriots did not so much get stopped as politely asked to take a seat and watch Netflix.

It is tempting each February to retweet the old saw “defense wins championships.” The phrase floats around football like a motivational screensaver on a tablet that everyone pretends to read. It is easy to say, harder to do. Because while defense is sexy in highlights, it is expensive, unpredictable, and sometimes downright mysterious, like trying to explain why anyone listens to certain podcasts.

So let’s get nerdy for a second. Look at the recent run of champs. Most Super Bowl winners in the cap era did not skimp on defense, and often boasted top-tier scoring-allowed numbers. Several historic title teams finished the season inside the top 10 in defensive rankings, even when their offenses were merely good enough.

What is fascinating, and what the Seahawks apparently embraced like a dog chasing a squeaky toy, is that these defenses were not necessarily the most expensive units on the roster. Most Super Bowl champs still devote more than half their cap to offense, letting the side that scores the points get paid a bit more, while still allocating enough to defense to get stops when it matters. This sweet spot, high-end offense, smart investment in key defensive pieces, and bang-for-the-buck role players elsewhere, feels like a classic NFL version of Moneyball.

In other words, you want a dominant edge rusher. Great. You want a lockdown corner. Sure thing. But paying a Notre Dame legend $25 million to play rotational slot safety might be spending like someone who buys four different kinds of queso for a party of one. The teams that win consistently make savvy defensive investments. Stars where it counts, role players who actually perform, and cap flexibility so you are not running Scrooge McDuck out of salary cap space.

Seattle did that this year. A frankly ridiculous parade of defenders who hit quarterbacks like overdue library books, disrupted passing games like toddlers with scissors, and created turnovers the way bees create honey. It was beautiful and terrifying. Their defense was so consistent that even when the offense looked like it was politely sipping tea on the bench, the Dark Side was out there playing emotional ping-pong with New England’s backfield.

There is also a funny little detail that probably made analytics junkies smile. A team with a defense that can win you games, even when your offense is not exploding, ends up winning titles. That is counterintuitive to the highlight-clip culture we live in, where every offensive coordinator has a TikTok account and a dream of scoring 50 points each week. But football is still played in four quarters, and when you can reliably stop the other team, you are always going to be in the conversation.

In Seattle’s case, that defensive identity did not just carry them to a ring. It carried them up the parade route, through downtown crowds, and into history. They reminded everyone that while points win games, stops win championships. And since the Seahawks did it without blowing massive cap space on defense alone, while still keeping enough firepower on offense to score when needed, they unknowingly turned defending into a fiscal art.

Call it old school. Call it Moneyball. Call it what you want. But after today’s parade, in a city that loves its blue and green like a second skin, one thing is undeniable. Defense was not just a part of Seattle’s title run. It was Seattle’s title run.

So here is to the unsung defenders, the underpaid specialists, the second-and-long saviors. They are the reason that on Sunday in Santa Clara, and today on these streets, the confetti did not just fall. It piled up like evidence after a good cross-examination.