"WE. DID. NOT. CARE."

They said we weren’t enough.
Not strong enough. Not deep enough. Not ready enough.

"WE. DID. NOT. CARE."

They said January would expose us.
Said the lights would swallow us.
Said the moment would be too big.

"WE. DID. NOT. CARE."

They ranked us.
Doubted us.
Predicted our fall before we ever stumbled.

"WE. DID. NOT. CARE."

While they talked, we worked.
Film rooms glowing past midnight.
Cold mornings. Heavy reps.
Standards, not speeches.

"WE. DID. NOT. CARE."

Sam steady.
JSN rising.
Witherspoon striking.
Walker driving.
Barner grinding.

No noise inside the locker room.
Only belief — passed hand to hand, voice to voice, rep to rep.

When the lights were brightest and the whole country leaned in,
we did not blink.
We did not bend.
We finished.

Confetti fell.
The clock hit zero.
The scoreboard spoke.

The coach stepped forward.

Four words.

"WE. DID. NOT. CARE."

Not about doubt.
Not about rankings.
Not about critics.

Then a million voices filled the streets —
blue, green, breathing as one.

And at the celebration, with a grin and a microphone,
AJ Barner let the roar rise,
let it shake the skyline,
and sent it back across the night:

"WE. STILL. DON’T. CARE!"

Because champions are not built on approval.
They are built in silence.
In repetition.
In discipline no one applauds.

The noise will return.
The rankings will reset.
The doubters will reload.

But we already said it.

"WE. DID. NOT. CARE."

Because when the lights dim,
when the talking fades,
when the season turns the page —

The Banner rises.

2025 SUPER BOWL CHAMPIONS