Lumen Field (Seattle) — A defensive accident cost the Los Angeles Rams their shot at the Super Bowl.

On fourth-and-4 from the Seattle 6-yard line in the NFC Championship Game, Matthew Stafford identified what should have been an easy completion: running back Kyren Williams leaking into the flat. Instead, Williams was double-covered—by design from safety Julian Love and inexplicably by defensive end DeMarcus Lawrence.

Stafford threw incomplete. The Seahawks won 31-27.

"They kind of lucked into having two guys peel on Kyren right there," Rams coach Sean McVay said at his postgame press conference. "I know that can't be part of their design."

After the game, two Seattle defenders acknowledged the breakdown. One said Lawrence "was tripping." Another admitted: "D-Law shouldn't have ran with it. But we won."

A Statistical Tragedy

The numbers tell the story of a masterclass in execution undone by happenstance. Stafford completed 22 of 35 passes for 374 yards and three touchdowns with zero turnovers and only one sack. According to OptaStats, he became the first quarterback in NFL history to record 370-plus passing yards, three-plus touchdown passes, 10.00-plus yards per attempt, zero turnovers, and one or fewer sacks—and still lose.

Yet he was 0-for-7 on third- and fourth-down throws, the first time in his 17-year career he failed to complete a pass in such situations.

Context matters. Stafford threw into tight windows on 28.6% of his passes and still completed 8.2% over expected, per Next Gen Stats. His average depth of target was 12.6 yards. The Seahawks' game plan made everything exponentially harder.

None of that changes the result.

The Stafford Paradox

This loss crystallizes the peculiar tragedy of Stafford's career. He spent 12 mostly irrelevant years in Detroit after the Lions snagged him with the No. 1 pick in 2009. He won a Super Bowl in his first season in Los Angeles—Super Bowl LVI—a vindication that left everyone wondering: how many rings could he have won with competent management?

Now, at 38 years old and coming off an NFC Championship Game loss, Stafford faces an uncertain future. McVay bristled when asked whether his quarterback might not return.

"If he still wants to play," McVay snapped. "The hell kinda question is that?"

But the clock is ticking. The NFC West is crowded. This may have been Stafford's last, best chance at a second Super Bowl.

A Legacy in Limbo

Stafford's single Lombardi Trophy puts him in elite company—Brett Favre, Joe Namath, Drew Brees, Aaron Rodgers, Dan Marino, and Jim Kelly have each won exactly one. But 13 other quarterbacks have won more. And there are 21 total with one ring.

He has a legitimate Hall of Fame case. He remains one of the NFL's best pure passers and sharpest minds at the position. But he will never crack the Mount Rushmore conversation. He defined his era without dominating it.

A second Super Bowl would have rewritten his legacy. Instead, Stafford will be remembered as one of the best players of his generation—but not one who defined it.

In Los Angeles, he's been dominant in ways reminiscent of Tom Brady's stint with Tampa Bay. The difference: Brady never had his Patriots years to build on it.

Some players make their own luck. Some have all the luck. Some have none.

Stafford has been all three at different points. That ambiguity is his curse—a nebulous place to plant a legacy.

If he wants to secure his place in football immortality, he needs one more ring.