A few minutes after the final whistle of Super Bowl LX on February 8, 2026, the confetti still hung in the air at Levi’s Stadium when New England Patriots owner Robert Kraft emerged from the tunnel and walked straight toward the cluster of reporters and cameras waiting near the team entrance. No one expected him to speak. No one expected what came next.
Kraft, usually composed and measured even in defeat, looked visibly shaken. His eyes were red-rimmed, his voice unsteady from the start. He did not wait for questions. He simply began.“I’m truly sorry to everyone,” he said, the words catching in his throat. “I was wrong and… I need to own that right now.”He paused, took a long breath, then continued in a voice that grew quieter with every sentence.
“The truth is, I made a call that I deeply regret. Against the strong recommendation of our medical staff, against what some of the people closest to Drake [Maye] were telling me privately, I pushed for him to play tonight through a shoulder injury that was far more serious than what we ever acknowledged publicly.
I convinced myself—and I convinced him—that the moment, the stage, the chance to win another Lombardi would carry him through the pain. I was wrong. I put the pursuit of a championship ahead of protecting the long-term health and future of our franchise quarterback. And tonight we all paid the price for that decision.”
The admission landed like a shockwave. Reporters stood frozen; phones that had been recording the celebration on the other side of the stadium suddenly turned toward the 84-year-old owner. Kraft kept going, his voice breaking several times.
“Everyone saw it. The throws that sailed. The hesitation in the pocket. The way he couldn’t plant and drive the ball with anything close to his normal velocity. We all watched six sacks, three turnovers, and a team that looked a step slow from the opening snap. I know a lot of that gets blamed on scheme, on the offensive line, on play-calling. And there’s truth to some of that.
But a very large part of what happened tonight was because Drake was playing through real, significant pain—pain that limited his mechanics, his confidence, and ultimately his ability to lead us the way he has all season. He never complained. Not once. He fought through every single snap because he believed in us, because I asked him to. And I should have protected him better. I should have said no.”
Kraft wiped his eyes with the back of his hand before continuing.“I take full responsibility. This is not about making excuses for the loss. The Seahawks earned every bit of what they accomplished tonight. Their defense was dominant. They were faster, more physical, better prepared.
They deserved to lift that trophy. But I also know that if Drake had been healthy—if I had listened to the people who told me to shut him down and let him heal—we would have given ourselves a real chance. Maybe the outcome would have been different. Maybe it wouldn’t.
But at least he would have had a fair shot to show what he’s truly capable of on the biggest stage. Instead I asked a 23-year-old kid to carry a burden he shouldn’t have had to carry. I let our fans down. I let our coaches down. I let our players down. And most of all, I let Drake down.”
He stopped speaking for several seconds, staring at the concrete floor as though gathering himself for the final words.“I’ve been in this league a long time. I’ve seen dynasties built and dynasties fall. I’ve celebrated six championships and I’ve endured some very dark years.
But nothing has ever hurt me more than knowing I may have compromised the future of the player we believe can lead us for the next decade or more. I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. We’ll do right by Drake now—whatever that means. Rest, rehab, surgery if necessary. The best medical care we can provide.
And we’ll make sure he knows he has the full support of this organization, this fanbase, and this city when he’s ready to come back.”Kraft did not take questions. He simply nodded once, turned, and walked back toward the locker room tunnel. The entire exchange lasted less than three minutes.
Within seconds, clips of the moment flooded every platform. On X, Instagram, TikTok, Reddit, and YouTube, the video spread faster than any highlight from the game itself. Hashtags exploded: #WeForgiveYouMrKraft, #ProtectDrake, #ThankYouRobert, #KraftConfession. Patriots fans who had spent the previous three hours venting rage over dropped passes, missed blocks, and conservative play-calling suddenly filled their feeds with messages of empathy, forgiveness, and love.
“I was screaming at my TV all night. Now I’m just crying. Mr. Kraft owning this means everything.” “He’s 84 years old and still carrying the weight of this franchise. That’s real leadership.” “All the memes and anger can wait. This is what accountability looks like. Get well soon, Drake. We love you both.”
Even in Seattle, where the champagne was still being sprayed, thousands of Seahawks fans posted messages of respect. “No championship feels right when it comes with this kind of truth on the other side,” one viral comment read. “Take care of your guy, New England. He’s special.”
Inside the Patriots organization, the mood was reported as somber but unified. Players and coaches who had already begun the long flight home were said to have watched Kraft’s statement together on the plane. Several texted reporters to say they stood fully behind their owner’s words and behind their quarterback.
Medical experts appearing on overnight sports shows explained that a significant rotator cuff injury—especially one aggravated by repeated hits—can rob a quarterback of arm strength, velocity, and most importantly, trust in the mechanics needed to survive an elite pass rush. “You saw a young player fighting his own body as much as he was fighting the defense,” one former NFL physician noted. “That kind of internal battle is brutal.”
As of the morning of February 9, 2026, the Patriots have not released an official injury update on Maye’s shoulder, but multiple sources indicate that a combination of rest, aggressive rehabilitation, and possibly a surgical consultation is already being planned for the offseason. The organization has also quietly reached out to several of the league’s top orthopedic specialists.
For Patriots Nation, the 13-29 final score will always sting. But Robert Kraft’s unscripted confession in the tunnel at Levi’s Stadium has already begun to reframe the night. The loss is no longer just about flags, turnovers, or defensive dominance. It has become about a man who built one of the greatest dynasties in sports history, who stood in front of the world at 84 years old, admitted a painful mistake, and asked for forgiveness—not for himself, but for the young quarterback he believes can carry the franchise forward.
In a sport that often hides vulnerability behind helmets and statistics, Kraft gave fans something rare: raw, unflinching humanity.The confetti has been swept away. The trophy is in Seattle. But in New England, the story of Super Bowl LX is no longer defined by the scoreboard. It is defined by a single moment in a concrete tunnel, a trembling voice, and six simple words that changed everything:
