He wasn’t supposed to look this comfortable this quickly. Mike Macdonald, 38, walked into Seattle as the NFL’s youngest head coach when he took over for Pete Carroll in January 2024. The resume didn’t scream savior, but youth has a way of turning heads. And by the time the dust settled on his first season, Macdonald had given the Seahawks something they hadn’t felt in years. A jolt of relevance!
The 2024 record says 10–7. That’s second place in the NFC West, just outside the playoff picture. Respectable but painful too, as they missed out on a playoff spot. The kind of year where you prove you belong, but still end up watching January football from the couch. It was steady growth disguised as disappointment. And for Seattle, a city still shaking the shadow of Carroll’s decade-long reign, it was a signal: this is going somewhere, which brings us to this week.
A simple question after August 29 practice, lobbed at Macdonald like any other, “How do you feel about stacking up against the rest of the division?” Coaches usually dance here. They hedge, they massage egos, they keep it safe. Not Macdonald. His response cut through the air like one of his blitz calls, “Bro, I really don’t care.” The cold look on his face said everything.
ADVERTISEMENT
Article continues below this ad
Dawg: Mike Macdonald is one of the most underrated head coaches in the entire league.
Reporter: “How do you feel about how you guys stack up to your rivals in the NFC West?”
Mike Macdonald: “Bro, I really don’t care.”
Macdonald is LOCKED IN 😤👀pic.twitter.com/aJ0Q7KjLDa
— Dov Kleiman (@NFL_DovKleiman) August 29, 2025
That’s it. That’s the quote. No dressing it up, no diplomacy. No empty compliments for San Francisco, the reigning champs, none for McVay’s Rams. Not even a nod to Arizona. Just cold dismissal, delivered with the nonchalance of a coach who’s too locked in to bother playing the respect game.
ADVERTISEMENT
Article continues below this ad
Three rivals, brushed off in four words. If you’re the Niners, Rams, or Cardinals, you hear that and wince. If you’re Seattle, you grin. Because the youngest coach in football isn’t just talking about building something, he’s acting like he already has.
ADVERTISEMENT
Article continues below this ad
It’s not Carroll’s rah-rah optimism. It’s not McVay’s polished charm. It’s blunt, bordering on cocky. And maybe that’s exactly what this version of the Seahawks needs. A coach who doesn’t care about optics, only outcomes. A coach who, one season in, already sounds like he’s done bowing to anyone.
Macdonald’s first year was proof of concept. His second? It might be the year he makes rivals regret ever asking how they stack up.