WOODLAND HILLS, Calif. –– Sean McVay stood in front of the Los Angeles Rams's team backdrop, his voice steady but firm, his eyes scanning the faces of the journalists present in the press conference.
It's early in the week, and the sting of a 0-2 start still lingers fresh. After the 41-10 trouncing at the hands of the Arizona Cardinals, the Rams locker room was quiet, reflective—a silence only interrupted by the soft rustle of gear being packed away or the occasional sigh.
For a team that tasted the champagne-laden glory of a Super Bowl not long ago, these moments feel like a stark contrast, a reminder of how quickly fortunes can shift in the NFL.
But McVay isn't a man lost in the shadow of what's been. He's seen too much, experienced too many highs and lows, to be rattled by the early adversity. He's been through this grind before and felt the heat of doubt and the sharpness of criticism.
Yet, he speaks now with a calm that cuts through the room. His tone is resolved, and he has an unwavering belief that things can—and will—turn around.
"It's about progress," McVay said. "What we've done, what's behind us—that's gone. The only thing we can control now is how we move forward, how we prepare, how we respond."
That's been his mantra since the Cardinals' loss. Not in the way coaches often do, spitting out clichés to keep morale up, but with a quiet conviction that comes from years of navigating storms.
McVay's confidence isn't loud or brash; it's earned. It's built on the thousands of hours he's spent studying, preparing, watching tape, running practices and losing sleep over the little things that most people never notice. He's been through chaos before—injuries, bad calls, missed opportunities—and knows the value of sticking to the process.
"Experience," McVay mutters. "It's about trusting the people you're doing this with."
That's where his confidence really comes from—the people. The coaches and guys sitting in front of him, the men in the trenches, the captains who've been through the battles, who've seen what it takes to climb out of holes like this.
He looks at Matthew Stafford, a quarterback whose career has been a testament to resilience. He looks at Cooper Kupp, even though he's sidelined right now, knowing Kupp's work ethic and heart are contagious even from the sideline.
Then there are the younger players, new faces, some fresh out of college, eyes still wide with the intensity of the NFL. They haven't seen what McVay has, but they're starting to understand. They're beginning to see the grind.
"It's not comfortable," McVay admits. "I'm not going to stand here and pretend like it's easy. But we can't control what's already happened. What matters is how we respond, how we fight to get better every day."
McVay knows this isn't the same Rams team that hoisted the Lombardi Trophy not long ago. So many moving parts. So many injuries. So many young guys have been thrust into the fire.
But McVay isn't interested in excuses. The NFL doesn't care about why you lose—it only cares if you do. And right now, his job is to keep this group focused, to make them believe that 0-2 is just a number, not a prophecy.
"We've got to be in rhythm," he continues, and his voice sharpens just a little. "Weekly, daily, hourly. The small stuff matters more than ever now."
It's not glamorous, the grind he's talking about. It's not about some magical game plan or a play that will change the season. It's about the repetition, the discipline, the daily push to get one percent better. It's about the practice field, where the team will spend the next week sweating through drills, refining techniques, and tightening up the little details that cost them in the last game.
The offensive line, where the struggles have been most apparent, has captured his attention. He knows they've been dealing with injuries, that continuity has been hard to find. But they're pros. They understand the game. McVay trusts that if they can find their rhythm and string together good practices, things will start to shift.
But it's more than that, more than just X's and O's or blocking schemes. McVay knows that football is about energy, about momentum, about belief. And right now, his job is to make the 53 men in the locker room believe again––to remind them that they're capable of more than what they've shown.
He knows the rising frustration of his men. Good. They should be. But he also sees that they're ready to work, and that's all he needs. With the San Francisco 49ers preparing to invade Sofi Stadium on Sunday, the Rams need a great week of preparation. They need to build on it. And they need to keep going.
He doesn't need to say more than he has. There's an energy now, a quiet confidence that ripples throughout the organization.
The veterans understand the weight of his words. The younger players, still hungry, feel that spark of hope rekindle. They know what's coming: more long days, more tough practices, more moments where it'll feel like nothing is changing, but McVay's voice lingers in the air, steady and sure.
He's not selling a fantasy. He's not promising a quick fix. He's offering something more powerful: the belief that through hard work, through resilience, through trusting the process, they can turn it around. He's done it before. He'll do it again.