The 13–3 loss to the Seattle Seahawks closed the regular season for the San Francisco 49ers in the heaviest way imaginable. Not just because the division slipped away, but because of the image left behind at Levi’s Stadium —
Brock Purdy on the turf after the final play, his thumb bleeding, his left shoulder throbbing, the stadium locked in uneasy silence.
It came on fourth down, the last snap of the night.
Purdy dropped back, searching for a desperate throw as Seattle’s rush collapsed the pocket. Two defenders arrived almost simultaneously. The contact was violent. The landing worse. Purdy went down face-first, then slowly rose, clutching his shoulder as blood trickled from his thumb. He headed straight for the medical tent amid flashing lights and rising noise.
But the story didn’t end there.
Brock Purdy beat up on the last play.
Thumb bleeding. Not sure what else hurts. Probably everything.
Jogged into the medical tent. pic.twitter.com/WcjDsh94i3— Jeff Mueller, PT, DPT (@jmthrivept) January 4, 2026
According to multiple team sources, after the initial on-field evaluation, Mac Jones personally took Purdy out of the stadium and to a nearby hospital. There were no cameras. No announcements. No media schedule. Jones bypassed the postgame interview area entirely, choosing to stay beside a quarterback in pain rather than stand behind a microphone.
At the hospital, Purdy’s thumb was cleaned and re-bandaged, and his left shoulder was thoroughly imaged. The results brought relief: a nerve stinger with a minor crack, painful but not structurally dangerous. No concussion. No surgery. Doctors fitted him with a shoulder brace for stability and advised monitoring as the playoffs approach.
Jones stayed for all of it.
When the exams were complete and Purdy was cleared to leave later that night, Jones didn’t call for a team car or let his teammate handle the trip alone. He drove Purdy home himself, making sure the 49ers quarterback didn’t have to navigate one of the most painful moments of his season by himself.
mac jones checking up on brock purdy after he got up from his injury 🥺 #FTTB pic.twitter.com/STwyeHmaxi
— j (@49erxmac) January 4, 2026
The next morning, once the injury was confirmed as non-serious, Purdy spoke publicly for the first time — and he didn’t talk about the Seahawks or the officials.
“Mac didn’t have to do any of that,” Purdy said, calm but clearly emotional. “He took me to the hospital, waited with me, then drove me home. In a league this competitive, moments like that say a lot.”
Jones, asked briefly afterward, kept his response simple.
“We’re quarterbacks,” he said. “When someone’s hurting like that, the right thing to do is stay.”
The story quickly spread across the NFL — not because of tactics, playoff seeding, or roughing-the-passer debates, but because it revealed a deeper layer of the league. In a world driven by pressure, ego, and constant comparison, there are still moments when humanity comes first.
For the 49ers, the playoff road now begins on the road. For Purdy, recovery is underway and optimism remains intact. But that night, leaving the hospital with a brace on his shoulder, he carried more than medical results.
He carried a rare reminder of the NFL:
scoreboards can change — but brotherhood endures.
