When you're young, you're simply happy when you're happy, sad when you're sad, annoyed when you're annoyed—emotions are straightforward and unfiltered.
Then one day, you start to understand what it means to feel joy laced with sorrow, to laugh through tears. You feel conflicted and helpless as emotions entangle, and that's when you realize you've grown up. In the adult world, feelings are complex and intertwined—joy and sorrow can coexist, love and resentment too.
That day had finally arrived. Mahomes thought he'd be thrilled, yet he suddenly realized it wasn't as exhilarating as he had imagined.
Bitterness. Loss. Reluctance. Guilt.
A storm of strange emotions surged forward all at once.
Mahomes took a deep breath, turned to Lance, and asked earnestly, "So… is it okay for me to be happy?"
"Of course," Lance replied without hesitation.
Still, Mahomes didn't celebrate right away. Instead, he looked up at the sky—
Miami's night sky was clear and vast, stars scattered across it as though wandering the Milky Way.
"Captain mentioned that before the divisional game, you said we'd count stars together after the match. He still doesn't get what it meant."
Lance blinked, surprised Smith had shared that little story. It showed their bond was closer than he thought. A smile crept onto his lips. "It's just a song lyric."
"It says that we become blinded by money, work, and glory until we forget why we started. Back when we had nothing, we'd lie under the sky counting stars—that was our joy, even in poverty."
"So I hoped he wouldn't overthink things. Just return to the beginning, enjoy the game, enjoy the battle, and leave no regrets."
Mahomes didn't respond. He kept gazing at the stars in silence.
Lance didn't interrupt.
He wasn't in Mahomes's shoes, and couldn't pretend to know exactly how he felt.
Whoosh.
After a while, Mahomes let out a heavy breath. "Back-to-back championships… that's tough, huh?"
Lance blinked. "Are you sure I'm the right guy to ask?"
"Haha." Mahomes chuckled. "Yeah, it's hard. Only the Patriots have done it since the turn of the century."
"But…"
"Lance, what if we fail to repeat? What if we crash out of the playoffs in the first round? What if we don't even make the playoffs? What if I screw everything up?"
"Mahomes—" Lance began.
But Mahomes couldn't stop.
"It's happened before. The Patriots won in 2001 but missed the playoffs in 2002."
"What if I'm not ready? What if I start us off on the wrong foot and derail the whole team?"
He spilled it all out, fast and frantic.
Lance let him. Mahomes had probably been wrestling with all of this internally for weeks—soaring highs and crashing lows. Better to let it out.
Finally, when he ran out of steam, Mahomes looked at Lance with eyes full of worry and confusion.
Lance finally spoke. "Then let's focus on right now. One step at a time. Don't worry about repeating. Don't worry about the playoffs. Focus on yourself. Take it one game at a time, one battle at a time. Leave nothing behind. Don't get to the end of the season saying 'if only.' Start now."
"Mahomes, remember?"
"Count the stars."
"Go back to the basics. Start fresh. Keep it simple and pure. Build it one brick at a time."
"Now, the Chiefs are your team. If you don't want regrets, then let's start now. Training camp isn't over."
Mahomes calmed down.
Lance had that effect on people. He gave off this quiet strength, a sense of calm no matter what came his way. Nothing could shake him. He faced every challenge with a steady heart.
Of course, Lance wasn't invincible. He could fail, get hurt, feel sorrow—but he never had regrets.
Because every time he fought, he gave everything.
More importantly, he never fought alone.
Mahomes had been waiting for this—waiting to take the field beside Lance. They'd shared a few moments last season. Now, it was finally becoming real.
Thinking of that, Mahomes felt a fire quietly light inside him.
If he didn't want regrets, he had to seize every moment. No looking back. Live in the now, and use each moment to shape a future full of possibilities.
"Training!"
Mahomes clenched his fists.
"Lance, I want to study the Vikings' and Jaguars' defenses from last season. Oh, and the divisional game against the Patriots. How did Belichick scheme so effectively to sack the captain multiple times? That wasn't normal."
The new season, new playbooks.
Every year, teams update their playbooks. Last year's schemes become obsolete, especially the coded calls—mainly to avoid leaks when players transfer.
Even though Smith and Mahomes were both pocket passers, Smith was more traditional with limited mobility. Mahomes, younger and more athletic, could extend plays outside the pocket.
Naturally, Kansas City's playbook would need a full overhaul.
It was already clear: once spring camp began, the entire offense would be busy from top to bottom.
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Powerstones?
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