Round 2: One linebacker, one defensive end.
Round 3: One defensive tackle, one linebacker.
Round 6: One cornerback, one defensive tackle.
The 5th-round pick was traded to the Cleveland Browns for an offensive tackle.
The 7th-round pick was traded to the San Francisco 49ers for a cornerback.
In other words, after the full three days of the 2018 NFL Draft concluded, the Kansas City Chiefs had selected eight defensive players and just one offensive player.
The strategy was clear.
At this point, the structural blueprint of the team being built by GM Brett Veach and head coach Andy Reid had begun to take shape.
The offense was being developed around young talents Patrick Mahomes and Lance. Though still a work in progress, with help from Tyreek Hill and Travis Kelce, the Chiefs had started forming a preliminary offensive "iron triangle."
Of course, one lingering question remained: How capable was Mahomes? Could he successfully step into Alex Smith's shoes and adapt quickly to the pace of the pro game? Would the Chiefs' offensive system need to be adjusted?
At the very least, Veach was following his blueprint, step by step, and this year, it was the defense's turn to get a makeover.
Last season, Kansas City's secondary was underwhelming—especially after the loss of defensive leader Eric Berry for the year, which only made matters worse.
But rebuilding a defense is an art. The Chiefs didn't find suitable secondary prospects in the draft, so they opted to trade for cornerbacks instead, while focusing their draft picks on bolstering the defensive front.
No one had forgotten how Kansas City clawed their way through the playoffs with clutch red-zone defensive stands.
Now, Veach was aiming to fortify that foundation even further.
Fortunately, despite facing salary cap challenges, Smith's departure helped relieve the pressure. This youthful team turned a crisis into opportunity, making fewer but more precise offseason moves.
Though the Chiefs had remained relatively low-profile, league analysts still took notice. For the second year in a row, their front office drew high praise:
"...It's clear they're preparing to defend their Super Bowl title."
With the draft concluded and the flurry of free agency moves dying down, the NFL offseason had entered a new phase. Some teams were full of optimism for the new season, while others nervously contemplated the mess they faced.
Then came the start of voluntary minicamps.
The offseason wasn't over—adjustments would continue through July—but for players, it was time to shake off the rust.
Technically, these training sessions were optional, with full respect for individual players' wishes. The focus was mainly on recovery and warm-ups, with limited tactical drills.
Skipping the workouts wouldn't earn anyone the coach's ire.
Still, most players preferred to participate—not to win favor with coaches, but because:
Teams used these sessions to assess players' fitness, injuries, and offseason weight gains, giving athletes time to make adjustments before the season.
New players—free agents and rookies—attended to make good first impressions. Veterans needed to develop chemistry with them.
At the very least, Lance wouldn't miss it. Neither would Mahomes or Kelce.
Their time in Miami was over. Lance packed his bags, ready to return.
Buzz. Buzz-buzz-buzz.
His phone vibrated so violently it nearly shook the glass table apart.
Lance hadn't planned to answer. Everyone was used to him being unreachable during training—just leave a message, and he'd reply later.
But the phone rang again.
Lance glanced at the screen: an unfamiliar number.
"Hey, this is Lance." He answered anyway.
"Oh. So this is your number? I thought Justin gave me the wrong one." A slightly unfamiliar voice came through the line.
A pause. The caller seemed to know Lance's "quirk" and added, helpfully:
"Darrelle Revis. Cornerback."
Lance hadn't expected that. "Sorry, I'm not looking to buy insurance right now."
Revis, caught off guard for once, burst out laughing, but the savvy veteran quickly recovered. "Maybe you should. Give it a few years, and your body will start filing complaints."
That, Lance hadn't expected either. "Thanks for the tip. I'll seriously consider it."
Wait—he actually accepted it?
Revis had expected more banter, but now felt a bit off-balance. He awkwardly changed the subject. "I heard you've been in Miami. Been partying hard this offseason?"
Thinking back to the intensity of the Watt brothers' training camp...
Lance nodded. "Yeah. Wild. Absolutely."
Revis misunderstood and laughed heartily. "Then stay a few more days."
Lance didn't clarify. "Miami's weather is heavenly. I get why God made this the waiting room to paradise. But you know what? I kinda miss Kansas City's chill."
Revis paused. "That's because you think of KC as home. No matter where we go, in the end, we just want to go home."
Lance's brow furrowed. There was something wistful in Revis' tone—something hard to define. "Darrelle, you okay? You're not thinking of heading back to the Jets, are you?"
"Heh." Revis chuckled. "Haha, rookie—you're a funny guy. And a sharp one."
Truthfully, Revis didn't know why he had called Lance.
He had no close friends on the Chiefs—or the Texans, for that matter. He'd only joined for a couple of months. Calling anyone "friend" felt forced.
But the sad part was—when he made the most pivotal decision of his career, there was no one he could think to share it with.
He never considered himself greedy. Even when conflicts arose over money, even when people called him selfish or a mercenary, he didn't believe he'd done anything wrong.
Friends? Pfft. Were they going to pay rent or put food on the table?
As he prepared to leave, a wave of confusion and loneliness crept in.
And after dialing, he froze.
What was he supposed to say?
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