Calm yet resolute, composed yet confident.
Lance was still Lance—he didn't sugarcoat reality, nor did he shy away from it. He faced failure head-on, with courage and honesty.
Mahomes stared into Lance's eyes, briefly stunned, before completely losing control. Tears gushed forth, bitter frustration and anger contorting his expression. He frantically wiped his face with the back of his hand, nodding clumsily, his words trembling.
"I'll remember. I will."
The lesson wasn't complicated, but truly enduring such a painful loss took time—especially for someone as young as Mahomes.
Even though Mahomes tried to pull himself together, it was nearly impossible. His face buried in his hands, sweat pouring down, his cheeks flushed crimson, that kind of bitterness and pain was gut-wrenching.
Sometimes, Lance wondered: was it more hopeless to lose a game so badly that victory was never in sight? Or was it more agonizing to fight tooth and nail until the very last second, only to watch victory slip away at the finish line?
Lance took a deep breath.
"Remember what we always say?"
"We celebrate victory together as a team, and we face defeat together as a team."
"It's not just empty words. Victory and failure are never about one person alone."
On the surface, Mahomes' interception did seem like the final turning point—but even after that, the defense and special teams had chances to clamp down, to force overtime for the Kansas City Chiefs—
Including Lance himself, with his fingertip miss on that block.
But none of them could seize the moment.
For the first time, Lance deeply understood the significance of the first football lesson Burns had ever taught him—
Football is a team sport. Without every single link functioning, victory might be impossible. The quarterback may command attention, but every position holds value.
"Not one player can be missing."
Those were Burns' exact words.
So, when they won, it wasn't just because of one person. When they lost, it wasn't just because of one mistake.
"We had chances—from the first second to the last. Always."
"Sherlock, you're our quarterback. You of all people should understand how important it is to see the full picture. Victory and defeat aren't just about one mistake or detail. We have to look at the whole game, as a team. Otherwise, next time we face this situation, the result may not change."
"We can't obsess over past details. The endless 'what ifs' will drive us insane. We need to focus on the whole picture. We need to look forward."
"Hey, it's just a regular season game. Aren't you looking forward to facing them again?"
The Chiefs and Patriots wouldn't meet again in the regular season. If they met again this year, it would be in the playoffs—
That one sentence was enough to make Mahomes lift his head, his cheeks still red, but the fire in his eyes reigniting.
Even though this game had just ended, Mahomes was already eager to face the New England Patriots again.
Ambition burned fiercely in his chest.
Lance offered a small smile—
Anger and sadness were good—they meant you cared. But those emotions couldn't trap you forever. You had to turn them into fuel, into the courage to fight forward.
Lance knew that was enough. The rest? Time would handle it.
Lance stood, offering his right hand.
Mahomes grabbed it, using Lance's strength to pull himself to his feet.
Lance didn't say more. He patted Mahomes on the shoulder, ready to turn away—there were other players on the team still trapped in their own frustration. But before he could take a step, a chaotic noise tangled his attention—
From the stands, right behind the Chiefs' bench.
To be precise, those filthy, vile, indecent words had never stopped—from kickoff to the final whistle. And after Gostkowski's game-winning kick? They reached their peak.
Football wasn't quite as savage as English soccer hooliganism, but as a high-contact sport, fan aggression and violence were hard to avoid.
Especially with the economic crisis spreading across North America in recent years, high unemployment had bred frustration, unrest, and anger—all of it vented inside stadiums.
Tonight was no exception.
New England had never welcomed "outsiders." It was, without question, one of the most discriminatory regions in North America.
Last season, Gillette Stadium had already given Lance a bitter welcome. But the Chiefs had silenced them with back-to-back wins and walked out victorious.
Gillette Stadium exploded with pride, their long-awaited triumph finally arriving. Even Tom Brady, usually restrained, broke character, parading half a lap in wild celebration, riling up the crowd—and the fans? They unleashed everything they'd held back.
This time, they added a new target—
Mahomes, mixed race—Black father, white mother—stood in a complicated space. Some Black communities said he wasn't Black enough; some white communities said he wasn't white enough. He was caught awkwardly between.
During rookie camp, the media had even provoked him with questions about his identity.
Despite increasing acceptance in the NFL, Black quarterbacks remained a minority. After injuries sidelined the "big four" running QBs, the wave quieted. Recently, Wentz and Goff became media favorites again. Mahomes' position was undeniably complicated.
He had responded proudly, saying he was honored to be Black—but believed performance on the field defined a player, not skin color.
Last season, as a backup, Mahomes avoided the spotlight. Few cared much about him.
In New England, like Lance, Mahomes was a minority. From start to finish, the Gillette Stadium crowd targeted him relentlessly. And after the Patriots' game-winning kick? Their verbal assault peaked.
Filthy, offensive slurs rained down like a storm.
Lance didn't care to engage. There was no point bickering with a swarm of barking dogs. But ignoring them and being unable to ignore them were two different things. When those dogs finally lost control and lunged—
Lance wasn't going to stand idle.
The voices, sensing Mahomes' vulnerability, bared their fangs—
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