The head referee held up the coin, ready to flip, and turned toward Lance.
Lance widened his eyes. "Sir, we're the home team."
"Ah—sorry, sorry." The ref snapped out of it and turned to Suggs. "Heads or tails?"
Suggs scowled like a storm cloud, glaring at the referee with heavy disapproval—
By rule, the visiting team chooses first in overtime.
Clearly, the ref had a bit of a brain freeze.
But Lance didn't seem to mind. He just smiled brightly at Suggs, polite as ever, making a welcoming gesture like a host offering tea.
Suggs felt like he'd swallowed a brick. The gesture made him look petty and overly sensitive in comparison. He nearly cracked a molar trying to hold himself back, but in the end, he took a breath and answered:
Then he shot Lance a sinister grin and tapped his temple with a finger—clearly warning him:
Watch your head, rookie.
The referee didn't notice the threat. He flipped the coin and stepped back, hands wide, to prevent any suspicion of cheating.
All eyes tracked the coin. Up… flip… flip… falling…
The entire stadium held its breath.
When the coin hit the ground and rolled, everyone gave it space. No one dared touch it, or they'd have to redo the toss.
And then, in the deafening silence, the ref's voice echoed through Arrowhead Stadium:
"Kansas City Chiefs win possession for the first half of overtime—"
Arrowhead Stadium exploded like a volcano. After such a savage, nail-biting game, the crowd still had plenty of energy left. The cheers poured out like a tsunami, shaking the air and defying the cold.
Even the setting sun seemed to pause in awe.
Lance looked up—right into Suggs' pitch-black expression.
He smiled, spread his arms, and shrugged innocently. "Can't be helped."
Suggs nearly exploded from sheer rage.
He turned and walked off the field.
Next up—Kansas City Chiefs Offense vs. Baltimore Ravens Defense.
Suggs was determined to show this rookie that coin tosses don't win games. Even if Luck had favored Kansas City, the Ravens would snatch victory from her hands and walk away untouched.
You called the storm. Now you'll get one.
The Ravens defense had smothered the Chiefs offense all game. That wasn't going to change now. Mahomes and Lance would keep struggling.
Suggs was already sharpening his blades.
"Whew. We all need to take a deep breath."
"The Chiefs have possession first. This matchup—Chiefs Offense vs. Ravens Defense—is elite vs. elite, and it's been the story all game."
"Back with four minutes left in regulation, it was Lance's insane playmaking that lit the spark. The Chiefs offense clawed through the Ravens' defense and scored the game-tying touchdown."
"And that's why we're here now."
"Now, they'll open overtime with that same clash. It's gonna be one to watch. Can't help but be hyped."
"Tony, what's your take?"
Nantz, fired up, finally paused to let Romo speak.
He'd been there before. He knew what overtime meant.
"The key in OT is finding that balance between playing it safe and taking calculated risks."
Meanwhile, down on the sideline, Lance took a sip of water—while cracking a joke.
"No no no, Travis. You gotta update those dance moves, or people are gonna think you're from the Boomer generation."
With a serious face, Lance mimicked Kelsey doing the Crayon Shin-chan elephant dance.
Kelsey looked offended. "Me? Boomer?"
Technically, Boomers were born after WWII. The youngest would be in their 50s now.
Kelsey puffed out his chest. "People say I look younger than you."
The whole team jeered. Even a tense and distracted Mahomes couldn't help himself.
"Travis, shave your beard before you say that."
Kelsey just laughed and broke into the Gangnam Style dance.
Lance slowly scooted away, acting like he didn't know him. The rest of the team followed suit.
Kelsey looked around at the sudden empty space around him.
"Hey, you guys are discriminating against Justin."
Houston: ??? What did I do?
Even Coach Reid couldn't hide a smile.
Off to the side, Assistant Coach Childress leaned toward Burns.
"This rookie… has he always been ?"
Burns thought for a moment. "Since his very first game."
Childress raised his chin slightly.
This was the team's first overtime. The tension showed—players, coaches, everyone. Even Reid, who appeared calm and composed like an anchor, was under serious pressure.
Overtime was unpredictable. Add the Ravens' relentless defense, and you had a perfect storm.
The Chiefs had struggled. This wasn't like playing the Patriots or the Rams. Here, they had a shot to win OT—but that made it scarier.
Because no one can predict overtime.
Same game, different vibes. Raw hype alone wouldn't cut it.
Some things can't be helped—like lack of experience.
And for this young Chiefs team, filled with second- and third-years, this kind of test was part of growing up.
But what if they lost?
Just imagining it sent a chill down their backs.
Even with first possession, the team couldn't relax. What if they didn't score?
NFL overtime is like a penalty shootout—your heart's always pounding.
But Lance noticed the tension.
With just a few jokes and casual banter, the pressure began to melt away—more effective than any motivational speech.
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