Chiefs’ championship was not a dream. Super Bowl win is gift that keeps on giving
Didn’t really get much sleep last night after the Chiefs won their first Super Bowl in 50 years? Too much excitement? Too much left to process, too many plans left to make for what happens next?
Time’s yours, and you are not alone.
Confetti fell Sunday night on Kansas City’s newest pro sports champions — pro sports’ newest champions — and it’s still hard to wrap your head around it all, isn’t it?
Patrick Mahomes, Tyrann Mathieu, Andy Reid, Norma Hunt and Clark and the rest of the Hunt family — not to mention every other player on the Chiefs’ 53-man roster, plus countless front-office and support staff, plus anyone who’s ever been associated with or roots for this team — each deserves these moments of joy. The sun rose today in South Florida and back home in KC and everywhere else the Chiefs Kingdom extends, and by God, this not only actually happened but is very much still happening.
The world championship scenes in the underbelly of Hard Rock Stadium after the Chiefs beat the San Francisco 49ers 31-20 in Super Bowl LIV were some of most compelling and sweet and powerful moments a person can witness.
Mahomes squinting upward with the Super Bowl MVP trophy in hand, flurries of confetti landing softly in his curly brown hair. He was ushered with girlfriend Brittany Mathews and his younger sister to a nearby golf cart, then whisked away from the field where he’d orchestrated one of the finest comebacks you’ll ever see in a Super Bowl or anywhere else.
The three rode into the tunnel and down the hallway to the Chiefs’ locker room, where for a few minutes Mahomes could actually relax his shoulders and be himself. Once the cart came to a halt, he hopped off the back and knelt to give his sister a hug and peck on the cheek, then stood tall to kiss Brittany before flitting into the locker room. He’d see them again soon, but now it was time to get showered and changed. An early morning awaited — he and Reid were to meet with the media one final time in Florida at 8:30 a.m. Monday at the team hotel, customary for the winning coach and game’s MVP.
Frank Clark, the defensive end signed last offseason after a blockbuster trade from Seattle, was next to amble in. He looked resolute but was obviously moved by what had just transpired. His start to the season had been a slow one, and along the way some questioned his very acquisition. Only a couple of months into the season did he reveal to The Star that he’d been playing with a neck injury that was hampering his production. As the season progressed, his level of play returned to what had been expected of him, what he’d expected of himself.
“I ain’t never been a champion in life,” he said, “(in) nothing I’ve done. I ain’t never won. ... To be a champion, at the end of the day, it’s one of the greatest feelings in the world.”
Cornerback Charvarius Ward and receivers Demarcus Robinson and Mecole Hardman danced down that same hallway, eager to join their teammates in a jubilant locker room. Many wore gray, short-sleeved Super Bowl Champion T-shirts and matching ballcaps.
All walked proudly, the kind of stature men assume when they know they’ve done something truly grand. Safety Daniel Sorensen and Chris Jones wore wide grins. Team president Mark Donovan and his teen son wandered about; safety Tyrann Mathieu arrived and embraced him, sharing words with the smartly dressed fellow who oversees the Chiefs’ business operations, a former quarterback and team captain at Brown.
Some hooted and hollered and high-fived. Others seemingly couldn’t find words suitable enough for the occasion, so they just nodded and smiled, saying much in saying nothing at all.
There were too many moment-of-a-lifetime subplots to properly recount in any one story, five decades’ of frustration morphed via one pinch-me evening into Kansas City’s best tale of vindication and triumph since the KC Royals won the 2015 World Series. Truthfully, as magical as that moment was, and knowing full well that we should never try to place comparable values on such splendidly serendipitous and disparate milestones, this thing — this Super Bowl championship half a century in the making — felt even bigger than that.
During the course of Sunday night’s game, the NFL honored retired Air Force Colonel Edward Lee Hubbard, who was a prisoner of war in Vietnam on Jan. 11, 1970, when the Chiefs beat the Minnesota Vikings in what until this past weekend was their most recent Super Bowl appearance. Hubbard subsisted on less than 300 calories a day while being confined to a cell measuring 6 feet by 6 feet after his plane was shot out of the sky in July 1966. His weight dropped from 175 pounds to just 98.
Seized by the Viet Cong, Col. Hubbard was held captive for six and a half years overseas. He didn’t find out that his hometown Chiefs had won Super Bowl IV until several years later, when he was finally freed. He’d missed it while fighting every moment for his life.
He did not miss this championship, however. Brought to Miami by the NFL and commissioner Roger Goodell, Hubbard finally got to see his Chiefs hoist a trophy.
Sunday night’s victory means a million different things to a million different people. Fans around the world have sent photos and testimonials of where they were, what they were doing and who they were with when KC’s miserable football drought finally ended. Lamar Hunt biographer and Chiefs historian Michael MacCambridge sent The Star a guest commentary that we published Monday morning. U.S. Senator Josh Hawley, the Missouri Republican, introduced a resolution congratulating the team on its victory; in it, he noted many of the team’s accomplishments and listed the names of each of the 53 Chiefs players who contributed in varying degrees to this historic season.
In the end, everything worked out just perfectly, didn’t it? Mahomes will go to Disneyworld. No one was seriously injured in the game — Reid’s postgame press conference drew laughs when he opened with “No injuries to report!” And contractually speaking, the Chiefs are well-positioned to do this again.
On Wednesday, untold tens of thousands of revelers will crowd into downtown Kansas City for the first Chiefs championship parade in generations. Many schools are shutting down for the day. The sea of blue we saw for the Royals’ World Series celebration four-plus years ago will now be a sea of red. People will pack area hotels, line the parade route, hang from trees and perch atop buildings in hopes of getting a better look at KC’s heroes.
Perhaps tight end Travis Kelce will bellow that Beastie Boys song lyric again, exhorting fans to fight for their right to party. Maybe Mathieu will talk about the value of teammwork. Mahomes will certainly hug his girlfriend and talk about the good things that happen when you play the game the right way. Reid will raise his fist and lead a unified, lusty cheer: “How ‘bout those CHIEEEFFFSSS?!” Clark and Norma Hunt will wave, shake hands and relish bringing so much joy to a fan base left waiting for so long.
They’ll wish Lamar, Clark’s late father and Norma’s husband and the founder of the franchise, could see us now.
He would be so proud of the Chiefs, the fans and what’s been accomplished — not a dream but Kansas City’s wonderful new reality.
