Mellinger Minutes: on this Chiefs team and how to handle watching a Chiefs Super Bowl
Well, of course I’m biased on this but the best moment of an otherwise overdone and superficial Opening Night of Super Bowl LIV week came from Chiefs cornerback Charvarius Ward. I was wandering by, I think looking for Austin Reiter but who the heck knows, and I did not hear the question. But I heard Ward’s answer.
“I was in a wheelchair,” he said. “Maybe you don’t know that but a lot of people do because my man Sam wrote the article.”
I turned around and Ward smiled back and that’s when it hit me: Super Bowl week involving a team you follow closely must be like a band dropping an album you’ve already listened to.
A thousand times.
A little more every day this week, the broader football world and casual sports fans will get to know the Chiefs the way Kansas City already does.
There is no way to really quantify this, but it sure does feel like Kansas Citians care more about how their city and teams are perceived nationally than is either necessary or normal. This Super Bowl will be watched by some 100 million people across the world, most of whom will also consume at least some of the eleventy kajillion tons of coverage during the week.
Another way of saying it: a city that bristles at every slight (Google Jason La Canfora and Kansas City sometime) and celebrates every compliment (this newspaper republished a story with the following headline: New York Times falls in love with downtown KC streetcar) is about to have more attention on it than ever before.
Boasts will be made.
We will hear Andy Reid talk about “what’s real,” and he will also say “that’s how we roll with it.” We will hear defensive coordinator Steve Spagnuolo tell the story of a coach telling him Tyrann Mathieu changes a locker room’s culture “the second he walks through the door,” and offensive Eric Bieniemy talk about “putting consistent behavior on tape” and Patrick Mahomes talk about what he does “each and every single day” and so on.
Stories will be written and TV segments made on how the Chiefs traded up for Mahomes, and how Reid developed “Pat plays” to bring out his best.
We’ll have narratives, brother. Get ready for talk about the Chiefs’ deep history of quarterbacks who used to be backups for the 49ers, and about the Chiefs’ and Reid’s disappointing postseason histories.
In some ways it will be a week spent retelling many of the stories Kansas City already knows by heart, except with a megaphone. You will hear people say Reid can’t win the big one, or that the Chiefs are a house of cards propped up by Mahomes, or that Mahomes is overrated, or that Mahomes is actually underrated, and by the end of the week none of it will make sense.
If you allow yourself to dive deep into the analysis, you’ll eventually believe that George Kittle is actually a robot sent from the future, and that the 49ers’ Cover 3 behind their front four is less a football defense and more like an impenetrable forcefield. You’ll also believe that every time Mahomes throws a pass an angel gets its wings.
It’s all nonsense, in other words, and full disclosure: I’m sure I’ll give you some nonsense during the week ahead.
Please don’t hold that against me. I am but a man.
This week’s eating recommendation is (ahem) anything at Miami Ice and the reading recommendation is Grant Wahl on Jurgen Klopp.
Please give me a follow on Twitter and Facebook, and as always thanks for your help and thanks for reading.
Look, man. You know what I’m going to say first: nobody can tell you how to be a fan. You do you. There are no wrong answers here.
I can tell what I’d do. I love Super Bowl parties. This is the first Super Bowl I’ve covered in three years, and there are parts of it I’ve missed but I really did enjoy having a free mind and watching the game with friends and six bowls of queso. It’s a communal experience, not just with the people you’re watching with, but also across the country.
That night we talk about the game. The next day it’s the commercials. What we’ll remember. All of that stuff.
But, if the roles were reversed, and I was the one with a real job trying to figure out how to watch my favorite team play its first Super Bowl in 50 years, I can tell you with 100 percent certainty that I would do one of two things.
I would watch the game by myself, or I would carefully cultivate a small group of friends with the same rooting interest.
Because if I’m rooting for a team that’s broken my heart so often and in so many brutal ways, the last thing I want to do is watch the game with people who are asking how Tyreek Hill is so good when he’s so short.
I want two to four people with me who won’t flinch if I throw a pillow across the room, and who know exactly what I mean if I say OH MY GOD THEY’RE PLAYING PRESS MAN ON 10 WITH NO SAFETY OVER THE TOP.
You will and should do whatever makes you feel comfortable, but that’s where I’m at.
It’s a heck of a thought, and if we take the question literally there is of course no one answer for everyone. How you feel is how you feel, and nobody can tell you it’s wrong.
Whatever it’s worth, I’m not sure the parallel can be made with the Royals. Same city, sure, and many of the same fans. But I’m not sure I know anyone who feels like they have the exact same relationship with the Royals as they do with the Chiefs.
Those Royals teams were fleeting. I think everyone understood that group had an expiration date. For the most part, the stars of that team were in their arbitration years. Maybe the Royals could buy out a few — and they did, with Sal Perez, Alex Gordon and a few others — but the group was getting broken apart by free agency and a financial landscape in which small-market teams simply don’t play the same game as those from bigger markets.
The Royals had more stars than they could keep, in other words, and we all knew it. In some ways, that was part of the fun. They had this specific moment together and we all wanted to see what they would do with it.
The NFL operates differently. My kids are in kindergarten and preschool, and when they’re in high school Mahomes will still be the Chiefs’ quarterback. In 10 or 12 years, there will be parents with every Mahomes jersey they bought for their kids — from size 4T on up to adult extra-large.
So, win or lose on Sunday we are only in the beginning of brand new era of the franchise.
There is another part of this, though, and maybe it’s the part you’re asking about. Part of the Chiefs’ identity for decades has been as the team that’s good enough to break your heart in the good years, and so bad you might joke that parking should be more expensive and game tickets cheaper in the bad years.
These things can change on a dime, but after consecutive double-digit comebacks it sure feels like blooper-reel playoff losses will now be the exception rather than the norm.
The NFL changes fast, and maybe Lamar Jackson or Deshaun Watson or Trevor Lawrence or some kid I’ve never heard of will alter this someday, but for now and the immediate future the Chiefs will have the better coach-quarterback combination in every game they play.
That is a tremendous advantage.
There is a point where if the Chiefs win enough, then Chiefs fans will become obnoxious the same way Patriots fans have become obnoxious. We’re not there yet, and won’t be for a while.
My guess is that if the Chiefs win on Sunday you won’t care less, but you will care differently. The identity of the team will have changed. You will be rooting for the house, and the Chiefs will be favored in virtually every game with a different level of hype until and unless they prove they’re not worth it.
Tyrann Mathieu.
He’s on the outside looking in either way, but if this is indeed the beginning of a sustained run of the Chiefs playing deep into postseasons, it will be mostly about Mahomes but also largely about Mahomes being paired with a good defense.
As we sit here today, Mathieu (along with Steve Spagnuolo, but it takes a lot for a defensive coordinator to have a Hall of Fame case) is well positioned to be remembered as the one who saved the Chiefs’ defense.
He was a star when he signed with the Chiefs, and then he played the best season of his career.
The Chiefs’ secondary was broken and beaten down before he arrived, and then was the strength of a defense that finished seventh in scoring (1.3 points per game worse than the 49ers’ defense, which you’ll hear a lot about this week).
The Patriots’ incredible run of success — and for reasons that range from Tom Brady’s age to Mahomes and Lamar Jackson and Deshaun Watson, I’m using the past tense here — was mostly about the quarterback and the head coach ... but they also had some Hall of Famers on defense.
Mathieu is productive, and he also plays with a level of smarts and commitment that is valued by both the voters and those who influence them.
I want to be clear: Mathieu is unlikely to be inducted into the Hall of Fame. Only 13 safeties have ever made it.
But he could be in the beginning stages of building a hell of an interesting case.
One hundred and three days ago in Denver, when Patrick Mahomes’ kneecap slid to the side of his leg, it was easy to wonder if the Chiefs’ chances of being special had just been — please Lord forgive me — dislocated.
The Chiefs have a lot of good players, and they are supported by good coaches, but this is a scoring league driven by quarterbacks and Matt Moore is a fine backup, but c’mon, let’s be real here.
Mahomes did not play after the injury early in the second quarter, and in fairness Joe Flacco stinks — and even by his standards stunk that night — but the Chiefs destroyed the Broncos. They sacked Flacco eight times and recorded a ninth sack on a well-defended fake punt. The defense scored a touchdown.
Moore played well, particularly considering he had never thrown a pass to most of his receivers, and the Chiefs won big.
When it was all over, the Chiefs winning a division game on the road, I still thought the story was Mahomes’ injury. Remember at the time nobody knew he would only miss two games. The most optimistic thought seemed to be four to six games, and with the way the schedule and season was playing out, you had to wonder if the Chiefs would be sunk by the time he returned.
So I went downstairs a little early to watch the guys come into the locker room. They’re usually pretty serious, and with what we know about Mahomes’ importance and love from teammates, I thought the mood would be telling.
Full transparency: I expected them to be upset.
Full honesty: They were not upset.
Some of that was what they saw in Mahomes after the injury. He somehow started walking off the field, and word spread that he was pushing to return to the game. When they got into the locker room afterward, their quarterback was waiting with a smile and energy and inspiring words.
So, that was a lot of it. They knew Superman was coming back.
But I’ve come to believe that something else was happening. I’ve come to believe that the Chiefs saw that night that they could win without Mahomes, and specifically that they could win with defense.
Spagnuolo, the new defensive coordinator and change agent, told his guys to not let that be remembered as their best game. I remember thinking at the time that it was the sort of thing a coach should say, but also that the game would likely be remembered as the defense’s best.
And, in many real ways, it is the best they played. The defense scored more points than the offense it defended. That’s a pretty amazing thing.
But I think part of what Spagnuolo was saying is that if they went back to playing defense like they had the first month or so, then that game in Denver would be remembered as a fluke.
You can pick nits on which is the best game.
But merely getting to that point of nitpicking is an accomplishment on its own — it means the defense played well enough often enough to create a debate.
Mahomes is the engine that makes everything go, but for a stretch of five weeks or so the defense was better than the offense. This was difficult for many to say out loud at the time, but it was true.
The Chiefs still employ the world’s best quarterback and most dynamic offense, but they also have a defense capable of winning games on its own.
Some of this is hindsight, and some of it is the sportswriter’s tendency to want to find A Moment, but I believe that all started that night in Denver.
He probably has been whitewashed a bit, and I’ve probably been part of that. I want you to know it’s nothing personal. I liked John when he was here. I still do. He has a goofy, often self-deprecating sense of humor when he knows he isn’t being quoted.
I believe the effectiveness of a scout is often overstated. I believe there’s far more randomness to it than a lot of people want to believe, because randomness doesn’t make for a great story. But I also believe that Dorsey has a track record that shows his judgments are better than most.
In a $15 billion industry in which rosters are limited by salary caps, that is an almost literally invaluable skill.
Dorsey moved quickly and decisively when Mitchell Schwartz became available. He saw something in Mitch Morse, in Laurent Duvernay-Tardif, in Tyreek Hill, in Chris Jones. It’s sometimes hard to know exactly where to draw the line between which players are Dorsey’s and which are Reid’s.
Reid wanted Alex Smith, for instance, and Dorsey was the facilitator. Dorsey was always gracious in giving Chris Ballard credit for being the point man on drafting Marcus Peters, though I suppose some would now see that as a negative (despite it all). Reid obviously had a relationship with Travis Kelce’s family, and when Kelce essentially redshirted his rookie year there were some in the front office who wondered if he would have much of an impact.
The Chiefs’ biggest personnel move of the last seven years (and franchise history, if we’re honest) was the trade up to select Patrick Mahomes in the 2017 draft. Terez wrote the tick-tock of that process, but the shorthand is that Veach identified Mahomes first, then got Reid on board, and then Dorsey coordinated the trade.
A book could be written about that trade, but I know enough to know it would not have happened without Veach. Smith was adored and universally respected in the front office, even by those who believed he’d reached his ceiling. Without an early adopter and passionate advocate like Veach and eventually Reid, the Chiefs almost certainly would’ve drafted someone else.
Who knows, maybe Reuben Foster. The Chiefs needed an inside linebacker, and it’s easy to forget now but there was some buzz around the league connecting the two.
I can only speak for my perspective and my coverage, but that’s why Dorsey hasn’t been discussed more in Kansas City, or given as much credit for where the Chiefs are today.
Everything about the Chiefs’ so-called narrative is about Mahomes, and that deal was driven by Veach and then Reid.
But at least two good points can be made here.
First, you’re right, absolutely, Dorsey is part of this. He took over a mess and he made it better. He inherited a roster headlined by a few stars — six Pro Bowlers on a 2-14 team is a feat that may never again be matched — but dragged down by too many holes. Dorsey was an important part of the solution, improving team speed, most notably.
And even if Mahomes wasn’t “his guy” in the beginning, part of a GM’s job is to read the room and trust those he works with. This is easy to forget now, but the trade up to get Mahomes was seen by many as risky. If Mahomes flopped, it wouldn’t have been on Veach.
The second thing to remember is that Reid is the one driving the bus. That’s true now, with Veach as the GM, and it was true when Dorsey had the job. That truth has been exaggerated by some, particularly since Veach got the job, with this image created that Veach is a yes-man or a caddy.
There’s a lot more nuance to it than that. Reid has final say, but one of his greatest strengths is a lack of ego. He’ll listen. He’ll trust. But he has to be convinced.
At some point, we’ll probably do a thing where we divide the credit of roster construction. Just spitballing here, but Reid should get more than 50 percent, and Veach should get more than 50 percent of what’s left.
Dorsey had an important role, and he filled it well.
You’re right to remember that.
But he also hasn’t been the GM for almost three years. The NFL moves fast.
I actually think this is a fairly straightforward case to make, and look, no disrespect:
The 49ers are great. They are well-balanced, can win in any phase and have some human stories worth rooting for — Kyle Shanahan’s redemption after 28-3, for instance, or Jimmy Garoppolo winning a Super Bowl after being traded from Tom Brady’s shadow. George Kittle seems supremely likable. We should all have Richard Sherman’s confidence.
But just objectively the Chiefs are more exciting, they employ the best player and they have the football industry’s favorite human interest story. We can do these in order.
The Chiefs have the league’s fastest player, and another who would be his team’s fastest player on about 27 other teams. Travis Kelce is the most dynamic pass-catching tight end in the sport. The NFL has made a literal business decision to sell itself on scoring, and the Chiefs are better positioned than anyone to take advantage. They also celebrate like a mother.
To summarize: they play the way the league wants football to look, and they have a hell of a lot of fun doing it.
Patrick Mahomes is the biggest star in the country’s most popular sport. At some point, because this is the way the world works, that will no longer be as fun. Something will have gone wrong, or he will not have fulfilled some talking head’s demands of what should’ve been accomplished in a game or a season or a fourth-quarter drive, and the conversation will shift.
But right now he is the darling, a charismatic young man without any obvious flaws — he’s polite, smiles a lot at news conferences, gives teammates the credit and has made a habit of producing the magical. This week, the story of that dislocated kneecap will be told as if his whole leg was amputated.
Finally, Andy Reid is one of the most respected men in the industry. About a quarter of the league’s head coaches are either former assistants of Reid’s. Plenty more have called him for advice, whether it’s about their careers or a specific play design. He treats players with respect, and in turn they speak and think highly of him long after they’re done playing for him.
One more win and he can shake football’s ultimate backhanded compliment: the best coach to never win a Super Bowl.
It would be the new highlight of a career already good enough for a convincing Hall of Fame case.
He has gone through torturing losses in football, and unthinkable losses in his personal life. Hard to imagine who wouldn’t be happy for him achieving his profession’s ultimate accomplishment.
I’m not picking on Ryan here, because I’ve heard this sentiment from others. If it was just Ryan, I’d skip this question. But it’s not, so here we are:
I am not shocked by much in sports. There are too many unknowns, too many factors in and out of anyone’s control. I would be flabbergasted if Reid retired after this season, regardless of how Sunday goes, and I would be gobsmacked if he retired after next season, regardless of how it goes.
After the 2020 season, I’ll go back to the thesaurus and come up with another adjective.
Reid is 61 years old and he is (refreshingly) not the old-school, brag-about-sleeping-on-a-cot-in-your-office football coach. Every game, win or lose, his wife Tammy and others in their family greet him on his way to the locker room. He has regular dates with Tammy and prioritizes time with his kids and grandkids whenever possible.
So, sure. At some point it’s easy to imagine Reid retiring so he could spend more time with his family, and if and when that happens he’ll be one of the few who say it honestly.
I just can’t see that time being now, or in a year.
I believe that Reid has waited his entire football for Patrick Mahomes. I believe that coaching this kid, with all the innovation and tricks he’s learned in more than a quarter century of coaching in the NFL, is the experience of a lifetime.
I believe — and this comes from observation, but also conversations with some who know Reid well — that he’s always been a grinder but has been energized first by the new job in Kansas City and then by the new gift of coaching Mahomes and all these playmakers.
It’s just hard to imagine a man spending that much time to create something and then walking away right when it’s created.
I do not pretend to know Reid’s most personal thoughts. We do not have dinner together. We do not vacation together. All of that.
He won’t coach forever. If you put the over-under at four more seasons, I’m not sure which way I’d go. But just watching him now, talking to people who see him away from the cameras, a retirement now or soon would be an absolute shocker.
prize.
Maybe this is just something I think today, early in the week, and to be fair it has the potential to be violently washed out late Sunday night if the Chiefs find some excruciating way to lose.
But I can’t see this being the worst day in Chiefs fans’ lives.
I want to emphasize that I’m saying this as a man whose job would be made tangibly easier if it actually was the worst day. I wish that kind of pain on no man, but heartbreak does make for good content.
Yes, I know what happened with Dan Marino.
Yes, I know that Aaron Rodgers hasn’t been back to a Super Bowl since he won one at age 26 and everyone assumed the Packers would dominate the next decade.
Yes, I understand that win or lose on Sunday the 2020 season will be more difficult than 2019 because Mahomes will make something closer to his actual value and teams that aren’t coached by Bill Belichick often struggle in their Super Bowl encores.
But I also think that even if the Chiefs lose on Sunday their fans will wake up Monday morning with, well, is it too obvious to point they’ll wake up with a hangover?
But besides the hangover they’ll wake up with their favorite team coached by one of the game’s best and quarterbacked by a 24-year-old who won the MVP in his first full season as an NFL starter and led his team to the Super Bowl in the second.
It’ll be exceedingly disappointing, sure, and even Brady wishes he had eight Super Bowl trophies instead of just six.
But a Super Bowl loss would not be the end of this group’s story, is the point. I’m guessing that if given the choice, Chiefs fans would not trade their coach-quarterback combination for anyone else’s, and the roster is filled out with talent at every level.
Not the worst day, is what I’m saying.
Well, first, Marshall is very kind and you know I have to do this: whatever tiny part of the landscape this space and other columns have become is only because you and others have allowed it.
That’s true of sources, who have trusted me with information and emotions and parts of their reputations. But it’s truest of readers, who have trusted that I will be honest and do my best to live up to the responsibility of being your sports columnist.
I think I’ve told this story before, but I was terrified when I first got this job. In the span of about a month, readers of The Star went from having Joe Posnanski and Jason Whitlock writing columns to just me. I can assure you that readers weren’t the only ones who believed they were being unfairly punished.
As it happened, at the same time I was talking to my editors about the column job I had an opportunity to work somewhere else. It was a great opportunity at a place I’d always wanted to work, and it came with the freedom to live virtually anywhere. There were some things going on in my personal life at the time that made that particularly appealing.
But, basically, I chose this job for a simple reason: it sounded like the most fun, it sounded like the bigger challenge, and it sounded like the path with the best personal reward if it all worked out.
A career adviser might’ve told me to go the other way, but the connections that are made when writing for a specific audience in a specific part of the world — particularly one in which I feel such a personal tie — is everything I imagined.
I just needed to get over the fear, and to do that I needed to hear a message from people I trusted: that I could actually do the job.
Some days and columns are better than others, obviously, but I’ve survived this long because I don’t think a week goes by that I don’t look at writing about sports for people who live in or care about Kansas City as a privilege.
So, anyway. That all sounds more self-congratulatory than I’m comfortable with, but what I’m trying to say is thank you to everyone who’s ever read something here.
Also, to answer your question, it’s c). Sports are cyclical enough that you figure anything is possible, and I did get to the point where I thought if I worked hard enough I could do this job well enough to keep it.
But I started this mostly out of desperation. I needed ideas. I’ve tried to quit it a few times, and either you or my editors or both won’t let me.
So ... thanks for that?
Tank is a Chiefs fan!
There isn’t an expiring contract you should be freaked out about. Chris Jones is the closest thing, but the Chiefs can (and almost certainly will) give him the franchise tag and attempt to work out a long-term extension. The Chiefs want him here, and Jones wants to be here. It seems likely that something will be worked out, but the worst-case scenario isn’t a disaster — they get a Pro Bowl season of production for peanuts, then trade him for multiple high picks.
Travis Kelce will likely want a raise. Charvarius Ward is in line for an extension, but could wait a year.
Patrick Mahomes will sign the biggest contract in league history at some point, the only drama being whether he’ll wait for Deshaun Watson to set the market.
At some point, the Chiefs won’t be able to keep everyone. That’s the downside of a salary cap.
But other than this being one of them good problems, the cap is expected to go up anywhere from $8 million to $13 million for next season and could jump even more when the new CBA goes into effect for 2021. The Chiefs can save $14 million by cutting Sammy Watkins, and $7 million more in dead money for 2021.
This is the dance that good teams must execute. There will be no sympathy around the league, and there will be a little more importance on Veach and the front office making the right draft picks.
Well, first, I think $28 million a year would be a tremendous bargain. We’ll get to that in a minute. To answer your question:
I guess there’s a chance?
The contract is going to be, basically, whatever the heck Mahomes wants it to be. It will simultaneously be the biggest contract in league history and not reflective of his true worth.
Russell Wilson got $35 million a year, and Matt Ryan’s contract is worth a total of up to $150 million. Those are records, and Mahomes is likely to shatter each, as well as standards for guarantees.
I understand where you’re coming from, but I think everyone wants to be paid what they’re worth, and there will be some pressure on Mahomes and his agents to maximize their leverage and push to new ground in areas like guarantees and player power.
Mahomes’ deal will be a little different than others because (assuming he signs it after this season) he’ll be giving up two years of club control. His rookie deal calls for $5.2 million next season, according to Spotrac, and because he was a first-round pick the Chiefs have a fifth-year option that would likely pay around $30 million.
Those numbers would factor into Mahomes’ deal. In theory, then, a four-year extension worth $160 million would mean Mahomes would make an average of $32.5 million over the next six seasons.
I don’t know Mahomes’ wishes. I don’t know what his agents want. I do think it’s a little unfair to expect a guy to leave significant money on the table for his first contract, though. Whatever he gets he’ll be underpaid.
Yes.
One hundred times yes.
Maybe that’s an extreme position, but I was a bit of an early adopter with Mahomes and I’m unclear on what part of his career would lead you to believe that he is a) incapable of keeping this up, and b) not perfectly positioned as a major beneficiary in the league’s continued commitment to offense.
I assume Tucker is referencing Veach’s line in a news conference before Mahomes’ first season as a starter, when he called the quarterback the best player he’d ever seen.
At the time it was stunning. And not because it wasn’t honest — but precisely because it was honest.
You just don’t hear coaches or GMs talk like that often. The default is to go vanilla, and no coach or GM wants to put unnecessary pressure on a young player.
Veach said that at the NFL Scouting Combine, and during a training camp conversation he mentioned (unprompted) that he thought people took that out of context. So I asked what he meant, and I’m paraphrasing here, but I’m doing so without exaggeration:
People thought I meant he was better than Jerry Rice or something, but all I meant is that I’ve been doing this a long time and he’s the best player I’ve ever seen or evaluated.
So much for walking it back, huh?
In the two seasons since, I’ve often thought of that conversation when Mahomes does another thing that previously would’ve felt impossible. He is both statistically and aesthetically on the best two-year start to any quarterback’s career in league history.
You can make a specific case that Aaron Donald plays defensive line as well or better than Mahomes plays quarterback. You can make a specific case that Anthony Munoz played left tackle as well or better. You can make a case that Justin Tucker is a better kicker, or that Deion Sanders was a better cornerback. Whatever.
I have no idea how to have that debate, and to be honest I’m not sure which side I’d end up on. I also think that debate misses the point.
Those other positions simply are not as important in modern football, so by definition (and no fault of their own) those other guys are limited as to how high they can go in one of these Best Player debates.
And I don’t think any quarterback has so consistently created yardage from nothing and maximized his effectiveness within the calls as Mahomes. He is a killer outside of the pocket, and often even more dangerous inside it. He can beat you with his reads, and he can beat you with his eyes, and he can beat you with his brain, and he can beat you with his arm. He can also beat you with his legs.
I don’t pretend to be an old head, so if there’s a case for Otto Graham or whatever I’m open.
But you asked about players I’ve seen, and I’ve never seen anything like Mahomes. And I don’t think you have either.
Well, it’s still early and — turn away, if you believe in Santa Claus — I’m writing these specific words before this Super Bowl’s Opening Night. So I’ll have a better idea about this next week.
But, here’s what I know already: the bosses back in the office are a lot more interested in the coverage. There is more planning, and way more coordination.
I covered seven Super Bowls, then sat the last two out. Before, I felt like the goal should be to find something different, anything, so once (and this was a long time ago) I got Antonio Brown talking about his father in Kansas City, and once I went to visit the mayor of a suburban Phoenix town who basically wanted everyone at the game to have a gun.
Now, it’s more of a laser focus on one specific team, and trying to think of new ways to write about a team we’ve written more words about than any media outlet in existence.
I think we can?
There’s more energy, more thought, more stress.
I’m expecting more questions from friends at other outlets about which player would be good for a certain angle, that kind of thing. Mostly, I’m expecting the deadline stress Sunday night to be overwhelming.
Covering a local team in a big event is not new. We had the Royals’ playoff runs and Kansas in the Final Four. But the Super Bowl is different, it’s bigger. There are more people here, and more people reading.
I think the hope is that our institutional knowledge of the team and events can be a springboard for fresh angles and questions. There’s certainly more availability this week than a typical game week.
Right now in my notebook I have a road map for what I’ll write every day I’m here. There are some good stories to be done, so long as I get the right reporting. Please wish me luck.
I tend to be pretty pragmatic when it comes to raising taxes, especially for billion dollar private businesses like professional sports.
I understand the case. I understand that hosting a Super Bowl would boost Kansas City’s profile nationally and internationally, and that having the option for a roof would benefit the Royals not just in avoiding rainouts but in being able to guarantee a dry seat for any fan considering a ticket.
I understand that most people can’t afford the enormous cost of traveling to a Super Bowl, and at their core sports are about memories. I love the idea of people in Kansas City and throughout the Midwest having a lifetime experience that otherwise would be unfeasible.
I also understand that some close to Lamar Hunt say he took the 2006 failed vote on a rolling roof harder than any Chiefs loss.
But I also think that $170 million is a lot to spend on six days leading up to one football game, and a rainout insurance policy for a baseball team.
I think that’s a lot of money to ask from taxpayers, most of whom are not rich, who can use that money to pay their mortgage or feed their kids or — if it has to be taxed — fix their roads and bridges and schools.
Tax money should be used for public goods and services, in my opinion, not to further enrich an already wealthy and foolproof business.
Would be fun, though.
I’ve actually heard some wonder if Self secretly liked the fight. His entire worldview is about toughness, the thinking goes, so part of him had to like that his guys stood up when challenged.
This, to me, goes against everything I believe I know about Self from spending a lot of time around him and talking to him.
I believe the fight bothered him in every way imaginable. It fit the stereotype some are putting on his program with the Adidas investigation, it made him look like he runs a program without discipline, and it happened at home and in the wheelchair section. I believe he views what happened as the opposite of toughness, actually.
I say all that to emphasize that I don’t say the following lightly:
Self is committed at Kansas.
I always thought of him as an eventual NBA coach. It’s just the way he talks about basketball, and follows the league, and interacts with players and scouts. Kansas might be a peer program with college basketball’s best, but college basketball isn’t the best basketball.
I’ve always thought that Self would want the challenge of coaching and coaching against the best in the world.
In a parallel universe, we might be at the point where I’d expect him to be looking for an NBA job.
I could be proven exactly wrong on this, but I think the Adidas investigation has renewed Self’s connection to Kansas. We talked a little about toughness above, and I believe it would make Self’s skin crawl to know that taking an NBA job right now would give people reason to call him soft.
More specifically, I believe it would make Self’s skin crawl to know people would be justified in calling him soft.
I’m not saying he’ll retire at Kansas. Maybe he will. Or maybe this just pushes the timeline back, that he’d coach through the end of the investigation and then feel that it’s time for a fresh start for both him and Kansas. Maybe he’d want to coach through any punishment, seeing that as his duty. Who knows.
But my point here for now is that I can’t believe the fight would change his perspective on any of this.
This week, I’m particularly grateful for an incredible amount of support last week when a personal matter took me away from work. People at the office, friends, family, it was terrific to feel supported. That shouldn’t be taken for granted.