"Good morning."
"Good morning!"
February 4th, 2018. Kansas City. Clear skies.
At the break of dawn, the Old Oak Tavern was already buzzing with life.
Anderson was hauling stock from the back like a pack mule, while West was busy stringing up banners to redecorate the place. Uninvited regulars strolled in and instinctively pitched in—moving chairs and tables to clear space. A scene of vibrant, chaotic cheer.
It was too early to be drinking, perhaps—but never too early to celebrate.
On the wall, a massive 75-inch screen was already tuned to NBC's round-the-clock Super Bowl broadcast. The high-def imagery seemed to radiate an almost physical presence. Even now, hours before kickoff, the energy was palpable.
"How are you feeling today?"
"I have a good feeling—I don't want to jinx it, but this morning I had cheesecake, heard magpies singing, and had a smooth trip to the bathroom. Everything feels perfect."
"Same here. I don't know why, but I woke up relaxed and light today, not a hint of anxiety."
"That's because you're not the one playing—you just get to sit here, drink beer, and shout at the TV. What's there to be nervous about?"
Laughter followed. Jokes, teasing, ribbing. Everyone in high spirits.
Then—
With zero warning—someone threw both hands into the air and roared:
"Kansas City is the champion! Oh yeah!"
The crowd erupted, voices rising like a wave.
And just a beat later, another voice shouted:
"I don't have confidence, but we will win!"
A burst of laughter followed. Joy bloomed on every face.
Today was Super Bowl Sunday.
Kansas City had shut down—city-wide holiday. The streets were empty, the city electrified. Every single fan in town was locked in for one shared moment in time: the Super Bowl.
If they could, every fan would be in Minneapolis. The drive wasn't even that far—just four and a half hours north by car.
But reality said otherwise.
This year, Kansas City's unemployment was still sky-high. Many blue-collar workers had already been forced to give up their season tickets. Some couldn't even afford to go to Arrowhead Stadium—let alone travel out of state.
Never mind the astronomical cost of Super Bowl tickets—just paying for food and lodging in a host city during peak tourist season was enough to break the bank.
So they stayed.
But it didn't matter. Whether in the stadium or not, they were going to fight alongside the Chiefs.
One by one, fans brimming with belief gathered. Just imagining it—their hearts pounded in their chests, drumming with excitement.
It all felt like a dream.
Just a year ago, these same fans had gathered in this same bar for the NFL Draft. Back then, they were weary, skeptical, beaten down by disappointment. The Chiefs had become a good team—three playoff appearances in four years—but they couldn't seem to break through when it mattered.
They were stuck. Always falling short.
Another season? Probably more of the same.
They were frustrated. Worn out. Bitter. Angry in a numb, helpless way—like they were trapped in purgatory.
But now—
The screen on the wall was live. NBC's 360-degree Super Bowl coverage was on full display. And this year? The Chiefs were one of the stars of the show.
West turned and saw Anderson glance up at the screen mid-task. A smile crept across West's face.
"Can you believe this?" West asked.
Anderson gave a slow nod. "I can."
West blinked.
Anderson shrugged. "Remember? The rookie said, 'Trust me.' So I did. And I've never doubted him for a second since."
In West's mind, the memory of meeting Lance in this bar last year flickered to life.
West let out a small laugh. "I wasn't that confident. I doubted, I feared, I worried… But I'm glad I never gave up. And now look at us—we're going to the Super Bowl!"
Even just whispering those two syllables made his chest swell. Like shouting to the world:
"Woohoo!"
The Old Oak Tavern exploded in cheers. Faces shone with unfiltered happiness, glowing in the moment.
From playoff heartbreaks to three straight miracle wins, Kansas City's wildest, most romantic, most impossible dream had become real in a single season.
"Ha."
"Hahaha."
Even just imagining it made them smile.
So dreams could come true after all. So faith really could bloom.
West stood a little straighter. He believed in the Chiefs the way he believed in life itself—however painful, however bleak, he would endure and wait for the light to return.
"David," he said.
"I'm satisfied. No matter what happens today, I'm fulfilled. I'm not greedy—this is enough. Whatever the result, I'll stay with the team. I'll keep fighting."
The Super Bowl would end in one final result. Someone would win. But life didn't work like that.
The Chiefs might win or lose—but Kansas City's struggling economy wouldn't recover overnight. They would still be working-class folks grinding day by day. Fairytales didn't rewrite reality.
But now… they'd seen the silver lining. The spark of gold on the far side of the chasm.
West was ready.
A championship would be a reward.
A loss? Just the beginning of another journey.
Whatever happened, he wouldn't be discouraged. He wouldn't surrender. He would keep going. Keep striving. Rebuild his life with his own two hands.
He would never give up.
Anderson's grin widened. "Since we're here already, we might as well fight to the end. Let's see what kind of miracle we can still write."
"No confidence, but we will win—right?" West chuckled.
They exchanged a glance. And everything suddenly felt bright.
Knock knock.
Someone rapped on the bar. West looked up.
"Charles, where's Chris?"
"Haven't seen that guy. Don't tell me he's hiding in a corner crying. I've waited a full year just to see the look on his face—get ready, I'm going full roast mode."
Cheers exploded.
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Powerstones?
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