Revis decided to retire.
He finally chose to set aside his pride and ego. He finally chose to stop fighting with the league, with teams, and with fans. He finally chose to stop trying to prove himself—he made peace with himself and turned to leave, bidding farewell to the field.
It wasn't because there was no place for him on the Kansas City Chiefs. It was because he had found peace.
This postseason journey—this battle—he had given it his all. There was nothing left to give. His body had begun to protest, and his spirit was worn down. It was time to stop running.
That's what Revis told himself.
Originally, Revis had imagined his retirement would be grand—a bang, a storm. But reality was different. On a calm afternoon, under a warm sun and a gentle breeze, he made the decision, quietly.
Perhaps his only regret was that he had no one to share it with.
Several names came to mind. After years in the league, it was impossible to have no friends—but all those relationships had remained distant. After a moment of hesitation, he couldn't bring himself to dial any of those numbers.
Instead, he thought of Lance.
That young man with bright eyes and unwavering will, who stood by him at his lowest, when everyone else saw him as a mercenary. Together, they fought, ran, and burned every last bit of their energy to cross the finish line side by side.
Lance's voice came through the phone—and Revis froze.
What should he say?
Were they even friends?
"Heh."
Revis let out a small laugh.
"Forget a third time—honestly, after the Jets cut me the second time, I should've retired. But my pride wouldn't let me."
Once he started, the words came naturally—far easier than expected.
"This is a brutal game. It has its rules and lines. We throw our whole selves into it, squeezing into tight uniforms, pretending to be superheroes. We give everything, only to be tossed aside once we've been drained dry."
"When we're on that field, we think we're kings—commanding the winds, ruling the world."
"Young, tough, rich, handsome—girls throwing themselves at us. We think we're invincible, that we can do anything if we just put our minds to it."
"Then one day, we realize—that's not true."
"We're just tools. We leave everything on that field and walk away with nothing but injuries and a string of meaningless stats. One reckless night in Vegas, and it all comes crashing down."
Anger. Bitterness. Regret. Sorrow. Sadness.
Maybe a bit of everything. The complexity of Revis's emotions was hard to describe. Lance was caught off guard.
But he didn't interrupt.
Only when Revis paused did Lance quip, "Sounds a bit like Captain America."
Not Superman—Captain America.
Revis blinked, then burst into laughter. "Yeah. Like that damn Captain America."
The mood lightened slightly.
"But I don't regret coming to Kansas City."
"Everyone calls me a mercenary—I used to think the same. But…"
Revis choked. He had to take a deep breath.
"But, rookie, you proved I'm not. I gave everything on that field. No holding back. And I found that joy I felt back in high school—not for the money, just for the love of the game. Because I could. So I ran. I fought."
"Ending it all with a ring—I can't think of a better ending."
Lance sighed softly.
He had sensed something off about Revis today, but even so, the truth still hit harder than expected.
They had only been teammates for two months. Revis wasn't his friend—but he was a comrade. From strangers to battle-worn brothers, they had fought through highs and lows. The Chiefs' Super Bowl victory owed much to this veteran's clutch performances.
If there had been another season, the Chiefs' thin cornerback group would've needed Revis. Even with his declining physical ability, his experience could have nourished young talents.
But the farewell had come.
It was the first time Lance had witnessed a close teammate retire.
More departures followed—corners, linebackers—all leaving the roster.
Among them, the most poignant was linebacker Derrick Johnson. Drafted in 2005, he had spent twelve years with the Chiefs—longer than even Berry. He thought he'd retire in Kansas City. He was released instead.
Farewells, reunions, new beginnings—that's what the offseason is made of.
Retirement too.
But experiencing it firsthand always left a trace of bitterness.
"Darrelle?" Lance asked.
Revis chuckled. "You figured it out? Yeah, you're smart like that. If you didn't, it'd mean I've lost my touch—or that the girls have stolen your brain this offseason."
Lance twitched his lips but couldn't muster a smile.
Revis became serious. "Yeah. I've decided to retire."
Silence.
Mahomes appeared. "Rookie, I'm ready. Are you packed?"
Lance signaled him to wait. "Are you sure, Darrelle?"
Revis teased, "You trying to convince me to stay?"
Lance nodded. "Yeah."
The bluntness caught Revis off guard.
His nose stung.
Maybe he didn't have friends—but he had found a teammate. One who respected and supported him. That was enough.
He joked, "The team can't afford my salary."
Lance shrugged. "Then that's a shame. Truly unfortunate."
"Ha! Hahaha!" Revis laughed freely, from the heart.
He thought he had so much left to say. But now, he realized—he was at peace.
Finally, lighthearted.
"Thanks, Lance. And… goodbye." Revis kept it brief. No more small talk.
Lance took a deep breath. "Hope to see you again—maybe not on the field, but somewhere."
Revis paused. But didn't respond. He hung up.
Putting away the phone, Revis gazed into the distance. His focus drifted.
He thought—being a Chiefs fan might not be so bad.
Mahomes noticed the shift in the air and remained silent. When Lance hung up, he gave him a look.
Lance thought for a second. "Revis is retiring."
Mahomes froze—more than just surprised.
The next day, Revis made it official, submitting his retirement to the league, sending ripples across the NFL.
At the same time, Lance, Mahomes, and Kelce returned to Kansas City.
Voluntary training camp was about to begin.
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Powerstones?
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