"Hey, need a hand?"
A voice came from straight ahead. West instinctively looked up. In the dim streetlight, he saw an unexpected figure waving at him. Stunned, he lost his footing, and the trash bin in his hands nearly went flying.
Disaster!
But it was narrowly avoided—
A figure stepped forward quickly, grabbing the bin with both hands to help West regain his balance. Crisis averted, just a false alarm.
West exhaled deeply, his heart still pounding. His first reaction was to glance at the person who helped him.
"Thanks. Sorry, I mean, this shouldn't have happened, but thanks for helping. Oh, damn it, Coach Clark?!"
With a curse and a startled cry, West recognized him.
Lance, surprised, said, "I was just about to introduce you two. Wait—you know each other?"
West shook his head rapidly. "No, I mean, yes—no, what am I even saying?! I mean, I know him, but he probably doesn't know me."
"With all the offseason changes, how could we fans not keep up?"
"Oh shoot, I need to head back in and get the guys to stop trash-talking the coaching staff. You know, one of the greatest pleasures for fans is sitting in a bar, pretending we're the real experts."
A bit of playful sarcasm, and even Clark let out a rare laugh.
Then—
West's expression turned serious. "Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. Charles West, a fool who thinks he knows more about the Chiefs than Coach Reid. Welcome to Kansas City."
Clark, still slightly nervous, relaxed in the face of West's openness, feeling a budding excitement.
He glanced at Lance and now understood why Lance said this was the place he often came to unwind. Then he turned to West. "Ronnie Clark. Just a... fan."
Clark didn't have much of a sense of humor, and though he tried to match the tone with a joke, the delivery was flat and awkward—even he felt a little embarrassed.
But West didn't mind at all and smiled warmly. "Then you're in the right place. A Chief always recognizes another Chief. You should come in—the guys will give you a proper welcome. First drink's on me…"
He paused, leaning in like he was about to share a state secret.
"Because we beat the Steelers!"
"Oh yeah!"
That face, brimming with joy and warmth—no words were needed to feel the happiness.
Clark, caught in the moment, finally cracked a smile.
West put down the trash bin, turned, and pushed open the bar door, shouting inside.
"Guys—"
"Guys!"
"Ronnie Clark is here!"
Clark: ?!?!
He was just an assistant coach—a rookie one at that. He constantly worried he wasn't qualified, fearing he'd drag Coach Burns and Lance down. And now... he was being cheered in a bar like a hero?
He was baffled. "Who am I, where am I, what am I doing?" His eyes turned to Lance for help.
Lance patted his shoulder with a reassuring smile and gently nudged him forward. Clark stumbled toward the bar entrance.
The next second—
Roars erupted.
"Ronnie!"
"Ronnie!"
"Ronnie!"
A wave of cheers swallowed Clark. He looked around, stunned, like Alice falling into Wonderland—hesitant, overwhelmed, but taking one step after another.
The bar door closed behind him.
West turned to Lance and grinned. "It's a little crazy tonight."
Lance: "A little?"
West burst out laughing. "Okay, fine, the guys have completely lost it."
"Even David. God, you should've seen David's face when the game ended—it deserves to be in the Louvre. We really need to frame it."
Though Lance hadn't seen it firsthand, judging from West's expression, he could imagine the usually composed Anderson completely losing it. A smile tugged at Lance's lips.
West took a deep breath and looked at Lance.
"Rookie, did I ever thank you?"
Before Lance could answer, West continued:
"That's not important. Whether I've said it before or not, I need to say it again—thank you. Thank you for choosing to come to Kansas City."
A simple, honest sentence pressed heavily on Lance's chest.
He tried to joke. "I don't think I really had a choice."
Indeed, while rare, there were cases where rookies refused to sign with the team that drafted them—most famously, Eli Manning.
Back then, Manning made it clear he didn't want to go to the San Diego Chargers, who had the first overall pick. Despite his protests, they picked him anyway. The image of Manning accepting the Chargers' jersey with a grim, tortured expression became legendary.
Speculation swirled around whether he'd refuse to sign, threatening the biggest draft fiasco in NFL history.
Fortunately, a deal was struck: the New York Giants picked Philip Rivers and traded him for Manning. Everyone got what they wanted.
"Hahaha." West chuckled. "You could've pulled an Eli."
Lance, once clueless about football, now knew these classic stories—especially after last year's drama between Manning and the Giants, which brought those old memories back into the spotlight.
And ironically, the Manning-Giants saga later took another twist.
What looked like a bitter divorce turned into reconciliation, with both sides moving forward together. It shocked everyone in the league.
West sighed, "Didn't expect it to end like that."
Lance stayed calm. "It's still not over. This year's a long way from done."
West blinked, then laughed. "True. If someone had told me a year ago we'd be entering this season as defending champs and beating Pittsburgh in the opener, I'd have sent them to a shrink."
Laughter rumbled in his chest—
That was why West felt so strongly: they owed Lance a thank-you. Everything began with his arrival.
A rookie, now a hero of Kansas City.
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Powerstones?
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