My father was 22 years old back when the Chiefs won Superbowl IV. He is a hillbilly who grew up in Exeter, MO. He was working in sales for an oil company and didn't see the game because he was flying from Houston to Minneapolis. My dad has never met a stranger and the people around him were giving him shit about the Chiefs on the flight. Once they landed and saw the score, he got to gloat a little a bit but he was alone.
I was born in 1981. My sister was born in 1969. Today, she'll tell you she's always loved the Chiefs, but don't believe her, she never watched football. Once I was able to understand what was happening in the game, I loved football. I wanted to be Derrick Thomas (I'm more of a Dan Saleamua nowadays). By now, Dad was home on the weekends and we watched the only game they showed each weekend in southwest Missouri together. We watched Joe Montana get a concussion in the AFC championship game, Lin Elliot miss all those field goals and a few losses in the Wild Card round together. They all hurt. I dreamed the Chiefs would win the Superbowl someday but, deep down, I never really believed it would happen. Martyball crushed my soul.
Fast forward through the 2000s when the Chiefs were bad, I was in college and grad school and met my wife. She talked me into finally moving away from southwest Missouri to St. Louis. My dad, stepmom, nephew and I text through the games.
My dad had a small stroke in early September 2019. Scared the shit out of me. I came down to see him as soon as I could and he seemed totally fine physically and cognitively. On Halloween, he had a big stroke and almost died. He spent a month in the hospital. It was cerebellar and affected his right side (lucky sunnovabitch is left handed, a curse he passed to me). Fortunately, cognitively he is fine. Unfortunately, he couldn't walk, uncross his eyes or swallow. He has worked his 72 year old ass off in PT/OT and can now walk pretty well with a walker and eat solid foods. He just got prism glasses and they have helped him see normally. Through all of this, the only thing he talks about is Patrick Mahomes and how much he hates Breeland for getting a few PIs early in the season. I can tell this near death experience scared the shit out of him.
I drove down and went with him and my stepmother to his friend's annual Superbowl party. Lot of ups and down in the game, but I had resigned myself to losing halfway through the 4th but I was glad I got to see it with my dad. And then the Chiefs won.
I won't pretend to understand why some of us die young and some of us live way past our expiration dates. All I can say is how grateful I am that I was able to experience this moment with my father. I don't know what else to say. This was one of the best moments in my life. Im happy for Regime, Mrs. Gravy and all the other Chiefs bros here.
I'm looking forward to the Chiefs running it back next year.
