Sacred words in your Arrowhead Adventurer’s vocabulary. Sacred words in the hearts of all true Kansas City Chiefs fans.
I’ve been all over this beautiful country.
I have seen the redwood forests of California, the Rocky Mountains, and the deserts of the Southwest.
I have seen the beautiful crystal clear waters of the Gulf and the gorgeous angry waves of both the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans.
I have gazed at the flickering lights of San Fransisco at night, from the shore of Alcatraz.
And I have sat in my seat in the lower level of Arrowhead Stadium. To me, there is no better place on earth to be.
Sometimes when I’m stressed, or in between that dream and awake state right before I fall asleep, or when I realize I don’t have any plans as I lay in bed at 7 a.m. Saturday morning, I try to imagine I’m with her.
If I am depressed , I imagine I’m at one of the indescribable Monday Night football games in which we fight our never-ending battles with the Chargers.
If I’m in stressed, I imagine I’m all by myself, sitting in my little seat on the second row of the lower level during the offseason, basking in the warm rays of a beautiful, crystal clear March day. Alone. Alone in her quiet, peaceful tranquility.
I’m not old enough to remember when Kansas City didn’t have her.
I can’t imagine a day when she won’t have her any more.
But, Addicts, that day will surely come.
You can look at every picture ever taken of Arrowhead. You can read every description ever posted about her.
But only those who have entered through those majestic gates can tell you what it sounded like when Dexter McCluster scored his first NFL touchdown on a 94 yard punt return on Sept. 13, 2010 against the Chargers.
I know what it sounded like. 80,000 others do too.
But someday Arrowhead will be gone.
What will we remember about her when she is gone? What secrets do we know that only those who made the trek through her gates can truly know.
The list is endless.
I can tell you that when you sit in the very last seat in the upper corner, you feel like you are on top of the world.
I can tell you that when you sit in the corner seat on the lower level, you feel like you’re on another planet.
From the my seat in the lower level of the greatest NFL stadium in the world, I can tell the exact instant when a player meets my gaze, even when I cannot make out his face. And I can tell you what it’s like to see pure, unbridled joy in the face of a Kansas City Chiefs cheerleader.
When I see my little brick at Arrowhead with my name on it, I can look up and there will be Lamar Hunt looking down at me. He always says the same thing when our eyes meet. He says “Look what I did for Kansas City.”
If you stand there, Lamar will tell you something special, too.
I know what it’s like to be a broke college senior riding through the gates of Arrowhead in the back of a pickup, with no money, and one upper level corner ticket, but with the peaceful, secure knowledge that the kindness of 80,000 strangers will provide me with all the wings and beer I can eat on that cold December day.
I have peeked for hours under the August, preseason shade of a college buddy’s 4×4, watching long, giggling, never-ending college girls legs flow by on their way to my beloved Arrowhead.
Only those who have been there will know the sad, empty feeling of the walk to the parking lot after a season ending loss.
And the incredible feeling of optimism as you chant with thousands through the tunnel after a season opening win.
Arrowhead Stadium. Thankfully, I’ll never know what it was like when she wasn’t in Kansas City.
Sadly, someday I’ll likely know what it’s like when she is gone.
If you have never been to Arrowhead go. If you have been to Arrowhead go back.
Addicts, what will you say about Arrowhead when she is gone?