It has been said that in this world, there is a constant, age old struggle. The struggle is between good and evil. And as we were reminded last week, good does not always win that battle.
And so it goes.
So my crew didn’t really know what to expect as we loaded our Kansas City Chiefs-themed limobus and headed north to the greatest NFL stadium in the world last Sunday. Tired from too much work, too much studying, and too much bad news, we rose at 4:30 am to start the three hour drive to see two of the worst NFL teams this season play the day after one of the most unimaginably horrible events in Kansas City Chiefs history took place.
We didn’t know what to expect. We didn’t know what would happen. But one thing we did know. Our fellow Kansas City Chiefs fans and even the team itself needed us that day. And we needed them. Nothing was going to keep us away.
As we set up our little camp at Arrowhead one thing was noticeably different. It was quiet. A peaceful quiet.
And unseasonably warm.
As I sat in my chair smelling the bacon cooking on our grill, the warm wind in my face, I felt a calm sadness I do not remember feeling in my travels to see the Chiefs.
We get mad. We get frustrated. We get loud. But we don’t give up.
Bad break after bad break. Mistake after mistake. Bad season after bad season. And even the day after one of the darkest days to blanket Kansas City, we came.
The eggs, bacon, biscuits and gravy and hash brown potatoes were the best I can ever remember eating.
The December weather was the best I can ever remember in Kansas City so late in the year.
If I stood on my chair and my toes, I could just see in my favorite place to be in the world.
So relaxing was that morning that we couldn’t get ourselves our of our chairs until the beginning of the second quarter. But we knew the time would eventually come for us to make the trek inside.
And we were not sorry we did.
We were surrounded by our old friends instead of the rowdy drunks that had pirated our section in games past this season.
The Kansas City Chiefs played well and we won.
Of course we didn’t feel exhilaration we normally felt after the win. That takes some time to get that back after you experience horror.
But back it shall come. It always does and always will.
Horror won the battle Saturday. But we were all reminded Sunday by the best, most loyal, most caring NFL fans and players in the world, that good always wins the war.