Everybody has a story. For many, becoming a sports fan has to do more with geography than anything else. With the Kansas City Chiefs, a vast majority of fans were born in Kansas or Missouri and were the regional draw. Then there are the outsiders who found the team they love through happenstance.
My story is a little odd, but then again that is what makes it interesting. My dad grew up in northern New Jersey but didn’t have a rooting interest in the late 1960s. When the Minnesota Vikings met the Chiefs as heavy favorites in Super Bowl, most of the school kids were rolling with the established NFL. My old man decided to go rogue and pick Kansas City to pull the upset. He knew nothing of professional football but needed to see if he would get razzed at school the following day.
Of course, the Chiefs won 23-7 and they earned a fan for life. In 1988, I was born in New York, and I was indoctrinated into Chiefs Kingdom. The first game I remember was the 1993 Wild Card game when Keith Cash blocked a punt and Joe Montana led a clutch two-minute drive to defeat the Pittsburgh Steelers. I’ve been hooked ever since.
Kids these days will never understand the kind of dedication it took to be a fan of an out-of-market team back in the 1990s. I lived for Chris Berman and Tom Jackson to show the Chiefs on NFL Primetime, and watched the Jets and Giants’ games simply waiting to see the ticker pop up every half hour. I wouldn’t change anything, though.
I loved the NFL on NBC music back then. I’m a nerd, so I still listen to it on YouTube probably once or twice a month. What’s that? You want to hear it again, too? Sure thing.
Damnit, show me some hustle, September!