Reflections of being a Chiefs fan on the verge of Super Bowl LIV

Knowing the Chiefs are minutes away from the Vince Lombardi trophy is exhilarating but also nerve-wracking. But that anxiety is the cost of fandom.

I’ve noticed something strange ever since the Kansas City Chiefs clinched a Super Bowl Berth. I’ll be walking to class, or working out, or driving along, and, out of nowhere, I’ll hear the great Mitch Holthus‘s voice, bellowing something along the lines of, “Mahomes drops back, fakes left, makes a man miss. He’s got Hill. Hill in the open field and he’s gone! Touchdown, KANSAS CITY!”

Something tells me I’m not the only one who’s been plagued by visions of what a Chiefs Super Bowl victory will look like. I picture Andy Reid getting his much-deserved, long overdue Gatorade shower. I picture Tyreek Hill jumping on Travis Kelce‘s back for a victory piggyback. I picture Clark Hunt tearing up in the box, knowing he has cemented his father’s legacy, finally seeing the greatest fans in sports see their team reach football immortality. I see Patrick Mahomes accepting the Super Bowl MVP, affirming what Chiefs fans and sports fans everywhere know: Mahomes is the best football player on Earth. I see decades of long-suffering, jubilant, passionate with a capital P fans enjoying the elixir of a victory that will stand across time.

Yet the speculation of glory and the emotional investment in this team’s journey comes with a lot of stress. As fans, we want this more than anything, but there isn’t anything we can contribute during perhaps the biggest 60 minutes in Chiefs history. A few days ago, I thought to myself, “Man, I wish I could be in the game, I wish I could help the Chiefs win.” Now, this thinking is delusional; if I were to play in the Super Bowl, I would harm the Chiefs chances of winning. I would miss every tackle, blow every assignment. But I think the sentiment of wanting to add value, or somehow aid this team’s chances, is a commonplace one.

We are part of the team, in a very important sense. We have willed this team along, invested so much of our enthusiasm and spirit in their success. To think that we aren’t part of the 2019 Chiefs is shortsighted. We went through the terror of Mahomes’ knee dislocation, a point in the season where it seemed like the 2019 Chiefs would fold. We have witnessed two straight heart-tugging playoff comebacks. This is the cost of fandom. We invest so much of what we have in something we cannot control. Each game, and this game in particular, we open ourselves to the possibility of disappointment.

The low-grade anxiety we’ve felt for the past two weeks is more than anything an indicator of how much the Chiefs mean to us. There isn’t a fan in all of Chiefs Kingdom who isn’t, on some level, terrified of Sunday’s game. But, just like the players who are facing elevated stakes trying to play perfect football in pursuit of history, the elevated anxiety that reverberates across Chiefs kingdom shows how much we have invested in this team. The thought that a 60-minute game will mean the difference between enshrinement and disappointment is a scary one, but all it means is that we give a damn.

The Chiefs are more than Mahomes’ electric arm, Reid’s lovable personality, or Tyrann Matthieu’s commanding presence. The Chiefs mean more than a collection of highlights, no-look passes, and track-speed touchdowns. When we tune in to Super Bowl 54, we aren’t merely watching football players play a game. Tomorrow’s opening kickoff will signal a family gathering, one connected by TV’s across the globe. The fear of being powerless about the result of the game is just the cost of caring.

Let’s go win a Super Bowl