Bustling. Roaring.
The entire league was celebrating, cheering, and reveling in the chaos—
Even the neutral fans.
Finally!
The Super Bowl was finally getting fresh faces.
Finally, it wasn't the same old teams.
Finally, it wasn't the same recycled narratives.
Yes, there were no all-time legends.
Yes, there were no historic dynasties.
But let's not forget—the Super Bowl itself is the greatest stage for legends to be born.
Every year, the NFL crowns new icons.
And this year, the world was about to witness the rise of a brand-new superstar.
Not everyone was thrilled, though.
Jacksonville. EverBank Stadium.
Silent. Gutted.
The louder the celebrations outside, the heavier the sorrow inside.
The wilder the festivities, the bitterer the taste of defeat.
And that's when it hit—
This was the Jaguars' home.
Some fans remained out of respect, applauding the Jaguars for an incredible season.
Some fans clapped out of pure courtesy.
But most had already left, unwilling to stay in this place of heartbreak.
The higher the expectations, the harder the fall.
From Super Bowl favorites to a helpless, blowout elimination—
No one in Jacksonville would be sleeping tonight.
The stadium's empty seats only dulled the championship atmosphere.
But for the Chiefs?
None of that mattered.
A win is a win. A championship is a championship.
Not even the Chiefs themselves could have predicted this journey.
And now?
They were overcome with pure joy.
Just one year ago, the Chiefs—despite being the No. 2 seed—suffered a devastating Divisional Round loss to the Steelers.
The fans panicked.
The locker room was shaken.
Even Reid himself faced a trust crisis.
In the end, the team fired the general manager, hoping for a fresh start next season.
And now?
One year later, they rewrote history.
On the Field.
GM Veach immediately ran onto the field, standing next to Reid, giving the big-bellied, jolly coach a giant hug.
His face was lit with joy, unable to hide his excitement.
"Coach!"
But Reid didn't turn.
Veach followed his gaze—
And saw Lance, completely swarmed by teammates.
Offense, defense, even special teams.
Everyone was shoving, patting, laughing, shouting—
"Rookie!" "Rookie!"
They cheered. They danced.
Lance had only been in the league for a year, but he had grown into a leader.
A rookie?
Yes.
But no longer just a clueless kid.
He was reshaping the entire Chiefs franchise.
Who would've thought that the missing piece to their puzzle…
Was a running back?
Reid never looked away—but his smile deepened.
"That's the voice we needed."
Veach's own smile widened, nodding quickly.
"I know. I KNOW!"
His mind drifted back—
Back to that draft day afternoon.
Back to Reid, obsessively watching game tape, eyes sparkling with excitement—
Back to that moment when Reid turned to him and said—
"That kid is the future."
At the time?
Veach thought Reid had lost his damn mind.
But now?
Veach suddenly noticed something—
Someone, actually.
His expression shifted.
He was about to step forward, but—
Reid stopped him.
"Coach?"
"Don't worry. The rookie's got this."
Fournette. Watching. Waiting.
Fournette stood frozen, eyes locked on Lance.
He had struggled all night with one question—
Should he walk over and shake Lance's hand?
What should he even say to his rival?
One part of him still believed he was the best running back in football.
Forget Derrick Henry. Forget Lance. Forget McCaffrey.
But the cold truth was undeniable—
Lance had completely outperformed him.
Regular season. Playoffs. It wasn't even close.
He wanted to stand face-to-face with Lance and issue a challenge.
But his own pride and emotions had him glued to the spot.
Then—he noticed Ramsey.
The loudest, most relentless trash talker in the league.
Ramsey ran his mouth at everyone—teammates and enemies alike.
Even inside the Jaguars locker room, he was an unpredictable live wire.
Half the team hated him for constantly calling out Bortles.
Ramsey didn't care.
And now?
Ramsey was approaching Lance.
For a moment, Fournette froze in surprise.
Then, shockingly—
He got excited.
He just needed a chair and a bag of chips.
Was it normal to feel this way?!
Ramsey vs. Lance.
Lance turned—
And found Ramsey standing right in front of him.
Legs spread wide.
Chest puffed out.
Head slightly tilted.
His expression unreadable—
But his stance?
Full of swagger.
For a second, he looked like he was about to drop a rap verse.
Like Eminem in a freestyle battle.
"Drop a beat."
Ramsey crossed his arms, looking ready to spit bars.
Lance couldn't hold back.
"Where's your gold grill?"
Ramsey blinked.
Caught completely off guard.
"…I… don't… have a gold grill…"
His words came out choppy, hesitant—
Like a robot breaking down.
Lance's grin widened.
Ramsey still didn't get it, but he stood up straighter, cleared his throat, and—
Spoke with purpose.
"Jalen Ramsey. Number 20. Cornerback."
Out of nowhere—he introduced himself.
…Wait.
Wasn't the game already over?
Why was he introducing himself now?!
This time, it was Lance who looked confused.
But Ramsey kept going.
"I just didn't want you to forget my name when you start trash-talking in your post-game press conference."
"Go ahead. Say whatever you want. You earned this win."
"But."
"Next time we meet, I'll make damn sure you remember my name."
No Fear. No Regrets.
Lance looked at him differently now.
Respect.
After the game, in a media interview, Ramsey was asked—
Did he like his own style of trash-talking cornerbacks?
Ramsey: "No. Actually, I hate guys like Sherman. I hate guys like… myself."
Media: "…Wait, what?"
Sherman, mid-Twitter rant, paused—then nodded. "Okay. Carry on."
Ramsey continued—
"I respect guys like Revis. Silent. Focused. Just playing the game."
"Tonight, Revis proved why he's one of the best."
And then—
"I tried to mess with Lance. Like I did with AJ Green. But Lance?
He didn't even care.
I lost focus instead."
"I guess… that's his way of shutting me up."
Classic Ramsey.
Even in defeat, he still found a way to roast himself.
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Powerstones?
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