September 2, 2014
Dear Kansas City Chiefs,
We’re just a few short days from something monumental. Something that will change my 18-month-old daughter Molly’s life forever – football. Real Football. Not this pre-season monkey business where its all smiles and laughs on the sidelines, the press happy to cover what everyone ate for breakfast as the seconds tick off the game clock. I’m talking the real deal. NFL Football. And its up to you, the 53 men who’ve made the cut, the coaches, team doctors and stat nerds… its up to you whether this epic shift in my daughter’s life is one for the better… or worse.
Sure… she was alive for the tail end of the 2013-2014 season, but she was asleep. Lying, face pressed against my chest, drooling on my favorite Marcus Allen jersey. She unaware of the first great season KC fans have witnessed in almost a decade (until the last five games, that is). But now… She’s awake. She’s got her jersey, and she’s got her mini ball. And at 18 months, she’s ready for some football.
So… Alex Smith, we’ll start with you, and your 68 million dollar contract extension. Show Molly what it means to be a team leader. Show her that command, and pocket presence. Show her a unified team standing strong behind an elite quarterback who’s worth every penny.
Justin Houston & Tamba Hali… I want to have to explain what a sack is. I want her to see your hunger; your animalistic drive to get through that O-line.
Mike DeVito, Dontari Poe, Allen Bailey, Joe Mays and Derrick Johnson… I want to show my daughter that defensive cohesion, and how you read plays, annihilating them before they get started. I want to explain that football is a game of inches, and you guys will make every opponent fight for every… single… inch…
Jamaal Charles… I want her little mind to wonder, “Why do we even bother passing?”
Dwayne Bowe… I’d like to give her the definition of “circus catch.”
Eric Fisher, Mike McGlynn, Rodney Hudson, Zach Fulton… I want my daughter to appreciate the line and its single organism-like fluidity, just like I do. I want her to be amazed at the precision of the blocks and understand their importance, even though you’ll never get the glory.
To Eric Berry, Sean Smith, Marcus Cooper and Husain Abdullah… I want to explain that I think you have the hardest job in sports – mind reading.
To the underappreciated special teams… I want to show my daughter that even punting is an attack, and pinning an opponent behind their own five is just as important as a 20 yard break out run. I want her to know that “settling for three” is three more than the team had before the drive began – and plenty of games are won by threes.
Coach Andy Reid… My daughter will be watching. I’ll be explaining the rules, the plays, the strategy… and I want to point at you on screen and say, “That man… that one there.”
And I want to be able to show Molly good sportsmanship after a victory – and a lot of them.
So here’s what I’m asking of you, brave gridiron gladiators… Show my daughter why, in Kansas City, we stand up and cheer. Why we show up to Arrowhead 8 hours before the game to tailgate in subzero weather. Show her what it means to wear the red and gold, and get goose bumps when the national anthem ends with the booming, “home of the CHIEFS!”
It’s time to create a father daughter tradition. It’s time for KC Chiefs Football.
So, PLEASE don’t disappoint her. Don’t let her experience the crushing agony of a losing season. She’s only 18 months old. Give her a chance to love you.
In just a few short days… my daughter will be watching – a blank pallet ready to be molded into a KC Fan. Molly will be ready. Will you?