Encirclement, attacks, relentless questioning.
The endless barrage from reporters was, in truth, a kind of mockery—teasing and taunting—because they knew that players and coaches could only condemn Hunt, but could never openly criticize team management.
These questions weren't about getting an answer. They were a kind of performance art, where silence and awkwardness became the best answers of all.
A top-down unease and avoidance created invisible pressure.
And yet…
No one expected the reporters would actually get an answer.
And from one of the Kansas City Chiefs' core figures, no less.
Wait—had Lance lost his mind?
Lance had openly said the team made a mistake—an error in judgment, an error in choice?
Was he saying that the Chiefs' casual, dismissive attitude toward the Hunt incident back in February was wrong?
So was this aimed at Veach? At team owner Clark Hunt? Or was he condemning the team for pushing president Donovan and Hunt himself forward as scapegoats?
One sentence, and it was like a stone dropped into still water, sending shockwaves rippling outward.
So short, yet so unexpected, so shocking—so direct and sharp—that the reporters were practically giddy, ready to pass out from excitement.
They didn't know what had gotten into Lance, but such moments of "madness" were pure gold to them. They welcomed it with open arms.
But Lance, at the center of it all, was perfectly calm.
"Mistakes are mistakes," he said.
"But more important than the mistakes of the past is how we face the response and resolution afterward. We can't turn back time, but we can control the present and shape the future."
"Admitting mistakes—bravely and openly—is not just about showing apology or regret. We have to face the problem and prevent it from happening again."
"So yes, we could sit here pointing fingers and debating whose fault it was… or we could sit here and have a real conversation about how to stop the same mistakes from happening again."
"Players. Teams. The league. We are all indispensable parts of this. And the media—you play an important role too."
"So… anyone willing to have that conversation with me?"
He finished with an easy smile—
Calm. Honest. Sincere. Professional.
That was the real killer move.
The earlier jokes, the sharp remarks, the sudden directness—they were just setup. And just when the reporters thought Lance had gone rogue and was attacking management, ready to sit back and enjoy the show, the story flipped. Suddenly, they were the ones in the crosshairs.
As Lance said, the real importance wasn't in a simple apology—it was in the discussion sparked by the incident and the attention now focused on player violence in the league.
And just as he said, beyond the players, teams, and league, the media—who had long fueled the flames and enjoyed the spectacle—couldn't just wash their hands of responsibility either.
It was a serious, deep-rooted problem. One player or one team couldn't change the whole picture. And if the reporters kept clinging to the Chiefs as the sole target, then they were willfully ignoring the larger issue, stirring up trouble for trouble's sake.
Instead of acting like gossip hounds trying to manufacture drama, why not awaken a sense of journalistic duty and social responsibility—and actually work together to find ways to fix or reduce the problem?
That was the point.
In just a few sentences, Lance solved a thorny problem—
He didn't excuse the Chiefs, yet he still shifted the focus. He didn't defend them, yet he built a positive image.
And he pulled the media right into it, subtly mocking their endless badgering.
Multiple wins in one stroke.
Brilliant.
The room went silent.
The smiles of the spectators froze in place.
Finally, the endless questioning came to an end. No more reporters followed up. And that wasn't all—
The coaching staff and management looked at Lance with renewed respect. It wasn't just that he'd cleverly defused a crisis—it was that, in a moment of team hardship, he'd shown leadership and steadied the ship.
Fans had their backbone again.
For the last three or four days, the Chiefs had been treated like a public enemy online. Because of Hunt. Because of the team's perceived indifference. Because of grudges built up over the last two seasons. Every kind of insult imaginable had been thrown at them.
Wild conspiracy theories were flying everywhere—
Was the timing of TMZ's report orchestrated?
Who exactly was behind covering up the incident back in February?
Did the league deliberately sacrifice Hunt, a vocal supporter of Bell, to quiet the running back controversy?
The more people speculated, the wilder it got.
Fans fought back as best they could, but their arguments lacked conviction—they themselves hadn't approved of the team's handling of things. The city's morale had sunk into a haze.
Until now.
Lance's words, and his stance, shone like a lighthouse.
The controversy wouldn't just vanish. The bias wouldn't just fade away. But at least they could focus on themselves again.
And let their actions speak.
Kansas City had its spark back. The gloom began to lift, and amid the tidal wave of negativity online, they found their footing again—
Both feet back on the ground.
That's the power of a leader.
It wasn't the first or second time Lance had stepped up. But this time—amid the storm—his posture and conviction brought the team and the city together.
The Chiefs' season, which looked smooth on the surface, had always carried hidden bumps. Even with a playoff berth secured three weeks early, relentless rivals kept the race tense. Now, losing their #2 running back just before facing the Los Angeles Chargers left almost no time to adjust—everything was tight and chaotic.
Still, Lance gave the team a center to hold onto, pushing the reporters back and getting everyone focused on the game again.
"Rookie, how do you do it? How do you stay completely unaffected by the negative press?"
When the Chiefs arrived at Los Angeles' StubHub Center to get used to the field, a large crowd of Chiefs fans had gathered to support them. Someone in the crowd asked the question.
Lance shrugged lightly.
"I uninstalled every social media app. Works great for the team—you should try it too. The whole world goes quiet."
Then he flashed a perfect, bright smile and walked into the stadium with Mahomes and Kelce, chatting and laughing.
At last, the focus could return to the field.
And the Los Angeles Chargers… would be a tough problem.
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Powerstones?
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