"Hey, I don't mind if you call me a rookie."
With just one sentence, Lance once again sent U.S. Bank Stadium into a frenzy.
Not just Chiefs fans—even many Eagles fans and neutral spectators laughed along.
At this moment, looking back, the nickname "rookie" had a whole new flavor.
The rookie who once knew nothing about football, who didn't even know who Brady was, had now led his team to a Super Bowl victory and was crowned MVP.
And so, Lance embraced the nickname without hesitation, with openness and pride.
The host caught the playful tone in Lance's words and smiled broadly, "Really? Even now, you still don't mind being called a rookie?"
He gestured at Lance—
Draped in the freshly minted Kansas City Chiefs Super Bowl Champions jersey, wearing the Champions hat, cradling the Vince Lombardi Trophy.
Lance shrugged lightly, full of calm, "Hey, I'm still in my first year."
At least literally, he was still a rookie.
Haha, hahahaha!
The stadium erupted with laughter.
The host's grin widened completely, "Then tell us—how do you feel now? The rookie standing atop the Super Bowl?"
"Well, somebody has to win. Why not us?" Lance tilted his head with a mischievous twinkle.
Ahhhhh!
Woohooo!
More laughter, more cheers—the U.S. Bank Stadium boiled over into a party rather than a stiff awards ceremony.
The host couldn't help but laugh out loud, hands waving as he apologized, "My bad, my bad! Let me rephrase—after such a breathtaking, heart-stopping battle, holding the Lombardi Trophy now, how does it feel?"
Lance opened his mouth to answer—but paused.
He inhaled deeply, steadying his emotions before smiling again.
"This has been a season full of hardships and challenges."
"Not just for us. For Kansas City, too. No one believed we'd make it this far—not even us, not at every moment."
"So, yeah—we didn't have confidence. That's a fact. It wasn't modesty. It wasn't a smokescreen."
"But what we had was belief. We kept fighting. We kept grinding. We kept holding on."
"Over and over, we stood on the edge of elimination. Victory or defeat could've swung either way. Any second could've ended our season. But we never gave up. We fought until the clock hit zero."
"If the game isn't over, then nothing is over."
"That's who we are. That's the Chiefs. That's Kansas City."
From the miracle comeback against the Steelers in Week 6, to the six-game losing streak that almost sunk their season, from the heart-stopping win over the Titans to the Hail Mary against the Patriots, the young Chiefs had stumbled, fallen, risen, and clawed their way forward.
Tonight's Super Bowl had been no different:
Intense, grueling, seesawing until the very last second.
It had seemed the Eagles already had one hand on the Lombardi Trophy—
And yet.
This Chiefs team rewrote the ending.
Once.
Then again.
And again.
It was precisely this journey that made this moment so grand, so electrifying.
The stadium fell silent, only Lance's voice echoing, but every heart burned hotter and hotter.
"We didn't have confidence, but we had faith."
"We believed we could beat the odds.
We believed there was a sliver of light at the end of the endless darkness.
We believed that wherever we were, we Chiefs would always stick together and fight side by side."
"When we stood on the field, facing oblivion—
We were never alone."
"And so—we would win."
His gaze swept across the crowd.
He saw Smith.
He saw Berry.
He saw Revis.
And beyond them, an ocean of surging red,
And beyond the stadium, countless sparks igniting into a wildfire across the world.
At last, Provost understood what Lance had meant:
No confidence. But we will win.
It wasn't about arrogance.
It was about an unbreakable belief.
Provost remembered when he first saw Lance at the Old Oak Tavern—
That thin, seemingly fragile figure, yet standing tall and unyielding with iron in his bones.
The story had started there.
Maybe Lance was the hero to lead Kansas City out of its endless dark age.
Or maybe he wasn't.
It didn't matter.
What mattered was that Lance had rekindled their hope.
He had made them believe again.
Believe in dreams.
Believe in light.
Believe that life still held infinite possibilities.
Kansas City had waited far, far too long for this day.
Provost thought of West, Anderson, and all the friends back at the Old Oak Tavern—
Every one of them fighting their own battles, wrestling their own demons,
Finding their only moments of peace in the Chiefs and the Tavern.
Tonight, he was sure—
They were all watching too.
Straightening his shoulders, chest swelling with heat and life, Provost felt something burn anew inside him.
"We are the Chiefs.
We don't surrender.
We don't compromise.
We don't give up.
No matter the hardship, no matter the darkness—
We fight to the end."
"And so—"
Lance raised the Vince Lombardi Trophy high into the air again.
In that instant, Anderson, watching from the Old Oak Tavern, couldn't hold back anymore.
Rarely had he lost control like this—
But now, his roar tore the silence apart:
"CHAMPIONS!"
Every head at the Tavern turned toward him in shock and wonder—
But they didn't have time to think.
The storm swallowed them too.
Anderson wasn't alone.
At U.S. Bank Stadium, Chiefs fans screamed until their voices broke, answering Lance's call with all their might.
"CHAMPIONS!"
The wave rolled outward—across the field, the city, the continent.
Not just Chiefs fans—
Every football fan who loved the game, who lived and died with the sport—
They all felt the madness and joy explode from their hearts.
One roar after another.
One wave after another.
Like a tsunami.
"CHAMPIONS!"
"WE ARE THE CHAMPIONS!"
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Powerstones?
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