Standing in the player tunnel, you could still clearly feel the rolling heat waves of the entire stadium.
The excited chatter, the wild hand gestures, the explosive energy silently permeated the air, turning the whole city of Minneapolis into a giant playground.
Everyone had returned to childhood—pure, simple, and blissfully happy.
Stephen Curry wasn't unfamiliar with this.
The vivid memory of the Warriors winning their second NBA championship last season was still fresh.
He had thought winning a second title would feel calmer—
But no, joy and happiness still shattered reason.
Yet Curry was still a bit surprised—
Last season, they had clinched the title at home, naturally leading to crazy celebrations.
But tonight?
This was a neutral site.
Technically, things should be a bit more restrained.
Instead, the chaos was even greater.
The sheer scale and fever of the Super Bowl at U.S. Bank Stadium, with over 100,000 people, completely blew away anything he'd seen at Oracle Arena.
The roaring heat felt like it might just devour him whole.
Curry felt a small hand squeezing his own tightly—
Tiny, sweaty palms trembling with nervous energy.
He looked down at the little guy next to him.
"Feeling nervous?"
Ian Cole swallowed hard, staring blankly up at him.
No words were needed. The answer was obvious.
Curry chuckled, "Ian, I thought I was your favorite player?"
Cole—the young fan who had almost been injured at Madison Square Garden not long ago.
Thanks to Lance's quick action, disaster was averted.
And to comfort the boy, Lance had personally invited him to the Super Bowl.
Lance kept his promise.
Tonight, Curry brought Ian to U.S. Bank Stadium.
Even Curry, who'd witnessed countless wild games, was blown away by the intensity of tonight's battle.
What about a kid who had never even been to a football stadium before?
Right now, Ian's little brain was probably total mush.
Standing in the tunnel waiting for Lance after the awards ceremony, Ian was visibly nervous, his whole body stiff.
Facing Curry's teasing, Ian blinked hard.
"I like you... and... gulp... I like Lance too."
Curry laughed, "So who do you like more?"
Ian hesitated, fidgeting.
Luckily, a savior appeared.
"Laying it on thick with a little kid, Stephen? Come on, you're gonna traumatize him!"
Lance's bright, sunshine-like smile appeared at the end of the tunnel.
Curry was about to retort, but Ian had already broken free—
Like a little homing missile, he bolted straight into Lance's arms.
He had planned to hug Lance's legs,
But Lance bent down just in time, scooping the boy into a full embrace.
"You remembered my name! You really remembered!" Ian exclaimed.
Curry threw up his hands helplessly—clearly, the verdict was in.
Kids were heartless little traitors.
Lance laughed warmly, "Of course, Ian Cole. You're tonight's VIP. I invited you personally. How could I forget?"
The little guy nearly floated into the sky with excitement.
"I... I cheered for you! When you... when you threw that pass! I even prayed with my hands together!
Mom said... you gotta be sincere when you pray!"
Stammered, choppy, but full of heart.
Lance understood instantly.
"I felt it, buddy. That's why we won. Because I wasn't fighting alone."
Ian's eyes shone.
"Ah, Ian!"
Patrick Mahomes' voice boomed nearby.
Ian shrank a little in Lance's arms, nervous again.
Mahomes crouched beside them.
"Hey, Ian. I'm Patrick. I'm Lance's teammate."
Ian peeked out.
"You... you know me?"
Mahomes laughed.
"Of course! Who doesn't know you?"
He winked at Lance.
"This guy's everyone's hero. Everything he does is all over the internet. I know about what happened at the Garden, and I know he invited you here."
Indeed—after the incident at Madison Square Garden, footage of Lance's heroism went viral worldwide.
Some even joked that "New York's Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man" had returned.
Before Mahomes could finish—
A flood of Chiefs players poured in, surrounding Ian with playful shouts:
"Ian!"
"Tell me what happened at the Garden, man!"
"I can't believe you actually made it here tonight!"
The tiny boy, overwhelmed by NFL players closing in like a red wave, barely knew where to look.
Meanwhile, Lance was happily ignored off to the side.
He didn't mind.
He stood up and high-fived Curry.
"You made it after all."
Curry grinned wryly, "And now the media's roasting me for goofing off.
Hey—when you hit your press conference, say something nice for me, would you?"
It was February—NBA season still roaring full-speed.
Sure, everyone knew Super Bowl Sunday was sacred.
Even the NBA avoided scheduling games against it.
Curry didn't need to ask for time off to attend.
But yesterday, he had played in Denver (a loss).
Today, he flew to Minneapolis.
Tomorrow, he rested.
Then the next day?
Back to San Francisco for a home game against the Oklahoma City Thunder.
No rest.
It wasn't hard to guess the media would have a field day about it.
And not just Curry—
LeBron James was here too, but in the Eagles' VIP suite.
Plenty of other NBA players and Hollywood stars dotted the stadium too.
The cameras hardly had a moment's peace.
Tomorrow, the tabloids would surely be ablaze:
LeBron supporting the Eagles?
Curry backing the Chiefs?
Was this a hint about the Browns and the Warriors' fates this year?
The rumors would write themselves.
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates