Thirty million dollars?
Although Reid wasn't particularly well-versed in player salary specifics, he couldn't help but look up in surprise. His expression was unmasked. "Has it really gotten that high now?"
Veach gave a wry smile and nodded. "The record gets broken every year. If nothing unexpected happens, this year it'll probably be Rodgers setting the mark."
Reid asked, "Has Alex's agent contacted you yet?"
Veach shook his head. "No. And that's the problem. It means he's observing the market."
Reid replied, "But Alex isn't Cousins. He's not that greedy."
Kirk Cousins, a fourth-round pick by the Washington Redskins in 2012, was relatively unknown as a backup until he seized his opportunity in the 2015 season and rose to prominence.
In his first season as a starter, he played well, leading the team to the playoffs, though they lost in the first round. Even with just one solid season under his belt, he demanded Washington sit down at the negotiation table.
And he went big. So big that Washington had no choice but to apply the franchise tag on him. For two consecutive seasons, the negotiations went nowhere, and Washington had to franchise tag him again.
Thus, Cousins gained a reputation: the man whose negotiation skills were better than his on-field abilities. He could precisely identify the team's weak spots and exploit them to maximize his financial gains.
This year, with the franchise tag expired, Washington had to sit back down at the table with Cousins.
Rumors spread that Cousins and the Redskins were discussing a long-term deal. While exact figures were unknown, word had leaked that Cousins was demanding a fully guaranteed contract—a first in NFL history.
In the NFL's history, no player, regardless of position, had ever signed a fully guaranteed deal. The risk of injury or poor performance was too great. For a team, it would be dead money sitting on the salary cap, impossible to move.
Naturally, the league was buzzing.
Not only were teams watching closely, but so were other players.
Whether it was praise or criticism, it didn't matter. What mattered was that Cousins always found a way to get himself a big contract.
Veach took a deep breath. "True, Alex has always been grounded. But a Super Bowl title changes things. He might not demand a Flacco-level historic deal, but that doesn't mean he'd accept being treated like an afterthought. Even if he doesn't care, his agent won't let it slide."
Reid glanced at Veach.
Veach immediately understood. "I called Alex. He was honest. He said he's on vacation and hasn't thought about contracts yet."
That response was a dead giveaway.
In fact, by all logic, with one year still left on Smith's contract, there shouldn't be any talk of a new deal. But Smith's response was a subtle hint—
As the starting quarterback of a Super Bowl championship team, playing for $17 million next year was out of the question. If the Chiefs wanted him to continue as the starter, they'd need to show some sincerity.
Veach had hoped to bypass the agent and talk directly with Smith to appeal to their relationship. But Smith's agent obviously wanted to handle the negotiations himself, possibly even advising Smith to ignore team calls.
Reid nodded. "At least Alex picked up your call and told you where he is."
Veach gave a wry smile. "Yeah, at least that."
But he could imagine that the contract negotiations ahead were not going to be pleasant.
Jumping from a $17 million salary to $30 million in a single season, and with uncertain guarantees, was a daunting challenge for the Chiefs' salary cap.
Reid squinted slightly and looked directly at Veach. "You've already made your decision, haven't you?"
Veach: ...
For a long time, Veach didn't speak. Then, the corners of his mouth slowly lifted, revealing a smile that was both helpless and bitter. Yet in the end, he gave an answer.
"Yes. But..."
Reid smiled, his eyes squinting even more. "In professional sports, there are a thousand reasons not to do something. But if your gut tells you that you must do it, then do it. Whether you like it or not."
Veach raised his eyes to look at Reid. He paused, momentarily stunned, and then the light in his eyes grew sharper and more determined.
…
Golden sunlight spilled lazily across the ground, and warm ocean breezes swept through the air. There was a sense of relaxation and tranquility, as if floating through clouds.
Miami always offered a unique experience.
Vroom, vroom vroom vroom.
The roar of an engine grew louder and louder, and a sapphire-blue Lamborghini zipped around a corner, shooting down the empty street like a streak of lightning.
With a beautiful drift, the Lamborghini pulled up at the entrance of Miami International Airport. Pedestrians coming and going couldn't help but turn their heads to watch.
Alex Smith stepped back a little, making space as he looked around, trying to spot who the car was waiting for.
He did not expect that when the door opened, the person who stepped out, took off his sunglasses, smiled, and called out to him—
"Captain."
Smith pointed at himself: ???
He couldn't help but laugh. "Is it too late for me to turn around and run?"
Standing beside the driver's seat, Lance spread his hands. "It's just a car. If you make a big deal out of it, it's special. But if you don't, it's no different from any other car."
Smith chuckled and shook his head.
But in the end, Smith did not refuse. He opened the door, sat in the passenger seat, and as Lance climbed into the driver's seat, Smith raised his hand. "Seatbelt. Wait till I get my seatbelt on."
Then—
The engine roared again, and the Lamborghini sped off, leaving only a sapphire-blue blur behind. The airport entrance buzzed with excitement for a brief moment before returning to its usual calm.
Smith thought about it, his head starting to hurt—but also starting to smile. He couldn't help but rub his temples. "Rookie, didn't I tell you to keep things low-key?"
Lance looked completely innocent. "Captain, I didn't even open the convertible top. Isn't that low-key enough?"
Smith paused and couldn't find a rebuttal.
Lance's smile grew wider. "No need to stress. This is Miami. Luxury cars are everywhere, one flashier than the next. A Lamborghini isn't even special here. If anything, driving a regular car would stand out more."
"Captain, you're here in Miami for vacation. Purely for relaxation and leisure—nothing to do with work, right? Being straightforward about it draws less attention."
If you try to hide, people get suspicious.
Now that everyone has smartphones, it's almost impossible to hide. Trying to be low-key just makes you more noticeable.
"That's why I specifically borrowed this car from JJ."
Smith's eyes widened in surprise. "JJ Watt? I didn't know he was like that."
Lance burst into laughter. "It's not actually JJ's. It belongs to DeAndre. He's a Clemson guy. He didn't want to lend it to me, so JJ helped smooth things over."
Smith paused, and finally, a smile reappeared on his face.
After a moment, Smith spoke again. "How did you know I wasn't just here for vacation?"
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Powerstones?
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