This also meant that Mahomes would need to continue lying low in the backup position.
It was that simple.
"Phew, I know."
Lance let out a long sigh.
"But reality isn't that simple, right?"
A bitter smile crept onto Lance's face.
"Captain, I'm friends with Sherlock, but I'm also your teammate."
"To me, this shouldn't be a matter of life and death."
"But…"
"We can only focus on the present, focus on right now."
If Lance knew football well enough, if he understood the trajectory of the next six years, maybe he could give a wiser answer right now.
But unfortunately, there was no "if."
"So, Captain, it's not about what I think. It's about what you think."
"Your experience, your ability, your résumé are the guarantee, and the Super Bowl championship is the cherry on top. The decision has always been in your hands."
Lance looked at Smith, his eyes clear and steady—no hesitation, no wavering, no retreat, no avoidance. That look made Smith feel slightly ashamed—
In fact, he had been trying to dodge responsibility, to push the pressure of the decision onto someone else, let them be the bad guy, while he stood aside pretending to be innocent.
Because he knew what staying meant—he would need a big contract, he wanted to fight for a big contract, and that could put pressure on the team's salary cap.
At the same time, he also knew what leaving meant—he might become the target of Chiefs fans' criticism and attacks, labeled as ungrateful.
He didn't want to bear that kind of pressure.
So.
He hid.
He hid behind his agent.
He hid behind Lance.
Until now.
Smith realized for the first time that maybe he wasn't as kind as he thought.
Moreover, personality determines destiny—his indecision and constant hesitation were the real shackles preventing him from breaking through.
Realizing this made Smith feel uncomfortable, unable to accept his own ugliness.
However.
Seeing the firm gaze in Lance's eyes—no judgment, no blame, only sincerity and trust—Smith's anxious heart began to calm down.
"You know about what happened in San Francisco, so I think this time, I should take the initiative."
"I don't want to be the one waiting for news."
Everyone understood the logic: there's no mercy in professional sports, only interests.
But when you actually experience it yourself, the pain doesn't lessen.
Even if you've been through it before, it still hurts the same.
Taking a deep breath, Smith looked at Lance and seemed to finally make up his mind.
"I'm going to request a trade."
Lance was the first person Smith told.
Even his agent didn't know, because this was a decision Smith had just made.
The agent was still preparing to engage in a cat-and-mouse game with Veach to secure a $30 million annual salary with high guaranteed money.
But now, Smith had changed his mind.
Smith thought he would feel heartbroken or sad, but when he saw the sadness and bitterness in Lance's eyes, all those emotions vanished. That heavy stone on his heart gently landed.
Making the decision was supposed to be so much harder than this. Yet, unexpectedly, the shoe had dropped just like that.
Smith knew this was the right choice.
"This was supposed to happen anyway."
"If we hadn't won the Super Bowl, the team would've done this. I've been prepared for it ever since last year's draft."
"So, I shared everything I knew with Patrick. That's the only thing I could do to repay Kansas City and the team for accepting me with open arms in a league where only interests matter. They tolerated my terrible performance of getting eliminated in the first round of the playoffs, year after year."
"I don't have much to give, but at least, this is something I can offer."
Lance felt a bit heartbroken because he could hear the reluctance, regret, longing, happiness, and bitterness in Smith's words. The emotions were so mixed and so rich that they hurt just listening to them.
Lance called out, "Captain…"
Smith raised his hand to stop him. "I'm fine. On the contrary, I'm even more certain that I made the right decision."
"Now, we are Super Bowl champions. Things are supposed to change."
"Rookie, I'm not that noble. I want to fight for a higher salary—not just the annual salary but also the guaranteed money. I'm not some saint."
"But staying in Kansas City would mean my salary would take up a massive chunk of the cap space."
"In fact, that was always the team's concern. That's why they picked Patrick last year. It was a comprehensive consideration to clear cap space, using a younger Patrick to replace me."
"And don't forget, you're part of the reason too."
Lance was stunned: Me? What did I do?
Smith's eyes glowed with a smile, free of sorrow and weight. He was completely relaxed now.
"Hey, Mr. Third Overall Pick, your salary also takes up part of the cap."
"The team picked two first-rounders. On the surface, it looks glorious, but in reality, it puts pressure on the salary cap. Fortunately, Chicago helped share the burden, and you were the third pick and not the second, or else the team wouldn't have had the cap space to pick Patrick."
So that's how it was.
During last year's draft, the Kansas City Chiefs had flaunted their glory; now it was time for the headaches to follow. The cycle of cause and effect never disappointed.
Lance chuckled bitterly. "Then the team should be grateful I'm not asking for a renegotiated contract this year."
"Haha! Hahaha!" Smith immediately caught the sarcasm in Lance's words and burst out laughing. He didn't mind at all; instead, he felt relieved, laughing wholeheartedly.
Gently, Smith nodded. "Yeah, so right now, I'm the team's problem."
"Because of you and Patrick, the team's been constantly worried about the salary cap. And now I'm asking for a new contract and a higher salary. I'm the team's trouble."
"A big, fat problem."
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Powerstones?
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