The Inevitable
What it Feels Like to be Owned
Ray Ban sunglasses sit perched on the nose of the face across the table. The black lenses shield God’s given lie detectors. To win in poker is to have no tells. No traces of indication of what hand you hold in yours. Good or bad, never is anyone to know if those cards can kill them, because at any given moment they can. It’s socially acceptable to wear Ray Bans at the poker table because everyone around it knows— the tell is in your eyes. Behind them sits the life. You can’t hide it in them—the ache, the pain, the journey– they reflect your feelings out like a mirror. Between the bridge of your nose and sunken beneath your eyebrows your eyes reveal the truth of a face that can always tell a lie. Smiles can be painted, laughs falsified, but the eyes, the eyes will never lie.
Sunglasses were few and far between amongst the sea of red and blue. Hats, gloves and scarves were aplenty as their faces were tinged red from the cold. Their eyes peered over the tops of their scarves— they ached with hope and were stained with heartbreak. When the moment came it felt heavy in their hand. The weight of a thousand wishes— a hope of something different, a change to the ending, a new narrative— but it all slipped away with the west blowing wind. Faces fell as eyes welled from the sting of scars bleeding again. They watched it happen again, him happen again— how could it happen again?
In California the damp Santa Clara winds blustered as blank eyes donned the faces of the green and gold. Behind them life slowed as the moment sunk in. A fresh cut bleeding while they waited for the scar. Rain fell, soaking into their grass stained jerseys as they sat there, grasping for answers to the never ending what if’s. Bested again by the team they just can’t beat— how did they do it again?
The Bills and the Packers have lost a combined 8 consecutive postseason games against the Kansas City Chiefs and the San Fransisco 49ers. Buffalo can’t solve the puzzle of the Chiefs. They thought it might have been the field, the cheers of the home crowd and the comfort of the short commute. The Packers are the same with the Niners. But they thought it was the quarterback. Cursed by the team who never took a chance on him. The one naysayer he couldn’t stick a middle finger to. Turns out it was so much more than that for both of them. They are missing pieces from a box with no picture on it. They can’t even envision what a win would look like.
San Francisco played patiently. Purdy narrowly avoided interceptions with the help of luck and Christian McCaffery. Shanahan & Co. continue to understand how to exploit the Packers weaknesses with meticulous play calling and defensive execution. But in actuality they just had to wait for the mistake that was bound to happen— and the game was theirs for the taking.
The Packers had the game, they outplayed San Francisco in all 3 phases. Carlson’s kick, Savage’s interception, Love’s final drive. What could have been the breaker of the curse became another L in the loss column. Left down to Love, his inexperience broke through as he tried to play hero ball—when all he needed was a field goal. The shackles of the Niners dominance stay cuffed to the hands of the Packers— the key is held in Jordan Love’s hands. It's only a matter of time before he finds out how to use it.
The Buffalo Bills had the momentum. They were on a 6 game win streak and had come from behind to win the division from the most improbable chances of doing so. Josh Allen was playing like an MVP. They at last had both a run game and receivers to compliment him. Finally at home, their place, their time. This one felt different—and it was the moment to take it.
The problem was never them— it was the man across the sidelines.
Patrick Mahomes has the Buffalo Bills number and calls it any time the Chiefs need a postseason win. The 3 picks the Chiefs traded to Buffalo during the 2017 draft to move from 27 to 10 to draft Mahomes echo in every contest they play. The trade is not so much a “what-if” for the Bills but a “we did this to ourselves— we were a part of creating this beast that tortures us at our own misfortune every chance he gets.”
Shades of Michael Jordan’s postseason dominance reflect in Mahomes ability to relentlessly spit in the face of a team that won’t quit trying to spit back. “You can’t touch me even if you tried— even when you try.” Unabashed confidence flows through his fingertips as he carves the opposition in ways they didn’t even know they could be cut. It's as if the brighter lights and bigger stages in harder places against tougher teams enact a sense of animalistic instinct in him with only one objective, you’re winning this game.
It's tough to beat a guy who just can’t miss.
Coming into a game against a team you’ve dominated for so long is like taking a test in a class that you’re acing. The confidence drips off you like sweat. You haven’t thought twice about this all day. On the other side of the field this is all they’ve thought about the past 365 days. Beating you. Ending the shame. Getting the chance to spit back your face. A public humiliation on the grandest stage.
But no pair of sunglasses can hide the inevitable. The inescapable feeling of incoming defeat from that same face— those same colors. Just so sick of those colors. The Kansas City Chiefs and The San Francisco 49ers didn’t need Ray Ban’s to hide their eyes. There was no tell they would have given that could have indicated the otherwise obvious. They were always going to win these games versus these teams. Against them— their inevitable.
Graphics once again very hard 💯
As a Raiders fan, having the Chiefs be not just this good but this good and in this way, Mahomes as "a guy who just can’t miss," it's absolutely brutal.