Miami Dolphins WR Tyreek Hill wants an AFC Championship matchup vs. the Kansas City Chiefs
Hill maintains his loyalty to Dolphins quarterback Tua Tagovailoa with his supportive comments. He hasn't had success on the field against Kansas City, with two losses during the 2023 season, including the Wild Card playoff matchup at Arrowhead Stadium.Miami missed the postseason last year, in part due to injuries and off-field distractions. A dream showdown between Hill's Dolphins and the Chiefs would be a must-see event during the AFC Championship game.
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USA Today
26 minutes ago
- USA Today
Drew Brees weighs in on the Kansas City Chiefs' offensive line's impact on Patrick Mahomes
This week, Chiefs Wire's Ed Easton Jr. spoke to New Orleans Saints legend Drew Brees about his partnership with Jimmy John's, creating his personalized sandwich, The Brees #9, and shared his thoughts on the Kansas City Chiefs' offensive line impacting Patrick Mahomes. "Well, first off, there's a lot of history there. So I grew up in Texas and went to Purdue University to play football and get a great education in 1997. I was probably ordering Jimmy John's to my dorm room about three times a week my freshman year." said Brees, "I was always amazed that even at like three in the morning, I could dial up Jimmy John's The next thing I know, some guy would come riding up in a bicycle about 15 minutes later with this perfect number nine sandwich, which is called the Italian nightclub. It's salami, capicola, ham, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, oil, vinegar, salt, pepper, and then, like this, basil, oregano mix. It was the greatest bite of food ever." Like everyone in the football world, Brees witnessed the outcome of the Chiefs' loss to the Eagles in Super Bowl LIX. He shared his thoughts on the impact of the offensive and defensive lines on a game plan. "The game is won and lost in the trenches, so it's with the O-Line, with the D-Line, and their ability to pressure the quarterback and affect the run game. I mean, for a quarterback, you need a run game to create some balance, which, in large part, is that front five linemen plus a tight end, who are moving guys off the ball and creating lanes for the runners." said Brees, "In the passing game, one little breakdown up front can affect your opportunity to make a big player not make a big play down the field. Those are the differences in the game. It's usually when high-level teams are playing against each other. It's two or three games, two or three plays in the game that make the difference, I mean, with a guy like (Patrick) Mahomes, he can make everybody look good, I mean, there's plenty of times where I'm watching the tape and guys come free. He's making a miss, doing something to extend the play, keeping the drive alive, or making a big play, and you're like, Okay, that was just Mahomes being Mahomes. But at the end of the day, it's a team game, and that offensive line is so crucial in regards to the success of the quarterback and just the overall comfort level." Due to Philadelphia's pressure, Mahomes was sacked six times in Super Bowl LIX and committed turnovers. Brees detailed the mindset of a quarterback when faced with pressure in the pocket. Plenty of times, too, when all of a sudden, if the D-Lines get after you or you're having breakdowns up front, it certainly works into your thought process, and you begin to speed up a little bit. You start to think, Hey, I gotta get the ball out," said Brees, "so that can affect many things. It can affect how the play caller handles the game, too. Hey, I'm just unable to dial up certain things because we can't protect. But look at the Eagles' front, which was outstanding during the Super Bowl. I don't think it's anything against the Chiefs' front. I think it's more so that they were outstanding on the other side of the ball. But yeah, that game got away from them." Fans can order The Brees #9, Drew's personal Jimmy John's go-to order, for the first time. Available for a limited time through August 31st, the order supports Jimmy John's Foundation, benefiting Boys & Girls Clubs of America and the Brees Dream Foundation.
New York Times
27 minutes ago
- New York Times
A Seahawks Super Bowl disaster and the unraveling of a would-be dynasty: ‘They took a dream'
The following excerpt from The Franchise: Seattle Seahawks: A Curated History of the Legion of Boom Era by Michael-Shawn Dugar is reprinted with the permission of Triumph Books. It has been lightly edited in spots for context and clarity. You can find more information and order a copy here. Marshawn Lynch imagined this moment countless times as a kid growing up in North Oakland: 'It's the end of the game … one more play … the quarterback hand the ball off to Marshawn … he jump in the end zone — touchdown! The Oakland Raiders win the Super Bowl!' Advertisement The final seconds of Super Bowl XLIX between the Seattle Seahawks and New England Patriots nearly played out that way. With Seattle on the New England 5-yard line, trailing 28-24 with 1:06 remaining, NBC's Cris Collinsworth said, 'Now you have to stop Marshawn Lynch.' Then Wilson put the ball in Lynch's hands. 'Here he goes,' play-by-play man Al Michaels said as the running back plowed forward. 'Beast Mode! To the half-yard line!' Offensive coordinator Darrell Bevell recalled that the Seahawks had failed on a pair of short-yardage runs earlier in the game: Vince Wilfork blew up a third-and-2 shotgun run for no gain in the first quarter, and linebacker Rob Ninkovich did the same on a third-and-1 carry in the third quarter. With those plays in mind, Bevell didn't think Lynch would just walk into the end zone if he called another run play on second down. Even though Lynch was also successful on a three-yard touchdown run on third-and-2 in the second quarter and produced a first down on a second-and-1 run in the third, Bevell believed he made the right decision based on the situation. Obviously, Lynch could have scored the game-winning touchdown, but when Bevell hears that he made the worst call of all time, 'I would not agree with that' is his retort. As for the specifics of the play he chose, Bevell felt good about giving Russell Wilson options: he could go to Doug Baldwin if the Patriots were in zone coverage, Ricardo Lockette if they were in man-to-man. 'The process was solid,' Bevell said. 'And I think the play call gave us a great opportunity to be very successful.' Choosing to throw on second down may have made sense to the coaching staff, but not to the dreamer from North Oakland. 'Not only did they take a ring, a moment — they took a dream,' Lynch said. 'That's a once-in-a-lifetime situation.' There wasn't any debate or discussion of audibling when Russell Wilson said the call. Sure, players I've spoken with had their objections, but they didn't feel it was their place to express it in that moment. Wilson was among the most powerful players in the huddle, and he fully believed in Bevell's call. So that left only Baldwin, Lynch, and possibly veteran center Max Unger as the guys with the cache to overrule the decision, although that would likely have required burning the team's final timeout. So onward they went. Advertisement Because receiver Chris Matthews had torched the Patriots earlier in the game, Brandon Browner replaced Logan Ryan as Matthews' primary defender. This substitution thrust backup cornerback Malcolm Butler into the game. On this final play, Browner lined up directly over Jermaine Kearse. Butler was several yards deep into the end zone, aligned over Lockette. Kearse figured there were two ways to play it: either Browner would take Lockette, or they'd 'lock' it, meaning the defenders follow who's in front of them. Butler and Browner chose the latter because they knew what was coming. Kearse thought it'd be an easy touchdown if he could disrupt Browner. But the bigger and stronger Browner overpowered Kearse, and Butler predicted a slant pattern by Lockette based on the receiver keeping his head forward then immediately turning to Wilson after jabbing outside with his right foot. Seattle's longtime play-by-play announcer Steve Raible described what followed: 'Lynch in the backfield … Russell looks, throws inside … OH MY GOD, IT'S PICKED OFF … AT THE GOAL LINE … IT'S PICKED OFF BY BUTLER … INTENDED FOR LOCKETTE AT THE GOAL LINE!' The atmosphere inside Seattle's locker room was one of tragedy. One year earlier, Lynch made sure Philthy Rich's 'Ready 2 Ride' blasted throughout the room in celebration of their triumph. This time, Lynch was fully dressed, headphones on, beelining for the exits by the time his teammates even arrived to a locker room soundtracked by silence. Heartbreak, despair, disgust, frustration, disbelief, and confusion filled the air. Tears flowed from the faces of coaches, executives, and players. Some players were inconsolable. Others were enraged, yelling and screaming at one another, and even some coaches. A backup defensive lineman punched a wall and injured his hand. Everyone I've ever spoken with described a dark, ominous room, like life had just been zapped from them, and they were all living the same nightmare. Advertisement 'It's like a death,' longtime vice president of player engagement Mo Kelly said. 'It's hard to ever get over that.' Getting over it was harder for some than others. The first step was hearing why they decided to throw the ball in that situation. Pete Carroll doubled down on his thought process: to get four bites at the apple with only one timeout, they had to throw ball at some point. It was sound logic schematically — but logic his locker room wasn't interesting in hearing, largely because they believed anything other than trusting Lynch to get across that line was flawed thinking. Throwing the ball was largely viewed as such a ludicrous notion that it birthed the conspiracy theory that Carroll and Bevell called that play to try and ensure Wilson won the MVP over Lynch, who at the time was feuding with the front office and making headlines for his rebellious stance against the press. Lynch publicly wondered if the coaches had plotted against him in that way. Carroll and Bevell are adamant that such a notion is ridiculous. Carroll isn't one to hold grudges, but he was upset his players were foolish enough to think he gave a damn about the MVP. When Carroll addressed the team at their meeting back in Seattle, he tripled down on the thought process and went as far as to say he'd throw the ball again if presented the same scenario. The room fell silent. Then the culture really started to fall apart. 'You already punched me in my stomach once,' one player told me of his reaction to Carroll's explanation, 'and he just took a knife this time and put it through my soul.' The Super Bowl loss and Carroll's reasoning behind the final play did irreparable damage to the Seahawks and their culture. For years, the players had essentially been programmed to believe they were a family. They internalized that idea and lived by it. This was especially true for the players whose only NFL experience was in Seattle. Losing the Super Bowl in that manner led them to poke holes in the message and the philosophy, like children growing up and bucking back at parents who they learned have been deceiving them. Their identity was to run the ball, but they felt they unnecessarily abandoned it when it mattered most. The Seahawks had been built around a collection of players who shared a familial bond. The bond was broken and shattered after the Super Bowl. The trust they once had was replaced by finger-pointing and skepticism. There wasn't a single dramatic blowup that made people feel this way, it was more a slow, drawn out feeling of division. But Carroll's explanation in the team meeting didn't help, neither did offensive line coach Tom Cable redirecting the blame, saying that if the defense hadn't blown a 10-point lead in the fourth quarter there'd be nothing to talk about. Cable's comment infuriated members of the defense. Any hope that the players wouldn't leave for the off-season with lingering bad feelings was gone. 'We didn't trust each other,' K.J. Wright said, describing the aftermath. 'We didn't connect with each other. It was a dark, gray cloud hovering over us. For it to get addressed the way it got addressed and for us to not talk about it — we needed therapy. If it was me, we'd have had therapy to let it out.' Wilson organized a trip to Hawaii for his teammates, with over 30 attendees. He wanted them to hang out and air their grievances in a safe space. It worked for some of the guys. They let it all out on the island and were able to leave the past where it belonged. It didn't work for everyone, though. And Wilson didn't make the situation any better by echoing Carroll's sentiment that he'd run the same play again if given the opportunity. Wilson had every right to share his truth but that's not a truth anyone wanted to hear, especially if their truth was that doing anything other than handing the ball to Lynch was idiotic and unforgivable. The Hawaii trip was a decent idea, but it was mostly a flop. Advertisement The Seahawks had become the spouse who stayed with their partner after being cheated on. The relationship remained intact, but the connection wasn't as strong. They forgave but didn't forget, and the feeling never faded. A text message here, a dinner conversation there. Venting to Kelly and longtime equipment director Erik Kennedy. A meeting before losing to the Packers in Week 2 of the 2015 season. Richard Sherman calling out the offensive coaches on the sideline on national television over a failed goal-line pass in 2016. An ESPN The Magazine article in 2017 explaining why Sherman won't let it go. A Sports Illustrated article in 2018 about other teammates basically feeling the same way. New coaches that joined the staff in 2018 could feel that players couldn't get over the fact they were only one-time champions. 'It lingered,' Baldwin said in 2022. 'We did our best to try and come out of it but … you got guys who are legitimately killing themselves. Every time you step out on that field and you get hit, you're taking days off your life. You have guys who are legitimately killing themselves to get to that moment. We were on the 1-yard line. There's nothing that's going to stop Marshawn and that offensive line from getting in the end zone.' (Photo of Marshawn Lynch: Christian Petersen / Getty Images) Spot the pattern. Connect the terms Find the hidden link between sports terms Play today's puzzle
New York Times
27 minutes ago
- New York Times
Before the Super Bowls, the Chiefs were at rock bottom. One blueprint changed everything
Editor's note: This article is part of the Program Builders series, focusing on the behind-the-scenes executives and people fueling the future growth of their sports. One of the great NFL turnarounds began with a phone call. On New Year's Eve in 2012, Andy Reid walked out of a farewell party on his final day with the Philadelphia Eagles. He had been fired after 14 seasons and the final moments had been bittersweet — a tearful meeting with his players and a goodbye to team employees. Advertisement As he left the office for the final time, his phone lit up. It was Clark Hunt, the owner and chairman of the Kansas City Chiefs. Hunt had one question on his mind: Did Reid still want to coach? Reid was 54 and coming off a grueling 14-year stretch in Philly, an arduous slog of media scrutiny, heartbreaking postseason losses and, earlier that year, the loss of his oldest son, Garrett, to a drug overdose. Yet a better question might have been: Why would Reid want to coach the Chiefs? Few franchises had gone through an uglier season than the 2012 Chiefs. They had finished 2-14 — the worst record in team history. They didn't have a good quarterback, let alone a franchise one. They hadn't won a playoff game in 19 years and had experienced off-the-field tragedy. Just a month earlier, Chiefs linebacker Jovan Belcher had killed his girlfriend, driven to the team practice facility, and died by suicide in front of team employees, leaving the whole organization shaken. The Chiefs did not just need a new head coach, Hunt would say later. They needed a new brand, a new strategy and a new culture. What they needed was a wholesale turnaround. In the business world, there is a term for the person charged with improving a struggling company: the Turnaround Leader. In the early 2000s, Rosabeth Moss Kanter, a professor at Harvard Business School, set out to understand why some Turnaround Leaders succeed and others falter. The biggest reason, she believed, was confidence. 'Leadership is not about the leader,' Kanter wrote in her book, 'Confidence: How Winning Streaks & Losing Streaks Begin and End.' 'It is about how he or she builds the confidence of everyone else.' Kanter built a framework for Turnaround Leaders: 1. Espouse: The Power of Message 'Leaders articulate values and vision and deliver pep talks.' Advertisement 2. Exemplify: The Power of Models 'Leaders showcase the accountable and collaborative behavior they expect from others.' 3. Establish: The Power of Formal Mechanisms. 'Leaders create process, structure and routine.' Kanter theorized that nearly every successful turnaround — whether it's a Fortune 500 company, a school or a football team — has leadership that exhibits those behaviors. The Turnaround Leader excels at identifying hidden talent, rebuilding culture, communicating directly and sparking creativity and collaboration. Early in his career, Peter Cuneo helped lead turnarounds at companies like Bristol Myers Squibb and Remington Products. But his biggest came 25 years ago, when he became CEO of Marvel Entertainment. Marvel, the iconic comic-book brand, had gone bankrupt. Its culture was stale. Cuneo was present as the company dusted itself off, rebuilt its strategy around licensing its thousands of characters and reaped the rewards as a group of visionary leaders turned the brand into one of the powerful forces in Hollywood history, eventually selling it to Disney for $4 billion. 'I've been a part of seven turnarounds, and in the businesses I've been in, it's almost always poor leadership,' Cuneo said during an interview. 'It's leadership that lacks courage.' In the 12 years since Andy Reid accepted Clark Hunt's offer to coach the Chiefs, the franchise has transformed into one of the more respected and successful in the NFL, winning three Super Bowls and playing in two more, including a loss last season to the Philadelphia Eagles. While the arrival of quarterback Patrick Mahomes elevated the Chiefs to the next level, it was the culture and foundation in the early years that allowed Mahomes to thrive. Before the Super Bowl parades, there was the turnaround, and whether Reid knew it or not, the process he carried out shared most of the attributes — and therefore the lessons — of a great corporate turnaround. In the days after Reid arrived in Kansas City, Dustin Colquitt, the Chiefs' veteran punter, was working out at the team facility, preparing for the Pro Bowl. Reid sent word down to Colquitt that he wanted to meet, and after eight years in the NFL and four head coaches, Colquitt interpreted that to mean one thing: Now. Advertisement But the invitation from Reid came with a surprising caveat. Reid wanted Colquitt to see him after he finished his work. When Colquitt entered the coach's office, Reid had two questions: He asked Colquitt if he preferred to stay with the Chiefs or earn a fresh start somewhere else, allowing the veteran a sense of agency. Then he asked about the state of the team's culture. It was no secret that morale had flatlined. In the previous two seasons, the organization had weathered a series of public hits. The team was facing a lawsuit over age discrimination. (It was settled out of court.) Former coach Todd Haley had told The Kansas City Star that he suspected rooms at the team facility were bugged. And the lines of communication throughout the organization were severed, leaving players worried about snitches and backbiting. It felt, Colquitt said, like 'everyone was on a chopping block.' 'There was always a notion of like, even if guys have incentives in their contracts, if they're getting close, we're not going to let them get there,' Colquitt said. Reid listened as Colquitt talked, then offered his own message: It's gonna be drastically different. At one of his first team meetings, Colquitt recalled, Reid addressed the elephant in the room. 'I want you guys to make as much money as you can,' he said. 'If you're helping us, I want to help you.' At some point around the time he hired Reid, Clark Hunt realized the Chiefs did not have an organizational culture. Reid set out to change that. He focused on simple values like honesty, respect and caring. He told players to be themselves and showcase their personalities. In meetings, he outlined a set of hard-line rules and boundaries, then gave players the freedom to exist within them. Advertisement 'Simple stuff,' said Chiefs special teams coach Dave Toub. 'Be on time. Do the right thing off the field. Be careful with the media, with what you say. 'You got to set those parameters, and you can't change from them. If somebody doesn't do it, you got to get them out of there.' When Reid worked in Philadelphia, Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie promoted a key rule: Treat the janitor exactly the same as you treat me. When Reid brought the ethos to Kansas City, it reminded Hunt of his father, Chiefs founder Lamar Hunt. 'I think it's built on respect for each other,' Hunt said. 'That's really just part of Andy's makeup.' Soon enough, Hunt said, the Reid culture became the Chiefs' culture. 'I would credit Andy Reid a lot with the culture that we have,' Hunt said. The respect stretched to other corners of the building, where employees had long felt neglected. Reid started a tradition of inviting coaches' wives to join the traveling party for one trip each year. He told players he wanted to see their families celebrating on the field after wins. 'He knows how to treat everybody the same, which is differently,' Colquitt said. 'He embraced every guy and their personality and what they brought off the field. A lot of coaches would be like: 'I don't care what you have going on outside, we got to focus in here.' And he said: 'We care about you, whatever you have personally going on off the field.'' When the Chiefs gathered for offseason training activities before Reid's first season, they discovered a new tradition: They had to complete a conditioning test. It wasn't unheard of in the NFL. But Reid took it more seriously than most. Players had to work up to, and then complete, 16 half-gassers — an up-and-back sprint across the width of the field — in an allotted time. Advertisement 'There's a mentality with that,' said Chiefs offensive coordinator Matt Nagy, who was then the quarterbacks coach. 'It's not a country club. It's something for us to be able to know: We're going to grind. We're gonna work hard. We're gonna build this brotherhood.' For Reid and his staff, the mentality began that first year at training camp, where they piled into dorms at Missouri Western State University, an hour north of Kansas City. The accommodations were Spartan; plain walls and few furnishings. Practices were breakneck. The staff overloaded the offense with installations and concepts, then offered clear, concise and direct feedback. By doing so, Reid created a standard and expectation. 'You gotta be honest with your players,' Nagy said. 'They know how to read whether you're honest or not. And then you gotta practice hard. I think that's one of the things we've always done with Coach Reid.' One of the pieces of organizational infrastructure that Reid brought with him from Philadelphia was something he called the 'Unity Council.' It consisted of appointed leaders from each position group, and every Wednesday morning, they would gather with Reid for a quick meeting. The council was not designed for X's and O's. It was meant to create a safe space for players to voice concerns emanating from the rest of the roster. One of the early tests during Reid's tenure, for instance, came when the Chiefs started winning, which caused the cost of players' tickets to jump by close to 50 percent. The players in the Unity Council did not think it was fair that they were doing the winning and paying more for tickets. 'We took that to Andy, and that was done that day,' Colquitt said. Reid emphasized informal communication, too. He opened lines at practice, asking players to deliver feedback. He extolled creativity and collaboration. He filled the playbook with gadget plays and exotic formations. The plays were chosen because the staff thought they might be successful. But Reid also believed there was value in allowing players to have more fun. Advertisement Reid rarely yelled, but he was always firm. He prided himself on never losing control. When long snapper James Winchester joined the roster two years later, he realized that Reid's displeasure would come out in subtle ways. 'The worst you're gonna get from Coach Reid out on the field is like a 'pick it up' or 'come on, man,'' Winchester said. 'That 'come on, man' really cuts you deep. It's like my dad just said: 'Pick it up.' And guys respect that.' The communication style paid off in clear ways. The year before Reid arrived, the Chiefs' practice facility was a ghost town on Tuesdays, the NFL's traditional day off. In Reid's first year, it was often packed. Colquitt would show up to work, and there would be 35 or 40 players in the building, working out, receiving treatment, hanging around the locker room, just talking. It was a culture Reid fostered. The Chiefs finished 11-5 in Reid's first season, the franchise's most victories in a decade. They returned to the postseason. And although they missed the playoffs the next year — finishing 9-7 — they returned to the postseason again in 2015 and haven't missed it since. The arrival of Mahomes took the franchise to new heights and a trio of Super Bowl championships followed. But the foundation was laid years earlier. The turnaround wasn't an anomaly; it was a blueprint. Spot the pattern. Connect the terms Find the hidden link between sports terms Play today's puzzle
