“Never won a Super Bowl.”
“That’s what we’re all chasing.”
Alex Smith must be thinking of the end.
How can it not claw at the mind? The thought of the endless pursuit ceasing to exist. All the work. All the hidden hours. Devolved into a meaningless, empty resolution. How could all of it lead to nothing? The reality hits quickly. With a jolt. Like lightning.
The lights came faster now as Alex Smith walked into a room, eyes watching him, cameras flashing, hands clapping. He casually made his way up the ramp and settled to the right of a polished wooden podium with a black canvas splayed out behind him, donning a navy suit and a navy tie.