There were maybe 26 hours left before Super Bowl LVIII kickoff when the Kansas City Chiefs buses pulled into the team hotel in Lake Las Vegas. The architect of their budding dynasty exited alongside the players he signed, traded for and drafted.
He looked tired, Brett Veach did, on the eve of another title game. The physical difference between where the team stayed and where its friends and family bunkered had meant hours in traffic, heading back and forth to the strip. The season—which opened with a loss, went up, then lower than ever, then righted, shakily, just as the playoffs began—had exacted a considerable toll. Big decisions loomed: What would he do about Chris Jones? L’Jarius Sneed? They loomed as “good” problems, part of the business of not just building a team that would demand to be remembered, but also sustaining it in a league that’s set up to make continued success almost impossible.
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