"Edgewalker! Lance! Lance! Lance!"
The air itself was on fire.
All this time, Alan and Sue had stayed quietly tucked away in the corners of Manhattan's Chinatown. They'd met fans, seen crowds, watched live games, read the headlines, and heard the buzz. In the tidal wave of the information age, they had felt Lance's rising heat.
But only now—standing in the center of it all—did they feel the true impact.
Only being here in person, only experiencing it firsthand, could reveal the kind of shockwave this truly was—
The fever pitch of fandom, the kind that no words or screens could ever capture.
Eyes wide, mouths open, hearts thundering, bodies soaked in sound and color—the world spun in a cyclone of chaos and celebration.
Now, Alan and Sue finally understood what it meant to be "the face of the league."
One glance to the side, and they saw Josh beaming ear to ear.
Josh didn't say much—just raised both hands high and shouted with all his might: "LANCE!"
Alan blinked, momentarily stunned. He didn't quite know how to react, but Sue didn't hesitate. Following Josh's lead, she raised both hands into the air.
"Lance!"
Just one word—but it was electric. It lit her up from the inside out, set her laughing before she realized it.
Originally, Lance had arranged for a sleek black Lincoln to escort his parents from the hotel to U.S. Bank Stadium.
But Josh had insisted: arriving by private car wouldn't let them feel the real Super Bowl energy. Sue convinced Alan—they took the public shuttle instead.
Minneapolis had set up special bus lines to ferry fans from across the city straight to the stadium.
And now, Sue was beginning to understand—
The game hadn't even started yet, and already she was completely swept up in the vibe.
She leaned closer to Alan.
"No wonder our son kept insisting we come in person."
Alan was too overwhelmed to answer—his eyes darted everywhere, soaking in the sounds and lights and people, like he'd just discovered an entirely new world.
They moved with the tide of fans, a great swelling river of humanity that flowed steadily toward the stadium's gates. But instead of joining the general admission crowd, they veered toward the VIP entrance, where men in black suits were already waiting to welcome the players' families.
"LANCE!"
Suddenly, a voice rang out again.
Sue flinched slightly. She'd heard Lance's name shouted so many times today—it was constant. Still, she wasn't quite used to it. She stiffened instinctively.
Alan, still fully immersed in the atmosphere, turned right away.
And then—
He saw her. A plump Italian woman, bouncing toward them in a light blue floral dress. Her arms, round as lotus roots, swung wide as she jogged their way, her face radiant with joy.
"Oh God. Oh my God!" she exclaimed.
"You're Lance's parents, aren't you?!"
Before he could answer, she enveloped Alan in a bear hug.
Sue could see how awkward Alan felt—his whole body tensed, his eyes pleading with her for rescue.
She laughed quietly and pretended not to notice.
"Thank you. Thank you! Truly, thank you," the woman said.
"You have no idea what Lance means to us."
"He gave my son hope again. Gave him the strength to fight. He saved our family."
Tears filled her eyes as she gestured behind her.
A young man in a wheelchair—couldn't be more than thirty—wearing a red #23 jersey and a knit cap, sat quietly. His shoulders were sharp and frail beneath the fabric, his body clearly wasting away. But his face—his face held a bright, beaming smile.
Alan was stunned.
He glanced between the boy and the woman—something caught in his throat.
The woman wiped her tears, forced a smile.
"All because of Lance. He's a good boy. No matter what happens, he keeps fighting. So do we."
"Remember what he said?"
'No confidence, but we will win. Right?'
She hugged Sue next—and this time, Sue hugged her back, hard. One mother comforting another.
The woman buried her face in Sue's shoulder and trembled briefly—but then let go, grinned, and marched toward the wheelchair, pushing her son toward the entrance, vanishing into the current of the crowd.
Sue and Alan looked at each other.
Until now, they'd thought football was just a game, just a job.
But today, they realized—they were wrong.
There was another world out there. A world full of passion, hope, and belief. A world where something as simple as a touchdown could save a life.
The weight of it all struck them like thunder.
As they continued forward, they were greeted by a woman with rosy cheeks and a warm smile.
"Mr. and Mrs. Li," she said kindly.
Alan looked at Sue, and Sue gave a sheepish smile.
They were clearly out of their depth—like peasants stumbling into a palace.
The woman just laughed. "Donna. Donna Kelce. Mother of Jason and Travis."
Sue lit up.
"Oh! Travis! He passed us a holiday message through Lance!"
Then she noticed Donna's jacket—and gasped.
It was a custom varsity jacket—half Eagles green, half Chiefs red.
Donna twirled proudly.
"Pretty slick, huh? Neither of my boys have seen it yet."
Left side: Philadelphia Eagles.
Right side: Kansas City Chiefs.
Sue's eyes widened in wonder.
"Wow… You raised two great kids."
Donna laughed.
"They did all the work. I just cooked dinner. But sure, I'll take the compliment. Tonight, I feel like the biggest winner of all."
She was bold, warm, and funny.
Just moments in her presence had brightened the mood.
Sue couldn't help herself.
"So… whose suite will you be watching from?"
Donna grinned.
"Whichever team loses. That's where I'll be. I want whichever one of my boys needs me the most to know—I'm with him. Even when it hurts. God, I can already feel the heartbreak coming."
She joked without fear, lifting the mood with ease.
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Powerstones?
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