Patrick Mahomes Had a Worse Night Than Your Uncle Who Bet His Mortgage on the Chiefs
You could see it in Mahomes’ eyes during that first drive—hope, determination, the faint sparkle of a man who thought he was about to make Super Bowl history. By the second quarter, that sparkle had been replaced with the look of someone trapped in a Costco parking lot the weekend before Christmas.
Sacked six times. SIX. I haven’t seen that kind of relentless pursuit since I tried to leave the IKEA labyrinth without a meatball pit stop. And the defense didn’t just sack him; they treated him like a piñata at a billionaire’s birthday party. Every time he got up, he thought, This must be what Tom Brady’s nightmares look like.
Three Turnovers, No Dignity
Turnovers. At one point, Mahomes lobbed a ball so casually to the Eagles defense that I swear it whispered, “I’m tired. Just take me home.”
And interceptions—each more tragic than Bills kicker Scott Norwood missing that 47-yard field goal that would have given Buffalo its first Super Bowl.
One of the turnovers was so egregious I expected a referee to say, “This ball is now in the witness protection program.” The Chiefs’ sideline started gathering around him like they were about to hold an intervention and even his linemen looked like disappointed parents.
11 Hungry Wolves in a Meat Locker
The Eagles defense didn’t play football. They declared eminent domain on Mahomes. I wouldn’t have been surprised if they had drawn up blueprints for a new apartment complex on his half of the field. Every blitz looked like a pack of wild dogs chasing the world’s last Amazon delivery van.
By the fourth quarter, Mahomes had been hit so many times Hasbro started developing a new board game called Duck, Duck, Sack.
From Super Bowl Hero to Conspiracy Theorist
You ever take such a brutal beating that your mind starts looking for reasons outside reality? By halftime, Mahomes stared at his linemen and thought, Are y’all getting paid by Philadelphia? Did Andy Reid forget to pay the rent on the O-line?
There were moments on the bench where he imagined he was in a parallel universe—a place where defense is optional, and the Eagles’ front line is replaced by mall Santas on break.
Commentators: The Salt on the Wound
As if Mahomes needed more humiliation, the broadcast team spent three hours subtly roasting him with phrases like, “He’s really struggling to find his rhythm,” which is code for, “The man is drowning in quicksand but doesn’t know it yet.” At one point, someone in the booth said, “You can’t put all the blame on Mahomes,” which is basically saying, But you totally can.
I expected them to announce that Mahomes’ performance was being nominated for an ESPN special called “Top Ten Super Bowl Implosions”.
The Three-Peat That Never Was
This was supposed to be the Chiefs’ historic three-peat. Instead, they’re going to be the answer to a sad trivia question at a Buffalo Wild Wings in 2030: “Which team lost their shot at a Super Bowl dynasty because Patrick Mahomes got treated like a crash test dummy?”
By the time the clock hit zero, Mahomes looked like he wanted to climb into a cab, head straight to Bourbon Street, and request a therapy session with the first street magician he could find.
Moral of the Story: Football Can Be Cruel
Football is like a bad relationship sometimes. One minute you’re the king of the world, and the next, you’re the guy whose fiancée ran off with the wedding DJ. Mahomes might have walked into that Superdome thinking he was going to add another chapter to his legacy. Instead, he walked out wondering if life insurance covers emotional trauma caused by an Eagles pass rush.
