Berry's smile was bright and warm, his tone as light as if chatting about tomorrow's weather—whether it'd be a good day for a picnic. But that only made it more heartbreaking.
Houston tried to speak, but his mind was blank, and all that surged up was anger—a kind of helpless fury words couldn't express.
"Eric, this isn't funny."
"This… this isn't fair. Didn't the doctors offer another option? Maybe one of them made a mistake? You look fine."
The sa sentences, looping again and again, like a cornered animal.
Berry didn't respond to Houston—
The truth was, he could feel the pain in his heel even just standing there.
The doctor had said it: Haglund's syndro made his ankle more vulnerable, and if he kept playing, every injury would hurt worse. Surgery was the only way forward if he wanted any chance of continuing his career.
Berry had consulted four different doctors. The details varied, but the conclusion was the sa.
The surgery wasn't high-risk—but the recovery would be brutal. And even if he did it, there were no guarantees he'd return to the NFL. Without it, though, there wasn't even a sliver of hope.
In other words… he had no choice.
Or rather, he had one.
Retirent.
If he chose to retire, he wouldn't live in pain. No more sleepless nights. He'd live like an ordinary man again. Pain-free, comfortable, even financially secure—so long as he didn't make stupid decisions.
But… could he accept that?
In 2010, the Kansas City Chiefs took Berry fifth overall in the first round. In eight full seasons—minus two lost to injury—he was one of the most dominant safeties in the league.
He'd earned fa, respect, a na known across the country.
All he lacked… was a ring.
Now, after eight years of battles and blood, they were finally at the doorstep of the Super Bowl—and he had to step away?
Stand on the sidelines like a cheerleader, waving a towel while others fought for his dream?
He couldn't accept that.
He wanted to be on that field. He wanted to bleed for it. To burn for it. But the cruel truth was—he wouldn't even get the chance.
That was his pride. His stubbornness. His obsession.
And he had tried to let it go. Tried to talk himself into retirent.
But in the end… he couldn't.
What Houston was feeling now, Berry had already been through:
Denial. Anger. Bargaining. Depression. Acceptance.
He had reached acceptance. Or at least, he was trying.
Berry didn't respond to Houston. Instead, he reached into his pocket and walked over to Lance. He opened his hand. Inside was a single quarter.
"Rookie… I'm sorry I couldn't keep my word."
"That bet… I lost."
Bitterness, sadness, pain—but still, Berry forced a smile.
He wasn't grieving anymore. He had accepted it. He had found peace.
Lance shook his head and refused the coin.
Berry's eyes flickered with hesitation, and he pleaded softly, "Rookie… a bet's a bet. You kept your promise. I let you down."
Lance shook his head again. "No. This isn't the end."
Berry froze.
Lance said it again, firr this ti. "Eric, this isn't the end. It shouldn't end like this."
From a past life to this one, Lance had learned that the greatest reward in this journey wasn't fa or wins—it was the journey itself.
The teammates. The fans. The highs and lows. The setbacks and the triumphs. The failures and the fights.
He had tasted the sweetness of victory and the bitterness of defeat. And in the end, it was all part of life.
We only get one life. Better to burn brightly and fall than never have burned at all. In the final monts, we should be able to look back and say proudly, without regret:
I lived. I tried. I do not regret.
Even if the end ant broken bones and shattered dreams—so what?
Even if you fall one step before the top of the mountain—so what?
Because the blood, the sweat, the brotherhood, the grind—that was the real treasure.
So Berry's effort wasn't in vain. It never was. And it should never be seen as failure.
This wasn't right.
Lance took a deep breath and stood tall again.
"Eric, this isn't over."
"Let tell you what's going to happen."
"You'll have surgery. You'll go through months of brutal rehab. You'll question if it's worth it. You'll want to quit. You'll hate the pain, hate the doctors, maybe even hate us. You'll wonder if it's all a waste. If you made the wrong choice."
"But…"
"You'll keep going."
"Because you're not alone."
As the words fell, Mahos stepped behind Lance, standing tall, eyes fixed on Berry.
This wouldn't be easy.
They all knew that. Outsiders might say "just push through," but they knew better.
Ten months was easy to say—but it ant ten months of lonely nights, crawling through pain toward an uncertain future.
But they'd be with him.
Because they understood. Because they were brothers in arms. Because they knew what this fight ant.
And they would fight beside him.
Then ca Kelce.
Then Houston.
Then Smith.
One by one, they stepped forward and ford a semicircle around Berry.
There was no eting. No signal. No plan.
Just unity.
They weren't all friends. Not all of them liked each other. But in that mont—it didn't matter.
Even—
"The Island King" Revis.
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Powerstones?
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