American Football: Domination

A tail?

Lance froze for a moment, then quickly regained his composure, patting the valet on the shoulder.

"Don't worry. Just some flies."

After speaking, Lance even turned around and confidently scanned the area, easily spotting the culprits. Across the street, two seemingly ordinary SUVs—one gray, one black—were parked inconspicuously. But Lance immediately saw through them, flashing a wide smile and waving in greeting.

Those were the paparazzi.

Ever since Lance's meteoric rise, whether the Kansas City Chiefs won or lost, discussions about him on social media never cooled down. His personal jersey sales had dominated the number-one spot for nearly two months, and since taking the top spot, no other player had come close to dethroning him.

It was worth noting that as the Los Angeles Rams and Philadelphia Eagles made strong comebacks this season, their jersey sales also surged.

Among them, Goff stood out in particular.

Thanks to his resemblance to Hollywood actor Ryan Gosling, Goff's good looks won him countless female fans. Playing for the Los Angeles Rams, he naturally drew even more attention in the star-studded city.

To some extent, Goff's popularity far exceeded Wentz's.

However!

Even Goff, despite launching several attempts to surpass Lance in jersey sales, always fell short, consistently ending up in second place.

This situation even made headlines in official NFL reports. The Los Angeles Rams' official account reposted the story, encouraging their fans to buy more of Goff's jerseys. Eventually, the Kansas City Chiefs—known for their lackluster marketing—jumped on the bandwagon and made their own post, triggering another wave of jersey sales.

Now, it seemed like half of Kansas City owned a #23 jersey.

But the real reason Lance continued to dominate, even against the strong market of Los Angeles, lay in the support from the Chinese market.

Fans there showed incredible enthusiasm. Even during the Chiefs' six-game losing streak, Lance's consistently excellent performances kept earning him praise.

This once again proved that Lance was currently the league's biggest draw.

And so, the paparazzi appeared.

Not just today—paparazzi had been spotted weeks ago, trying to uncover secrets about Lance's private life.

Last time, Lance even caught them rummaging through his trash.

Instead of getting angry, Lance felt sympathy for them. He knew they wouldn't find anything. Life as a paparazzo wasn't easy, so he chose not to make it harder for them. Instead, he shouted, "If you need my trash, I can leave it out front next time. How about you sort it for me and then help me take it out?"

The two paparazzi fled as if they'd seen a ghost.

Earlier, at the practice facility, while the reporters were swarming Lance, the paparazzi were likely lurking in the shadows, ready to follow him at the first opportunity.

Now, judging by the valet's expression, it was clear he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Paparazzi in Kansas City? This wasn't Los Angeles, New York, Houston, or Seattle. Even flies might find this place too boring to visit.

This had to be the first time in history that paparazzi showed interest in Kansas City.

Still, Lance remained calm. Without making a fuss, he smiled warmly and waved at them.

"Hey, it might rain later. Don't forget your umbrellas."

And then, the valet witnessed the most astonishing scene of his life.

The two paparazzi, in their SUVs—one in front of the other—shouldn't have been able to see each other. Yet, as if on cue, they reacted the same way: both slumped back into their seats, shoulders hunched, and with a clack, they reclined their seats flat, vanishing into their cars as if swallowed by black holes.

It happened so quickly that in the blink of an eye, the two living, breathing people were gone. Their synchronized movements clearly came from years of practice.

The valet looked back at Lance, who was smiling confidently, then at the now-empty driver's seats of the SUVs. He felt like he had just discovered a new continent.

Wait, these were paparazzi? That's it? Where were the ferocious faces and six arms they were supposed to have?

As the valet stared in amazement, Lance strode confidently into the Marriott Hotel.

At that moment, the valet saw something even stranger.

From one of the SUVs, like a groundhog peeking out of its burrow, a paparazzo cautiously emerged. He scanned the surroundings and, upon seeing Lance's back as he entered the hotel lobby, immediately sprang into action:

Open the door. Shut the door. Sprint. Cross the street.

The sequence of movements was as smooth as an Olympic pentathlon final. The paparazzo, now in full predator mode, dashed across the street with the grace of a cheetah, completely shedding his earlier timid demeanor.

A few seconds later, the second paparazzo followed suit.

Lance? The so-called training fanatic? The monk-like player who only traveled between his home and the practice field? He was now at the Marriott Hotel after practice. Why?

The two paparazzi had been tailing Lance for a while but had found nothing—just dull routines that put them to sleep. Lance's disciplined lifestyle had exhausted them both mentally and physically.

But now, at last, there was a glimmer of hope. The two paparazzi were buzzing with excitement.

Could it be… Lance was here for a secret rendezvous?

The quicker paparazzo reached the hotel first but didn't rush in. Instead, he surveyed the lobby and slipped a $20 bill into the valet's hand.

"What did Lance just say?"

The valet glanced at the bill, pocketed it nonchalantly, and replied, "Who?"

Paparazzo: ???

"That wasn't Lance," the valet said.

The paparazzo's eyes widened in disbelief. Was this guy serious? "You—you…"

Was the bribe too small?

The paparazzo hesitated, then pulled out another $20 and handed it over. "Was Lance alone? No one else in the car? Which floor did he go to?"

The valet calmly smoothed out the bill, folded it neatly, and slipped it into his pocket. "That really wasn't Lance. Just an ordinary guest. Do you want to know about him? He was alone. No one else in the car. I didn't see which floor he went to."

The paparazzo stared at his money, which was essentially gone for good, and then at the valet.

The valet smiled brightly, as if saying, At your service, and left the paparazzo speechless.

At that moment, the second paparazzo arrived. "Hey, what floor is he on?"

The first paparazzo just shook his head helplessly.

The second one immediately understood. Without hesitation, he pulled out a $100 bill and handed it to the valet. "Lance. What floor?"

The valet, just as calmly, folded the bill and put it in his pocket. "That really wasn't Lance."

Paparazzo #1: …

Paparazzo #2: …

The valet, still smiling innocently, asked, "Anything else I can help you with?"

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Powerstones?

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