"One. Two. Three. Four."
Strength and conditioning coach Barry Rubin didn't even bother with a whistle. His raspy voice echoed across the training field, loud and explosive enough to dominate the space. All players, without exception, followed his commands—one command, one action.
The drill? A deceptively simple warm-up designed to get every muscle in the body moving.
Basic Position: High knees, alternating quick taps with the toes, keeping light and nimble.
Commands:
Turn left: Knees rotate left, upper body steady, then reset.
Turn right: Knees rotate right, then reset.
Drop: Full burpee to the ground.
Plank kick: Left knee toward the chest.
Repeat: Right knee toward the chest.
6–7. Alternate plank kicks again.
Stand up: Return to standing position.
Jumping jacks: Get the heart racing.
Reset: Back to high knees.
From one to ten, the players performed a grueling sequence that elevated a simple burpee to a new level of torment.
It seemed easy—until the 30-minute duration was revealed.
The Toll
It didn't take long for the strain to show. By the ten-minute mark, the team's offensive and defensive linemen—towering mountains of muscle and mass—began to falter.
Linemen are typically the heaviest and least agile players on the team, built more for power than endurance. To them, Rubin's cardio-heavy drill was sheer torture.
One particularly massive lineman, dripping with sweat, ripped off his helmet and glared at head coach Andy Reid, his eyes practically screaming protest.
Soon, other linemen followed suit, removing their helmets in silent rebellion.
Reid, however, didn't flinch. His expression remained unreadable.
Rubin's sharp voice cut through the tension.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"
His voice cracked like a whip.
"Put those helmets back on! Right now! If anyone so much as pauses, we'll extend the session by 30 minutes. I don't bluff—so move!"
Rubin's spit flew as he barked, his intimidating presence causing even the angriest linemen to hesitate. Under the glaring sun, they were visibly on the verge of collapse but begrudgingly complied, strapping their helmets back on to avoid invoking Rubin's wrath—or worse, incurring the wrath of their teammates, who were already struggling to maintain the relentless pace.
"Five. Six. Seven. Eight."
Rubin's gravelly voice kept the tempo as the team soldiered on.
It was clear, however, that several linemen were nearing their limits. Their high-knee stepping slowed to a crawl, their massive bodies trembling with exertion.
Watching from the sidelines, assistant coach Brad Childress couldn't hide his concern.
"Coach, isn't this a bit much?" he asked Reid.
Reid shared Childress's unease but remained resolute.
The stakes were high. The Chiefs hadn't advanced deep into the playoffs in years, and the pressure was mounting. Critics questioned Reid's ability to lead the team to a Super Bowl and mocked the Chiefs' offseason decisions, particularly their controversial draft picks: an unproven running back in Lance and an unheralded quarterback in Patrick Mahomes.
Reid needed to ensure his team was mentally tough and focused—capable of shutting out external distractions and rising to the occasion.
"Watch," Reid replied simply, his eyes scanning the field.
Breaking Point
Finally, one player collapsed. His leg seized up in a painful cramp, sending him sprawling to the ground with a loud groan.
Medical staff rushed to his aid as Rubin shook his head in disappointment.
"These millionaires," Rubin muttered under his breath, "pampered their whole careers. No grit. No fight. And they wonder why they fold under playoff pressure."
Rubin turned his attention back to the remaining players.
"Picture this," he yelled. "It's the fourth quarter of a playoff game. Two minutes left. You're dead tired, and so is your opponent. Victory's within reach, but so is defeat. You think the other team's just gonna hand you the win? What, you think you're royalty? Maybe they'll bow down to your greatness, huh?"
His tone grew harsher.
"NO. You want it? You fight for it. So, what's it gonna be? Lie down like babies or stand tall and fight? Victory has to be earned. Are you ready to earn it?"
Rubin's voice was merciless, his commands relentless.
"One! Two! Three! Four!"
Sweat poured. Muscles burned.
Who Remains?
Lance was laser-focused, giving the drill everything he had. Despite the intense conditioning from his personal training team, he underestimated the sheer physical toll of NFL-level training.
Slowly but surely, players began dropping out, one by one. By the end, only three remained:
Lance
Kareem Hunt
Travis Kelce (the veteran tight end)
Even starting quarterback Alex Smith lasted until nearly the very end, surprising many. Though often criticized for lacking a killer instinct, Smith showed remarkable grit, refusing medical help when he finally faltered. Instead, he staggered off the field under his own power, earning quiet nods of respect from his teammates.
Mahomes, meanwhile, had also held out longer than most but eventually succumbed to exhaustion. Despite this, he remained cheerful, joining other rookies on the sidelines to cheer on the remaining competitors.
Unintentionally, the drill evolved into a showdown between rookies and veterans.
The tension was palpable.
Old vs. New
As Kelce pushed through the final minutes, his experience and determination were on full display. He had nothing to prove—his All-Pro resume spoke for itself—but his pride wouldn't let him yield to two rookies.
Meanwhile, Lance and Hunt both refused to back down.
Hunt, in particular, seemed fueled by a personal vendetta. He was determined to prove that the Chiefs didn't need Lance. Every movement screamed defiance, as if to say, "I'm the better running back."
Lance, however, wasn't competing against Hunt or Kelce. His focus was internal. For him, this was a test of his own limits—a chance to prove to himself that he belonged here.
Step by step, breath by breath, the final three pushed forward.
The sun blazed. Sweat dripped. Muscles screamed.
Yet none of them wavered.
This wasn't just a drill anymore. It was a battle.
----------
Powerstones?
For 20 advance chapters: patreon.com/michaeltranslates