Nobody Knew Why This Homeless Man Talked About Playing With Patrick Mahomes—Then Patrick Walked Through the Door
For years, people hurried past the homeless man outside The Daily Grind Coffee Shop, barely glancing at him as he told stories about playing football with Patrick Mahomes. Most thought he was just another street person making up tales for attention or spare change. Even when he described Mahomes’ secret practice habits or the way he could flick a football with effortless power, nobody stopped to really listen. Nobody, except 12-year-old Sarah Chen.
Sarah didn’t know why she believed him when everyone else walked away. Maybe it was the way his eyes lit up when he talked about the game, or maybe it was how he knew things that weren’t in any book or documentary. Or maybe it was just that Sarah had always been good at seeing the truth in people. She never imagined that her curiosity would uncover a 40-year-old mystery—one that would bring the greatest quarterback of all time to a small church field in Chicago, searching for the friend and mentor he’d spent decades trying to find.
This is the story of Marcus Johnson, the man who helped shape Mahomes’ legendary career, then disappeared into the shadows of his own tragedy. And it all began on an ordinary morning outside a coffee shop, with a homeless man’s tales that nobody believed.
The morning sun hadn’t yet peaked over the tall buildings of downtown Chicago when Marcus settled into his usual spot outside The Daily Grind. His weathered hands clutched a thin cardboard sign that read: ANY HELP APPRECIATED. GOD BLESS. But unlike the other homeless people in the area, Marcus wasn’t just asking for money—he was telling stories.
“You see, young man,” Marcus called out to a boy walking past with his father, “I once played football with the greatest quarterback of all time.”
The boy tugged at his father’s sleeve. “Dad, he’s talking about Patrick Mahomes!”
“Keep walking, Tommy,” the father muttered, pulling his son along. “He’s just making up stories.”
Marcus didn’t seem bothered by their reaction. He just smiled and adjusted the worn Chiefs cap on his head, the red so faded it was almost pink. His belongings sat neatly beside him—a backpack that had seen better days, a thin blanket, and an old water bottle. Most people pretended not to see him, but Marcus kept talking anyway, his stories floating on the wind like fallen leaves.
Sarah first noticed Marcus on her way to the coffee shop with her mom. Unlike the other homeless people she’d seen, he didn’t just ask for money—he told stories with such detail, such life in his voice, that they seemed to paint pictures in the air. The next morning, Sarah convinced her mom to stop at The Daily Grind again. Marcus was there as always, this time talking to a teenage boy wearing a Chiefs jersey.
“You should have seen his hands,” Marcus was saying, spreading his own fingers wide. “Patrick could grip the ball like it was nothing. But it wasn’t just the size—it was how he used them, the control he had. That was something special.”
The teenager leaned against the wall, actually listening. “Everyone knows Mahomes has a cannon for an arm. That’s common knowledge.”
Marcus chuckled, a sound like gravel under tires. “Sure, everyone knows that now. But I’m talking about before the Super Bowls, before the fame. Back when he was just Patrick, a rookie trying to prove himself. Did you know he used to practice with weighted footballs? Said it made the real thing feel lighter during games.”
Sarah’s eyes widened. She’d never heard that before—and she’d watched every Mahomes documentary with her dad, who was a huge football fan.
The next morning, Sarah brought Marcus a blueberry muffin. His face lit up with genuine surprise. “Thank you. That’s very kind,” he said, taking the bag carefully as if it were made of glass.
“Could you tell me more about when you played with Mahomes?” Sarah asked, sitting down on the sidewalk next to him.
“You’re different from most people who pass by,” Marcus said. “Most don’t stop to listen. They just hear Mahomes and think I’m crazy. Maybe I am a little bit, but not about this.”
For the next fifteen minutes, Marcus told Sarah about practice sessions in an empty gym, the squeak of cleats on turf, and the way Mahomes would study game tapes for hours, looking for the smallest advantages. “He had this move,” Marcus said, his eyes distant with memory, “where he’d fake a throw, then whip it sidearm to a receiver nobody else even saw. The real trick was in his eyes—they’d tell a different story than his feet. Used to drive defenders crazy.”
Sarah recorded every detail, catching the inflection in Marcus’s voice, the way he described things so specifically and vividly.
Later, Sarah found an old photograph in Marcus’s possession. It showed a college football team from 2016—the uniforms strange and old-fashioned. There in the back row was a face she recognized: younger, clean-shaven, but unmistakably Marcus. And standing next to him, grinning at the camera, was Patrick Mahomes.
Sarah’s research revealed that Marcus had played at Texas Tech with Mahomes, even mentored him as a backup quarterback. But an injury—an ugly fall during practice—ended Marcus’s career before the NFL draft. Worse, a family tragedy soon after left him reeling. His wife and daughter were killed in a car accident on their way to one of his games. The grief was too much; Marcus disappeared, leaving behind a promising football future and a friend who never stopped looking for him.
Sarah’s mom, a reporter, helped her dig deeper. They discovered that Mahomes had spoken in interviews about a college mentor who “taught me more about the mental side of football in two months than I learned in my entire career.” But the man’s name was never mentioned—until now.
One afternoon, Sarah found a note from Marcus: “You remind me of my daughter. Meet me at the old field behind St. Mary’s Church at 4 p.m. today. Bring your mom.”
When Sarah and her mom arrived, Marcus was waiting. He shared his story—about his family, his guilt, his escape from a life that hurt too much to face. “The only thing I kept was the memory of football, of playing with Patrick. Those were the last happy memories I had.”
Just then, a black SUV pulled up. Out stepped Patrick Mahomes himself, older but instantly recognizable.
For a long moment, no one spoke. Then Mahomes crossed the field, his eyes never leaving Marcus’s face. “I’ve been looking for you for years, Marcus,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
“I’m sorry, Patrick. I couldn’t face anyone, not after what happened.”
“You don’t owe me an apology,” Mahomes replied. “You owe yourself one. You taught me everything. Now it’s time to come home.”
Mahomes offered Marcus a job with the Chiefs’ youth program, teaching kids the game he loved. At first, Marcus hesitated—but Sarah’s encouragement and Mahomes’ faith in him finally broke through.
Three months later, Sarah watched Marcus coach a group of young players in Kansas City. His smile was bright, his eyes full of life. Mahomes stopped by often to help, but everyone knew Marcus was the real teacher.
Now, when people passed The Daily Grind and noticed Marcus’s empty spot, they didn’t just hurry by. They stopped and told their own stories about the homeless man who used to talk about playing with Patrick Mahomes. And these days, they ended their stories differently: “You know what? He was telling the truth all along.”
Because sometimes, the most unbelievable stories turn out to be true. Sometimes, lost friends find their way back to each other. And sometimes, a simple game of football can heal even the deepest wounds—especially when played with an open heart and a perfect spiral.
