Patrick Mahomes See a Homeless Veteran Plays a Harmonica—What He Discovers Leaves Everyone in Tears

The subway station was a forgotten artery beneath the city, echoing with the heavy shuffle of commuters and the distant rumble of trains. It smelled of concrete, rain, and tired dreams. Patrick Mahomes, bundled in a simple jacket and ball cap, stepped off the last stair, his sneakers tapping softly against the cracked tiles. He was here for a charity shoot—just a few photos for a campaign to raise awareness about homelessness among veterans.

He barely made it twenty feet before he heard it: the raw, aching notes of a harmonica. The music wasn’t polished or showy, but it was beautiful in its brokenness. Patrick turned, drawn by the sound, and saw an old man tucked into a corner beside a broken vending machine. His jacket was threadbare, his boots mismatched, his white hair tangled. Yet his hands moved with surprising tenderness over the battered harmonica.

He wasn’t playing for coins—there was no hat, no sign. He was playing for no one and everyone.

Patrick stopped, rooted in place. The camera crew’s distant voices faded. Something about the music tugged at him, a feeling he couldn’t name.

People hurried past the man, barely glancing at him. Patrick watched, heart aching at the way the world moved past the music, past the man, as if neither existed.

Without thinking, Patrick turned and walked back up the stairs. At a coffee shop on the corner, he ordered two hot coffees. When they were ready, he hurried back down to the station, the cups warm in his hands.

The man was still there, still playing, still invisible. Patrick approached quietly, careful not to startle him, and offered one of the coffees.

The old man looked up, surprised. His eyes were pale blue, clouded but sharp. For a second, Patrick thought he might refuse, but then the man reached out with a shaking hand and accepted it.

Patrick sat beside him. The harmonica slipped quietly into the man’s lap. They sat for a long moment, two strangers, two coffees, no noise except the distant trains and the memory of the song.

The old man cradled the coffee, sighing softly. Patrick didn’t speak. He just sat there, letting the silence settle.

After a while, the man glanced over. “You don’t got to buy me anything,” he said, his voice rough but dignified.

Patrick shook his head. “Not buying anything. Just figured you might want some company.”

The man huffed, half-laughing. “Company’s a rare thing down here.”

“Maybe it’s time for rare things,” Patrick replied.

The man’s mouth twitched, almost a smile. They sat, watching the endless flow of people. Finally, the man spoke again. “Name’s Frank.”

“Patrick,” he replied, shaking Frank’s hand.

Frank gave him a long look. “You one of them sports guys? You look familiar.”

Patrick grinned. “Something like that.”

Frank nodded, then lifted the harmonica and played again. This time, the tune was softer, lower—a song of surviving, remembering, and waiting for something long past hope.

Patrick closed his eyes, letting the music seep in. It felt familiar, as if somewhere, long ago, he’d heard it before.

When Frank finished, he stared out across the empty tracks. Neither spoke for a while. Finally, Frank asked, “You ever lose someone?”

Patrick thought of his own losses—friends, teammates, people whose absence left gaps. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I have.”

Frank nodded slowly. “Funny thing about loss. Some folks carry it like a scar. Some carry it like a song.”

“Which one are you?” Patrick asked.

Frank smiled, broken and beautiful. “I tried to carry it like a song. Some days it still sounds like noise.”

Patrick’s throat tightened. He looked at the battered harmonica, the duffel bag, the way Frank’s hands rested on his knees, as if waiting for someone.

“You play for yourself?” Patrick asked.

Frank shook his head. “Not anymore.”

“Then who?”

Frank’s gaze drifted to the tracks. “A boy. Long time ago. Accident down here. Bus crash, smoke everywhere. I found a kid, maybe nine years old, pinned under a bench. I pulled him out, sat with him until help came. Played this damn harmonica so he wouldn’t be scared.”

Patrick’s breath caught. He could picture it—not the crash, but the trembling harmony under the flickering lights.

Frank glanced over. “You okay, son?”

Patrick nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he clinked his cup gently against Frank’s. “To the man with the harmonica.”

Frank smiled, surprised and touched. They sat together, letting a 25-year-old memory begin to stir.

Frank began to talk, slowly, about the war, about coming home to a world that moved on without him. About the family he lost and the years he spent convincing himself he didn’t deserve better. The harmonica was all he kept.

“Most folks don’t see it,” Frank said. “They look right through you.”

Patrick’s voice was quiet. “I see you.”

Frank looked at him, and something unspoken passed between them.

Frank told the story of the boy again, of the promise he’d made to himself: to wait, just in case. “Sounds stupid, don’t it? Some old man waiting for a ghost.”

“It’s not stupid,” Patrick said. “Maybe it’s the ones who wait who change everything.”

Frank looked away, blinking hard.

They met every Tuesday after that. Patrick brought coffee, sometimes a sandwich or a new pair of gloves. He listened as Frank shared more—about his brother lost in Vietnam, about the music that kept the ghosts at bay.

One cold morning, Patrick handed Frank a small box. Inside was a new harmonica, deep blue velvet lining the case. Frank stared at it, overcome.

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered.

“You deserve everything,” Patrick replied.

Frank played a trembling note, sweet and broken. The music filled the station, healing what had waited to heal for 25 years.

With Patrick’s help, Frank found a small apartment and started attending a music group for veterans. He taught harmonica, shared his story, and slowly, the weight he’d carried began to lift.

One Tuesday, Patrick brought his own harmonica. He played the old melody—clumsy, offbeat, but real. Frank smiled, tears shining in his eyes.

“You remember?” Frank asked softly.

“I’ll never forget,” Patrick said.

And as the city rushed by above, two men sat on a subway bench, their lives forever changed by a song that refused to be forgotten—a song of kindness, survival, and second chances.

Patrick Mahomes Reacts to Video of Himself Cracking Jokes During a Practice: ‘Out Here Talking About Nothing’

The quarterback and the rest of the Kansas City Chiefs faced a tough loss against the Jacksonville Jaguars on Saturday, Aug. 10

Patrick Mahomes. Photo: David Rosenblum/Icon Sportswire via Getty

Patrick Mahomes thinks his jokes leave something to be desired.

On Sunday, Aug. 11, the Kansas City Chiefs shared a video on their official Instagram page as a part of their “Mic’d Up” series. The video showed the star quarterback, 28, getting ready ahead of a practice — and keeping his teammates and coaches entertained with plenty of jokes and stories.

One moment in the video shows Mahomes suddenly realize that he didn’t wear his padded pants and wondering aloud if anyone will notice.

“Dude, I didn’t put my pants on,” he can be heard telling his teammates, including offensive lineman Creed Humphrey. “You think anyone notices?”

“I forgot my pants pads,” he announces to one of the team’s coaches, as they wait to work on their next play. “Maybe he’ll think my quads are so big that they look like pants.”

“I doubt it,” the coach jokes back, dryly.

Another part of the video captures Mahomes cheering on his teammates (and himself) and screaming “Out the gate!” after they completed a pass during the practice. Yet another clip features the team warming up with some top 40 tracks playing in the background.

“It’s just crazy to me how much music I don’t know out here. Like, I know I’m getting old,” Mahomes says. “I listen to all types of music, too. And I just don’t know s— out here. I ain’t never heard this song in my life.”

“QB1’s got jokes 🤣,” the Chiefs captioned the Instagram post.

In the comments, Mahomes reacted to the video, joking that he was “out here talking about nothing 😂😂😂.”

Patrick Mahomes throws a pass during the first quarter of a game against the Jaguars on Aug. 10, 2024.Kevin Sabitus/Getty

The Chiefs’ funny video series was shared just one day after the team took on the Jacksonville Jaguars on Saturday, Aug. 10, at EverBank Stadium in Jacksonville, Fla., for an NFL preseason game.

Ahead of the matchup, the Chiefs’ Instagram account posted footage of Mahomes giving his teammates a rallying speech. Another video posted by the team captured Patrick quickly signing a young fan’s T-shirt and posing for a photo with a man and a baby.

The Chiefs faced a tough defeat on Saturday, losing to the Jaguars 13-26, although several of Mahomes’ teammates — including rookie running back Carson Steele, who scored a high-energy touchdown, and controversial kicker Harrison Butker, who netted a 45-yard kick — made some solid plays.

Mahomes is currently awaiting the arrival of his third child. Just last month, his wife, Brittany, announced that she is pregnant and expecting their third baby in a joint Instagram Reel, in which she, Patrick and their kids — daughter Sterling, 3, and son Bronze, 20 months — laughed and danced around with sonograms.

“Round three, here we come 🤍,” the couple captioned the video.