Retired Coach Who Trained Patrick Mahomes Now Lives in Poverty—Patrick Reaction Will Shock You!

Patrick Mahomes leaned back in the leather seat of his car, skimming over the day’s packed schedule. There were press interviews, a foundation meeting, and a quick appearance at a charity gala. His life was a perpetual race from one obligation to the next. With the engine idling, he took a moment to peer through the tinted window at a bustling Chicago street. Pedestrians hurried past rows of shops and restaurants, lost in their own worries.

Suddenly, something in the crowd made him pause. Just beyond a lamppost, a figure sat on the sidewalk: an older man with frayed clothes and slumped shoulders. His head was bowed, and he clutched a small bag like a lifeline. At first, Mahomes felt only a pang of sympathy—Chicago was home to many people who’d fallen on hard times. But then a jolt of recognition hit him like a punch in the gut.

His mind flashed back decades: the squeak of sneakers in a high school gym, the echo of a booming voice that demanded excellence, the feel of sweaty jersey fabric clinging to his young frame. Heart pounding, Mahomes whispered, “Coach Reynolds?”

He let the name hang in the air, disbelief coursing through him. Could that really be the man who had once shaped him into the competitor he was? The man who’d forced him to run extra drills, stay after practice to refine every detail, and never accept anything less than his very best?

He leaned forward in the car. The angles of the man’s face, the line of his jaw—yes, it had to be him. But that possibility felt inconceivable. Mahomes rapped his knuckles on the partition that separated him from the driver. “Stop the car,” he commanded, urgency in his tone.

Before the driver could fully comply, Mahomes pushed the door open, stepping onto the sidewalk. The older man didn’t look up. His posture screamed of exhaustion, his clothes worn thin against the chill.

Mahomes crouched down. “Coach,” he said softly. “Coach Reynolds?”

The man lifted his head slowly, revealing sunken eyes and a deeply lined face. It took him a moment to focus. Then, astonishment flickered across his features, replaced by a trembling recognition. “Patrick?”

It felt surreal. For a long moment, neither spoke. Mahomes’s eyes misted with memories: the crack of a football against turf, Coach Reynolds barking orders to perfect each play, the unwavering belief in a lanky teen’s potential. Now, the once-powerful, commanding man seemed frail, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Patrick,” Coach Reynolds repeated, tears threatening to spill onto his cheeks. “I never thought I’d see you again, son.”

Mahomes swallowed against the knot in his throat. “Coach, what happened?”

Coach Reynolds lowered his gaze. His voice was thick with shame and fatigue. “I lost my wife three years ago. Medical bills destroyed my savings. Then the school downsized their athletic program. They let me go.” He gave a bitter laugh that turned into a cough. “Couldn’t land another coaching job. Who wants an old man who can’t promise championships anymore?”

Mahomes’s stomach clenched. This was the man who had preached discipline, hammered home the idea that giving up was never an option, and shaped future athletes with meager resources. And now, the world had cast him aside.

“Why didn’t you call me?” Mahomes asked, voice shaking with frustration and sorrow.

Coach Reynolds tried to straighten, meeting Mahomes’s gaze with pride. “How could I? I always taught you to stand on your own two feet, to fight your own battles. I couldn’t bring myself to beg for help.”

Mahomes glanced at the small bag the coach held—probably his only possessions. Guilt churned in his chest. Why hadn’t he checked on his mentor? He’d visited hometown coaches and teachers before, but somehow lost touch with Reynolds in the swirl of fame.

He gently laid a hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Coach,” he said, “come on. Let’s get you something to eat.”

Patrick guided his old mentor to a nearby diner, ignoring the stares from passersby who recognized him. They slid into a corner booth, and Mahomes ordered two plates piled high with eggs, bacon, toast—everything he recalled Coach loving back in the day.

Yet when the food arrived, Coach Reynolds hesitated. His hands shook around the fork. It was as though he couldn’t accept kindness after years of scraping by. Mahomes waited patiently, letting the old man take a few cautious bites.

“Talk to me,” Mahomes said gently. “You coached me to always face the truth, no matter how hard.”

Coach Reynolds released a shaky breath, then recounted his unsteady descent: after his wife’s illness drained their funds, he tried to keep teaching, but budget cuts axed his position. He used up whatever resources he had, eventually getting evicted when he couldn’t meet rent. Proud by nature, he avoided shelters unless absolutely necessary, drifting through side jobs until his body simply couldn’t handle the labor anymore.

Mahomes listened, fists clenched under the table. This fate was an injustice inflicted on one of the greatest influences in his life—maybe in the lives of countless students who had passed through his gym or practice field.

As Reynolds finished speaking, Mahomes noticed he hadn’t even touched half his meal. The coach was lost in emotion, perhaps unsure if this kindness was fleeting—if tomorrow he’d be back on the street.

Slowly, Mahomes stood and pulled his phone from his jacket. He dialed a number. “John,” he said, voice tight, “I need immediate arrangements. I don’t care what it costs or how fast we have to move.”

Coach Reynolds looked confused. “Patrick?”

Mahomes ended the call and slipped the phone away, gaze steady. “Coach, you taught me never to quit, no matter the odds. Now I’m going to make sure you never feel abandoned again.”

Anxiety crept into the older man’s eyes. “You’ve done enough by just listening. I can’t ask for—”

Mahomes cut him off. “You didn’t ask. I’m doing this because you deserve it.”

He offered his hand, and though Coach Reynolds seemed reluctant, he eventually slid out of the booth. Mahomes led him back outside, where the driver stood waiting. “We’re heading to a place I arranged,” Mahomes said, nodding to the driver. “Let’s go.”

They pulled up to a modest but well-kept apartment building. Night had fallen, and only a few lights glowed in the windows. Mahomes stepped out first, helping Coach Reynolds out of the car.

“This is temporary,” Mahomes said, guiding him into the lobby. “Until something more permanent is set. For now, think of it as your own space.”

The front desk clerk handed Coach Reynolds a key, eyes wide with recognition at the superstar. Mahomes nudged the older man toward the elevator. In less than five minutes, they stood before a door. Mahomes encouraged Reynolds to unlock it.

Inside was a furnished one-bedroom suite. Nothing extravagant—just a comfortable couch, a small kitchen, a warm bed with fresh linens. Reynolds stared at it, tears filling his eyes again.

“I—I don’t know what to say,” he stammered, voice thick with gratitude.

Mahomes rested a hand on his shoulder. “Say you’ll let me take care of you, the way you took care of me when I was a scrawny kid who thought I’d never measure up.”

Reynolds sank onto the couch, almost disbelieving. Mahomes looked around, making a silent vow that his coach would never be neglected again.

By morning, news had spread. Someone had filmed Mahomes escorting Coach Reynolds off the sidewalk the day before. The footage blazed across social media: Patrick Mahomes Reunites with Homeless Coach—What Happens Next Will Break Your Heart.

Reporters swarmed, trying to glean details. Fans flooded message boards with praise. But Mahomes didn’t hold a press conference. His focus was on the man he called “Coach,” ensuring medical checkups, groceries, and other essentials arrived promptly.

Yet the story wouldn’t remain private for long. A local sports journalist, determined to get the full account, discovered the identity of “Coach Reynolds”—a beloved high school mentor who had shaped many future athletes. The article detailing his downfall and Mahomes’s rescue went viral, evoking both tears and admiration.

Within a week, Mahomes took things a step further. He’d quietly set up the Reynolds Legacy Fund, aimed at supporting retired coaches and teachers who’d given their lives to shaping young people but ended up in financial ruin.

During a low-key unveiling ceremony, Mahomes stood behind a podium with Coach Reynolds by his side. Only a handful of media outlets were present, at Mahomes’s request—he wanted sincerity, not spectacle.

Clearing his throat, Mahomes nodded toward his mentor. “A lot of us have people who believed in us before the world did. Sometimes, those people get left behind. I won’t let that happen to Coach Reynolds, or to anyone else like him.”

Coach Reynolds leaned into the microphone. “I spent my life pushing kids to be the best. That was enough for me. I never imagined someone would remember me like this.”

A hush followed, then applause that grew into a standing ovation.

Coach Reynolds soon found himself at the heart of the Reynolds Legacy Fund, sharing his story at community centers and youth programs. He lectured on discipline and perseverance—not just on the field, but in life. Meanwhile, Mahomes often joined him, demonstrating drills or recounting an anecdote from high school practice.

One such afternoon, they stood together in a brightly lit gym where a new generation of aspiring players waited to soak in any wisdom. Coach Reynolds, looking healthier than he had in years, took hold of the microphone.

“I taught Patrick never to give up,” he said, voice resonating with renewed conviction. “And he didn’t. He achieved more than I ever dreamed. But the most important lesson I ever gave him was to remember where he came from. And he did.”

Mahomes, moved by his mentor’s words, took a small football in hand, showing the assembled kids the basics of a perfect spiral. Applause echoed through the space.

Afterward, the two men stepped off the field, walking side by side. Coach Reynolds smiled. “You still have that smooth throw, kid.”

Mahomes grinned back. “Only because of you, Coach.”

They paused at the edge of the field, looking over the young athletes running through drills, fueled by the same dreams that once propelled Mahomes’s rise. In that moment, the pair understood that real success isn’t measured by awards or sponsorships—it’s measured by the lives touched, by how much one gives back.

Though the world knew Patrick Mahomes for his victories and star power, he knew his greatest triumph was right here: honoring the man who first believed in him, ensuring Coach Reynolds would never again feel forgotten or alone.

Patrick Mahomes’ Trainer Says There Are Benefits to His ‘Dad Bod’: ‘I Don’t Need Him to Look Like a Model’ 

Trainer Bobby Stroupe says he keeps the NFL star in football shape using unconventional training methods including gymnastics and martial arts exercises

Patrick Mahomes training with Bobby Stroupe. Photo: 

Bobby Stroupe

Patrick Mahomes was just 9 years old when he started working with his trainer Bobby Stroupe. Now, 20 years later with three Super Bowl wins and two MVP awards under his belt, the Kansas City Chiefs quarterback has a regimen locked in with the sports coach.

Stroupe — founder and president of the Athlete Performance Enhancement Center (APEC) — recently shared his and Mahomes’ fitness methods and why, despite the jokes, the NFL star’s “dad bod” is actually good to have.

“As far as our approach, I call it the cake system because — I’m really corny — but basically there’s eight layers to this,” he explains. “There’s eight different things that we focus on: movement literacy, force absorption, force transmission, pattern stability, tissue resiliency, mobility, stability and flexibility.”

Stroupe and Mahomes try to train four or five days a week during the off-season. But since the 29-year-old has a family and a busy schedule, they work with the time they have. Some days, Stroupe says, they train for more than four hours; other workouts last 90 minutes.

“During the season it is a different situation because football is the priority. The big days for us are the day after the game,” he continues. “When most people are resting the day after the game, we really work. There’s about three to three and a half hours worth of soft tissue work, mobility work, range of motion work, and just general health. Trying to make sure that the 26 bones in your foot, the 640 muscles, the 12 fascial lines, everything’s got to be in working order.”

Additionally, Stroupe has relied on unconventional training methods with Mahomes, such as gymnastics and javelin-based workouts, as well as martial arts exercises.

“There are some things that you would not think that an NFL quarterback would be doing, but we’ve found that Patrick responds really well to this system and this approach,” he says.

Stroupe says he knows there have recently been jokes on social media — even from Mahomes himself — about the Chiefs star’s “dad bod,” but weight and body composition have long been on his radar.

In fact, he says, a dad bod can actually be healthy for some people.

“I’ll be the first to tell you that I think an NFL quarterback should have at least 14% body fat,” Stroupe says. “It’s not from an unhealthy standpoint, but from a force absorption standpoint. You have to be able to take contact.”

“We know there’s just not a lot of quarterbacks in the Hall of Fame that have a six-pack and there’s a reason for that. We’ve got to find that fine line of performance and health. And the aesthetic part is a different conversation,” he explains. “I don’t need him to look like a model because the way he chooses to play requires a certain type of physicality, and that physicality needs more body fat. That is a core belief that I do have for him.”

Patrick Homes.David Rosenblum/Icon Sportswire via Getty

In addition to fitness, Stroupe — who trains several NFL and MLB players — stresses the importance of diet and nutrition with his athletes. Nutrition, he says, can either work as a gas pedal or a brake depending on how much it’s prioritized.

“The quality and sources of our food, drinks, and everything down to our caffeine sources plays a role in performance,” he notes.

Stroupe says that with Mahomes, they’ve relied heavily on Throne SPORT COFFEE, which was created by business owner Michael Fedele in partnership with the quarterback.

“Patrick’s always been someone that has coffee first thing in the morning. But one of the challenges that he had was, I also wanted him to take some shakes to add different amino acids and protein and other things that I felt were important.”

Stroupe says that turning to the product removed the “give and take” between he and Mahomes, allowing the NFL star to have his coffee while getting the nutritional benefits the trainer wanted him to get. “It was a no-brainer for us,” he adds.

Patrick Mahomes.

Throne SPORT COFFEE

Now, as Mahomes is playing in his eighth NFL season, Stroupe tells PEOPLE that the star’s mantra has been “be the best you” to achieve longevity in his football career.

“He’s one of the most unique athletes that we’ve ever seen in any sport in all time and he’s got to focus on being Patrick,” Stroupe says. “If he were to try to emulate Peyton Manning or Tom Brady, we wouldn’t have the benefit of watching someone like him play this game on this level.”

“And no matter how many rings he wins, no matter how many MVPs, every game we can identify things that he can do better,” he adds. “There’s unlimited opportunity to improve.”