“It wasn’t a playbook. It wasn’t game plans or strategies. It was something far more personal.”

That’s how one of Patrick Mahomes’ former college classmates described the mysterious notebook he once saw Patrick carrying around campus. While most athletes filled theirs with diagrams, drills, and motivational quotes from coaches, Patrick’s notebook was something else entirely — a quiet collection of thoughts written not for the quarterback he was becoming, but for the father he hoped to be one day.

The friend didn’t think much of it at first. It was a small, beat-up notebook — nothing flashy. But one afternoon, after a long study session in the dorm lounge, Patrick left it on the table. Out of curiosity, his friend flipped it open, expecting plays or maybe notes from class.

Instead, he found a page that read:
“If your child asks why you’re not home, hug them first. Then explain.”

It wasn’t a one-off quote. Every page was like that — not rules or reminders, but gentle, emotional prompts. Little philosophies for the kind of father Patrick imagined he might become.

There were lines like:
“Never raise your voice when your child makes a mistake. They’re learning from you — even when you’re not teaching.”
“Be the kind of man your child wants to run to when they’re scared, not hide from.”
“Call home just to say you miss them. They might not say it back right away, but they’ll remember you did.”

At the time, Patrick was barely 20 years old. He hadn’t even declared for the NFL Draft. He was still juggling lectures, practices, and the pressures of college life. But in between all of that, he made time to write these notes — quiet promises to a future child he hadn’t even met yet.

Years later, that notebook still exists.

Tucked away in a drawer next to his bed, Patrick keeps it close — not because he needs it, but because it reminds him of who he set out to be long before the fame, the trophies, or the spotlight. It’s worn now, the pages slightly yellowed, the corners soft from years of use. But the words haven’t faded.

People often talk about how prepared Patrick is on the field — how he can read defenses in seconds, how he stays calm under pressure, how he always seems two moves ahead. But maybe what’s more impressive is how long he’s been preparing for life off the field — as a dad, a husband, a man who knew early on that legacy isn’t just about what you win, but about how you love.

He’s never shown the notebook publicly. No Instagram posts. No interviews about it. Even close friends only know of it through passing mentions or glimpses during road trips. But those who have seen it say it explains a lot — not about his game, but about his heart.

Today, Patrick has two children. And while he’s become one of the most recognizable faces in sports, those who know him best say the role he cares about most is the one with no jersey: Dad.

Maybe that’s why he’s often seen carrying his daughter Sterling on the sidelines. Why he pauses interviews to wave at her. Why he makes a point to say her name in post-game shoutouts. And maybe — just maybe — why he still writes in that notebook from time to time.

Because for Patrick Mahomes, fatherhood wasn’t something that started the day his daughter was born. It started quietly, in a dorm room, with a pen and a few simple words meant for a child he hadn’t yet met — but already loved more than anything.

And those words?
They’re still waiting in the drawer, just a reach away, for the moments he needs to remember not the player he became — but the man he always promised to be.