Two hours before the AFC championship kicked off late Sunday, the private coach behind the otherworldly quarterback stared out at parking lots stuffed with Kansas City Chiefs fans. Jeff Christensen stood on the fourth floor, near the suite entrances at GEHA Field. Smoke wafted from so many barbecue grills below. Breath floated from so many mouths.
Christensen simply shook his head—at the setting, this run, Kansas City now on the verge of the first three-peat in the Super Bowl era, all powered by his client, quarterback. “You know what no one’s talking about?” he says. “I don’t want to be a jinx here … but in his last 23 games, Pat is .”
He’s presented with a series of other story lines—that Kansas City has never been healthier for a Mahomes playoff run; that its offense, reconfigured on the fly, is now more talented than any Chiefs unit since Tyreek Hill departed in 2022; and that, in this season, in comparison to all other recent seasons, the Chiefs didn’t wait until January to confront their greatest obstacles. This season, they dealt with those far , instead.
Christensen affirmed all plot points. None mattered beyond the statistic he first laid out. Patrick Mahomes is inevitable. He’s death (to the Super Bowl dreams of other AFC franchises). He’s taxes (billed to every defense that tries to stop him, especially this time of year). In a league designed to make sustained success as difficult as possible, if not impossible, Mahomes is also unfazed, unflappable, and, against the Buffalo Bills in the postseason, still even after Sunday night.
The quarterback and his whisperer last met on Christensen’s birthday, Jan. 8, and the following day. Do not mistake that for any sort of necessary tune-up—they’d done that months earlier, after an uneven season remained that way into November. Christensen turned 65 that day. When Mahomes learned of this birthday training session, he asked Christensen if they should reschedule. The response: This marked the best celebration Christensen could ever dream up.
“He probably looks at me like a quasi-grandpa right now,” Christensen says. “It’s like we’re just playing catch in the backyard.”
He adds, unnecessarily, the real present. Mahomes, his coach says, “threw the ball incredibly well.” He smiles when he says that, while facing away from the field, knowing that much of the world will focus on it, Mahomes, Josh Allen and another chapter in this budding Chiefs-Bills rivalry soon enough.
He laughs again, this one more knowing, laden with significance he will not say. “He’s 22–1, right?” Christensen says. “What am I gonna say?”
