April 2, 2021 – Kansas City, Missouri, USA
“Don’t park too close. We don’t want anyone seeing us getting out of your junk car,” LeVon Sykes said to his friend. “No one’s gonna believe Patrick Mahomes rides in an old Hyundai Sonata.”
“At least I got a car,” the driver replied to LeVon.
“Go around the block. Inside the garage,” urged LeVon. “And you both have to remember to call me Patrick. You gotta sell it as much as I do and make people think you’d be part of an entourage.”
The three men, all in their twenties, parked the car and made their way down the street in Kansas City’s Plaza District. It was a big money neighborhood filled with expensive shops and restaurants. The Spanish-inspired architecture may have looked a little out of place in the American Midwest, but the atmosphere was a big draw for spend-happy tourists and locals.
As they walked, LeVon and his friends appeared to be in no hurry. They were each decked out in Kansas City Chiefs’ gear. LeVon had on a Chiefs’ headband and led the procession. As they passed window shoppers, anyone who noticed them did a double take. This was followed by amazed smiles and quick whispering between the onlookers. Many of them grabbed for the cameras on their phones.
All eyes were on LeVon, but not for anything he had done personally. He did not have any particular achievements or notoriety. He and his buddies handed out towels and cleaned floors at the athletic center for nearby University of Missouri – Kansas City. A visitor to the gym might take a towel from him and completely forget his face, except for one thing: he looked remarkably like Chiefs’ quarterback, Patrick Mahomes.
The resemblance was especially close when LeVon wore a headband and cut his hair in the pseudo-Mohawk style preferred by Mahomes. If the two were standing side by side, you would see that the real Patrick Mahomes was slightly taller and bulkier than the fake version, but with no direct comparison available, 99% of the public would be fooled.
LeVon and his entourage walked directly to The Cheesecake Factory, which sat on the most prominent corner of the Plaza District. The dinner rush had begun and customers were already waiting outside the lobby for tables.
“I need a table for me and my boys,” LeVon said to the hostess who greeted him.
The hostess paused and looked flustered. She obviously thought she was talking to someone very important. She said apologetically, “It will be about twenty minutes. We’re really busy.”
One of LeVon’s friends piped up behind him and said, “C’mon Patrick. We can find someplace else.”
“You can’t hook us up sooner?” LeVon said to the hostess, with a smile and wink.
The hostess smiled in return and said nervously, “I’ll see what I can do.” She hurried off to talk with some of the other employees and they all began gesturing toward LeVon. Then the hostess scurried back to the greeting desk.
“A table barely opened up,” the hostess said breathlessly. “Follow me, this way.”
LeVon and his friends smiled to each other and walked behind the hostess as she climbed the stairs to the restaurant’s second floor. LeVon nodded toward the seated customers staring at him, as if to acknowledge that they were seeing who they thought they were seeing.
“I hope this is okay,” said the hostess, stopping at a booth in front of a window. The surrounding buildings and street below were clearly visible.
“This looks great,” said LeVon. He let his friends scoot into the booth and he took a seat on the outside, closer to the other tables in the room.
“Your waiter will be right over,” said the hostess with a relieved smile.
LeVon and his friends could already see a group of waiters standing near a door to the kitchen. They appeared to be deciding who got to serve the Patrick Mahomes table. Eventually, a young, clean-cut male, who looked like he could be an aspiring model, walked over holding menus.
“I’m Jason and I’ll be your waiter tonight.” Jason passed the menus around the table. “Can I start you off with some drinks.”
“Hey Patrick, now the season’s done, you finally gonna have a drink?” asked one of LeVon’s friends.
Levon smiled and said, “I might.”
Suddenly, Jason appeared like he might burst. “I don’t wanna sound like a total fanboy, but are you actually Patrick Mahomes?”
LeVon smiled and raised both hands from the table, palms up. “That’s me,” he replied.
“Wow, this is so cool. Would you autograph something for me?” asked Jason.
“I tell you what,” said LeVon, “You comp food and drinks for me and my boys and I’ll sign anything you want.”
“I think that can be arranged,” replied Jason excitedly.
The wait staff brought out trays full of food and cocktails, along with a Sharpie pen. LeVon had looked up Patrick Mahomes’ signature online and practiced forging it until he could do a pretty good approximation without hesitation. LeVon kept scribbling as Jason and his friends dropped menus, T-shirts, aprons, napkins, and drink coasters onto the table.
After everything they could think of had been marked up with the Sharpie, the wait staff finally left LaVon alone with his friends in the booth. Their table was littered with the leftover food and desserts which had been exchanged for the fake signatures. Beer glasses were still half-full of amber colored liquids they had sampled.
“How come we never tried this sooner, Patrick?” one of LeVon’s friends whispered to him, with a wink.
“I don’t know, but we’re never paying for food or drinks again,” LeVon whispered back. “I could get used to this.”
LeVon leaned back and put his hands behind his head. His full belly and the alcohol filtering through his system made him feel warm and satisfied. He also felt like he deserved to be treated this way. If he had the looks of Patrick Mahomes, he deserved to have all the great things Patrick Mahomes got. People like Jason should be falling all over themselves to hand him the best things in life.
All the food trays and autograph signing had been impossible to ignore by the other restaurant customers. At the table closest to LeVon’s booth, three friends from out of town were also having dinner. They were in Kansas City for a business trip and had just closed a major deal. In celebration, they were drinking more than they normally would.
The leader of the group, Kevin, was feeling unusually satisfied. He had been working on the Kansas City deal for over a year and it was going to make their medium-sized company a big-sized company. He would go from supervising 20 people to supervising 100 people. He was proud of himself and, like LeVon, felt important and powerful.
Kevin had never sat close to someone famous before. He and his friends whispered about people they had gotten near, but no one compared to Patrick Mahomes, who was arguably the best quarterback in the NFL. Kevin whispered to his table that he thought Mahomes would look more impressive in person. Then he decided he wanted to make his friends laugh.
“You suck Mahomes,” Kevin said toward the booth next to him. The volume of his voice was louder than a whisper, but quieter than a soft speaking voice. He mostly wanted his friends to hear it and not necessarily anyone in the booth.
Despite what Kevin may have intended, LeVon did hear the insult. His friends heard it, too, but just barely. They gave LeVon a worried look. Was this something they should acknowledge or even respond to?
If the real Patrick Mahomes would have heard Kevin’s random insult, he would have likely laughed it off. If he did acknowledge it, he would have probably smiled and replied with something to diffuse the situation. He may have even offered to buy Kevin a drink. Real NFL quarterbacks were trained on how to deal with the general public and avoid confrontations. But the fake Patrick Mahomes did not have any of that training and he did not have any money to buy Kevin a drink. His first instinct was to keep up his ruse by defending Patrick Mahomes’ honor.
“No, you suck! And your butt’s too big for that chair!” LeVon called toward Kevin, in a voice louder than the one Kevin had used.
Everyone at the table and in the booth was surprised to hear LeVon’s response. His friends quickly shook their heads as a sign he should drop it. Kevin’s friends knew he was ultra-sensitive about his weight and now a famous quarterback was calling attention to it. They gritted their teeth and hoped he would let it go. The voices in Kevin’s head were telling him to do the opposite.
“Go Bucs! Tom Brady showed he’s a million times better than you!” cried Kevin.
The Chiefs’ loss to the Buccaneers in Super Bowl LV was still a sore subject to Kansas City fans, including LeVon. Now he had to defend his team’s honor as well as that of Patrick Mahomes. He moved right to shouting the juiciest swear words he knew. Kevin replied loudly with some of his own.
Jason and the wait staff hurried over to the Patrick Mahomes booth. The restaurant wanted to maintain a family-friendly atmosphere and R-rated arguments were not part of their business model.
“Gentlemen! Please, keep your voices down and control your language or you’ll have to leave!” Jason insisted.
LeVon did not think that backing down at that point would adequately represent Patrick Mahomes’ fighting spirit. “Fine! Let’s take this outside!” he shouted.
LeVon was hoping that Kevin would refuse to move and shut his mouth, but Kevin replied with, “Alright, let’s go.”
Both LeVon’s friends and Kevin’s friends whispered how they thought it was a bad idea and they should clear out as quickly as possible. LeVon and Kevin had been doing the talking, however, and both thought walking away would look weak and cowardly. So the two groups got up from the table and the booth and marched through the restaurant to the sidewalk outside.
An impending fight in the Plaza District was sure to get a lot of attention even if it involved non-celebrities. With Patrick Mahomes as one of the participants, it guaranteed a quickly formed pack of onlookers. At least 50 phones filmed the action as multiple people in the crowd called for Patrick to “Take him out!” and “Beat him down!” along with more colorful, family-unfriendly encouragement.
LeVon and Kevin stood face to face a few feet apart and sized each other up. LeVon was a few inches taller. Kevin was out of shape but he had at least an extra fifty pounds of mass on his side. Both men raised their hands in a semi-defensive stance, but without closing their fists.
Kevin’s heart pounded like he had sprinted across a football field. Adrenaline replaced some of the alcohol lubricating his brain. His fear was replaced by the realization that he was squaring off with a mega-wealthy NFL quarterback. He had nothing to lose. If he came out of a fight looking respectable, he would always be able to say he whipped Patrick Mahomes.
And even if he got whipped himself, he could sue for a bunch of money. It would be best if Mahomes threw the first punch, but even if it looked like more of a mutually instigated fight, he could still sue. Famous people did not want the bad publicity of lawsuits going to trial. Mahomes would settle out of court and pay him off.
“Go on and take a swing,” said Kevin in a taunting voice.
“You don’t want any of this,” replied LeVon.
“Any of what? Weak hands? You’re washed up already and you’re only like twenty-five. You and the Chiefs won’t sniff the playoffs again.”
“You better watch yourself. You’re gonna be in the hospital,” said LeVon.
The two men were now circling each other with their hands still raised. “Oh, I’m real scared,” said Kevin sarcastically. “You’re not so tough when you’re not wearing a helmet.”
“C’mon Patrick,” shouted people in the crowd. “He’s probably a Raiders fan. Smack him in the head.”
The outdoor air and activity were bringing LeVon back to his senses. He knew he was stuck. It was too late to admit he was not Patrick Mahomes. He had already eaten the food and signed the autographs. He had to do something but he did not want punches flying. What if the guy he was circling was a boxer or karate black belt? While Kevin was pointing toward his own chin, daring LeVon to take a punch, LeVon did something impulsive. He lowered his shoulder and dove at Kevin’s ribs like he was tackling someone holding a football.
Kevin was caught off guard, but before LeVon could get him to the ground, he wrapped his arms around LeVon’s shoulders. They pushed back and forth against each other, tugging at shirts. They were fairly evenly matched despite the weight difference.
The police showed up while they were struggling. The surrounding crowd quickly parted to let two uniformed officers through.
“C’mon, break it up!” ordered the officers.
LeVon and Kevin backed away from each other and pulled down their shirts. LeVon’s headband had drifted from his forehead to his neck.
One of the onlookers pointed at Kevin and shouted, “He started it! He was talking a bunch of smack trying to get Patrick to punch him.”
Another person from the crowd shouted, “Yeah, no one should disrespect Patrick Mahomes and get away with it.”
The older of the two officers looked carefully at LeVon. “Let’s see some ID.” Then he turned to Kevin. “You too.”
“That’s Patrick Mahomes,” yelled someone in the crowd with a laugh. “You don’t need to see his ID.”
The police officer shook his head and sneered. “Nah, I don’t think so. Might look like him but I’ve got my doubts.” He turned to LeVon and Kevin. “C’mon boys, let’s see those IDs.”
LeVon and Kevin reluctantly reached into their pockets and handed driver’s licenses to the officer. He looked at them both and smiled. “Looks like we’ve got Kevin Lawson and LeVon Sykes.”
“LeVon Sykes?” shouted Kevin. “You said you were Patrick Mahomes! I was going to let you hit me!”
LeVon turned to the officer. “This guy was running his mouth about the Chiefs. I had to do something.”
“Did you tell him you were Patrick Mahomes?” the officer asked, trying not to laugh.
“I didn’t tell him anything,” replied LeVon.
One of the waiters from The Cheesecake Factory was standing nearby. She shouted, “He told us he was Mahomes! We gave him free drinks! Arrest him!”
The police officer shrugged his shoulders. “As far as I know, it’s not a crime to impersonate Patrick Mahomes.” “He fooled us all!” cried Kevin, sounding woozy, as if he had actually been hit. “And the worst part is the nice stuff I was saying about Tom Brady. I hate Tom Brady! I’m a Bills fan!”
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