Sports: The Ultimate Therapy

The Kansas City Chiefs are arguably the worst team in the league this season. Coming into Sunday's game against the Carolina Panthers, KC was sporting a 1-10 record. Their roster is full of under-performing players.

In the span of just eleven games, fans watched a team that was expected to be mediocre, turn into a team that seemed like it was planning for the first pick of the draft next year.

And then Sunday came.

The Chiefs played what was indisputably, their best game of the year. Brady Quinn threw two touchdowns and completed 82 percent of his passes.  The team managed to out-score (though not completely stop) an amazing QB in Cam Newton.  And Jamal Charles, a man who had every excuse not to be on a football field this weekend, ran for 127 yards and averaged nearly five yards a rush.

At the end of the day, the Chiefs marched off the field  with a 27-21 victory under their belt.  It was only their second win of the season.

What sparked this sudden turn-around? Tragedy.

On Saturday, linebacker Jovan Belcher shot and killed his 22-year-old girlfriend with their two-month-old daughter in the other room. Belcher then drove to the team's practice facility where he thanked general manager Scott Pioli and head coach Romeo Crennel in the parking lot for all they had done for him.  He then turned his gun on himself and fired.

Initial reactions around the country varied from anger, to shock, to confusion. And sadness.

Immediately, questions began to rise. "Why did this happen? Should they even play tomorrow? Do you honor a fallen teammate, even if he murdered someone in cold blood?"

The team met to mourn that day.  They didn't answer many questions, but they made one thing clear:  they would be playing on Sunday.

And they did.  With heavy hearts, KC marched on to the field and did what seemed natural.  They did only thing that made sense in what had been a confusing and heartbreaking weekend.  They played football.

Some may disagree, but the fact that the Chiefs won wasn't as important as just being on the field at all this weekend was.  The win was fitting and heart-warming, but it just wasn't as important.

When the team announced that they would play on Sunday, I was admittedly skeptical. How could anyone expect them to play football after a tragedy like this? Especially a team playing like the Chiefs are this season.

But I thought it over a bit. And I found myself asking, "how could they not play?"

I lost a very close friend three years ago.  Words can't properly describe the emotions that my schoolmates and I felt.  It was tough to imagine moving on.

When I got home that day, my parents asked what they could do for me.  One thing came to my mind.  I grabbed a glove and had a catch with my father.

It was so simple, so small, and so perfect.  There was nothing complicated about it. There was no thought involved. Just catch, and throw. Catch, and throw.

I'll never pretend to understand how the Chiefs are feeling.  No one can possibly understand it.  But I do understand the need to play.

Under all the strategy, the money, and the various controversies, the Kansas City Chiefs reminded us on Sunday that football is a game. You take a ball from one end of a grass field, and try to put it on the other side of the grass field. It's 60 minutes of problem-free sport that allows you to escape  everything else going on in the world.  It's an opportunity to heal.

These next few weeks are going to be hell in Kansas City.  Two families lost loved ones.  A little girl lost both of her parents without really being old enough to even know who they were.  And a group of guys lost a teammate.

But the team can take solace in the fact that every Sunday, for a few hours at least, there will be a time for healing.  They won't finish with a winning record.  In fact, they are on pace to have the worst record in the league this year.  But I'd be willing to bet that the members of the Kansas City Chiefs have never been happier to be on a football field.