Rookie Lesson

The warm-up alone lasted two hours.

Back in the NCAA, while warm-ups were important, everything had to fit into strictly regulated practice schedules, which made efficiency a priority. Now, experiencing an NFL-level training camp for the first time, Lance immediately felt the difference between professional and amateur leagues.

The starkest contrast wasn't just the time spent warming up—it was the sheer intensity.

Everyone looked like they'd just been hauled out of a swimming pool, drenched in sweat. No exceptions. Their bodies felt fully awakened, with even the smallest muscles activated, but the thought that this was only the warm-up elicited wry smiles.

Childress stepped forward, clapping his hands for attention.

"Gather up! Everyone, over here."

Rubin rejoined Reid on the sidelines, the two exchanging quick notes on the warm-up session while keeping their eyes on the team.

It was easy to distinguish the veterans from the rookies.

Both groups struggled with the unexpected demands of the session, but the veterans—seasoned by years of NFL grind—handled it with slightly more composure. Meanwhile, the rookies leaned on adrenaline and youthful exuberance, leaving their tanks more depleted by the end.

Lance took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and joined the group forming around Childress.

"Defense to the left! Offense to the right!"

"Stand by your respective positions."

Mahomes, still catching his breath, surveyed the scene with confusion. His eyes widened at the peculiar setup in front of them:

Assistant coaches had dragged out a stack of foam mats, but instead of spreading them evenly across the field, they arranged them in a rectangular boundary, creating a makeshift ring.

The layout screamed one thing: arena.

Mahomes glanced at Lance, his voice unusually weak from fatigue. "What are we doing?"

Lance shrugged. "You know as much as I do."

He turned to Kelce, seeking answers. "New drill?"

Kelce shook his head. "Bull in the Ring."

"Bull in the Ring?"

Lance immediately thought of one-on-one basketball matchups, but how would that translate to football, especially with so many positions that never even touch the ball?

Childress didn't leave them guessing for long.

"Bull in the Ring! One-on-one! Everyone participates except quarterbacks."

"And it's not a one-and-done. You'll be back for more."

"So, who's stepping up first?"

Before anyone could respond, a voice boomed from the defensive group. "Coach Childress, me!"

All eyes turned to the source of the voice.

A massive figure emerged from the crowd, moving with deliberate sluggishness. The sheer size of him filled everyone's vision, and his presence radiated unshakable confidence.

Allen Bailey.

At 6'3" and 288 pounds, the defensive end resembled a grizzly bear in both size and demeanor.

Drafted in the third round back in 2011, Bailey had been a staple of the Kansas City defensive line for six seasons, earning the role of starting defensive end every year since joining the team. He might not have the accolades of Pro Bowlers or All-Pros, but his longevity and reliability in the league spoke volumes about his capabilities.

Coming off an injury that sidelined him for the latter half of last season, Bailey was still seen as an essential part of the Chiefs' defense. And today, his hulking figure made the offensive group collectively gulp.

"Lance?" Bailey called out, deliberately mispronouncing Lance's name. "Levi?"

"Whatever. Let's see what this year's third overall pick can do."

A cacophony of cheers erupted from the defensive players, spurred on by Bailey's taunts. His challenge wasn't subtle, and neither were his intentions.

It didn't take much to figure out Bailey's motivation.

Still recovering from injury, the grueling warm-up had pushed him to the edge, and he wasn't thrilled about it. Worse, Lance's standout performance during the session had drawn attention, making Bailey's struggles all the more apparent.

Someone needed to take this "hotshot rookie" down a peg.

On the sidelines, a mix of emotions spread among the players.

Some veterans saw this as a chance to put the rookie in his place, while others were simply curious about how Lance would fare against an NFL-caliber defensive lineman. Either way, no one was going to miss the show.

"Levi!" Bailey sneered again, his voice dripping with mockery. "Ready to go back to college? You dominated there, didn't you? Let's see if you can hang here."

The offensive players bristled at the insult, but Lance didn't react.

"Come on, Allen," Kelce interjected. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

Bailey dismissed him with a wave, not even sparing Kelce a glance. "Don't worry. You're next. Stand in line."

The tension escalated.

Even in 2017, the NFL had mostly done away with the hazing culture that used to define rookie initiations. But giving newcomers a taste of what it meant to be in the league? That tradition wasn't going anywhere.

"Relax, Kelce," Bailey sneered. "If he can't handle this, he's got no business being here. Back to college he goes."

The defensive group roared with laughter, piling onto the ridicule.

Mahomes, standing nearby, looked at Bailey's towering frame and felt a pang of worry. The size disparity between Lance and Bailey was glaring. NFL players might not have weight classes like boxers, but that didn't mean size didn't matter.

"Lance…" Mahomes began, his voice full of concern.

But Lance had already stepped forward.

Without a word, he left the safety of the offensive group and walked into the ring, his face calm and resolute.

Bailey smirked, rolling his shoulders in anticipation.

The crowd held its breath.

Let the battle begin.

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