Scene opens with Clark hunt sitting at his desk in his office in a smoking jacket, pipe in hand. The Super Bowl 4 trophy lingers over his shoulder on a shelf, glimmering in sunlight that sneaks its way in to the room through the blinds. The walls are lined with pictures of Chiefs' greats. A lone fan stands three paces in front of his desk wearing a Derrick Thomas jersey. The fan looks worn, tired, and broken.
Clark: Hello Chiefs fan, I'm the Architect, Clark Hunt. My father and I created this franchise. You have many questions, and although seeing me has surely altered your consciousness, you remain irrevocably human. Ergo, some of my answers you will understand, and most you will not. Concordantly, while your first question may be the most pertinent, you may or may not realize it is the most irrelevant.
Fan: Why am I here?
Clark: You are the sum of a remainder of an unbalanced equation inherent to the design of this franchise. Your frustration as a fan is the eventuality of an anomaly, which despite my sincerest efforts I have been unable to eliminate from what is otherwise a harmony of money making precision. While it remains a burden to sedulously avoid it, it is not unexpected, and thus you are not beyond the measure of my control. Which has led you, inexorably, here.
Fan: Uhhhh, who talks like that?
Clark: I know, I have a Masters from SMU, I'm smarter than you. This team is greater than you know, I prefer counting it from the emergence of one integral general manager to the next, in which this is the fifth version.
Fan: Anyone ever tell you that you're a lot shorter in person?
Clark: The first team my father designed was quite naturally perfect, it was a work of art, flawless, sublime, we went to two Super Bowls in four years. After that, the inevitability of its doom is as apparent to me now as a consequence of the imperfection inherent in every general manager, thus i redesigned it based on the fans choice to more accurately reflect the varying grotesqueries of your wishes. However, I have since been frustrated by its failure. I have since come to understand that the answers have eluded me because it required a lesser mind, or perhaps a mind less bound by the parameters of perfection, such as mine. Thus, the answer was stumbled upon by you the fans.
Fan: I see where you're going with this little man.
Clark: As I was saying, we've come to the conclusion that 99.9% of the fans will accept the franchise at face value, as long as we look like we are trying, and should we lose, we have a scapegoat. While this answer functions, it is obviously fundamentally flawed, thus creating an otherwise systemic anomaly wherein less than a percent of fans don't buy in and are extremely vocal in their displeasure. They refuse the changes we make and while this is a minority, if left unchecked, it could constitute an escalating probability of disaster.
Fan: This is about Scott Pioli.
Clark: You are here because you want Pioli fired, and every member of his staff terminated, the entire front office eradicated.
Clark: Anger is the most predictable of all human responses from a fan. But, rest assured, this will be the fifth time we have destroyed a general manager, and we have become exceedingly efficient at it.
The Function of the general manager is to make me money, not win games. Scott has made me piles of money, therefore firing him would constitute a horrible decision on my part. You fans are just ants.
Fan: You won't let it happen. You need the fans to survive.
Clark: There are levels of survival we are prepared to accept. However, the relevant issue is whether or not you are ready to accept your responsibility and follow this franchise with continuous blind optimism.
Fan: I'll do no such thing, Pioli has ran this team in to the ground, he has to go.
Clark: It is interesting reading your reactions. Your predecessor fans were designed on a similar predication, a contingent affirmation that was meant to create a profound attachment to the leadership of this franchise. While the others experienced this in a very general way, your disgust is far more specific. Vis-a-vis hatred towards one.
Clark: He entered in to this franchise to save it from the Thigpens and Huards of the world, at the cost of his own career.
Fan: He's awful. Even you should be able to see it.
Clark: Which brings us at last to the moment of truth, wherein the fundamental flaw is ultimately expressed, and the fan reveals his choice. There are two doors to my office. The door to the right leads back to your fanbase, where you will fall in line like the rest of those sheep and blindly follow and support us in every decision we make. The door to your left leads to your contempt, where you and your other deserters can create havoc and disturb the harmony we have created, leading ultimately to Pioli's demise. The problem is choice. But we already know what you're going to choose, don't we? Already I can see the chain reaction, the chemical precursors that signal the onset of emotion, designed specifically to overwhelm logic and reason. An emotion that is blinding you from the simple, and obvious truth: I'm rich, can do whatever I want, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.(Fan walks to the door on the left)
Clark: Hope, it is the quintessential human delusion, simultaneously the source of your greatest strength, and your greatest weakness.
Fan: If I were you, I would hope we don't meet again.
Clark: We won't.