“Coach, I’m Sorry. I Have to Go Home.” — Chiefs’ Josh Simmons Breaks His Silence After Two Weeks Missing, Revealing the Heartbreaking Family Tragedy Behind His Sudden Departure
For two long weeks, the Kansas City Chiefs and their fans were left in confusion, concern, and speculation. When offensive lineman Josh Simmons abruptly left the team without public explanation, the silence was deafening. Rumors swirled. Was it an injury? A personal dispute? A sudden crisis? No one, not even close teammates, seemed to have the full picture.
But now, in an emotional and deeply human revelation, Simmons has spoken publicly for the first time since his disappearance from team activities. His words, delivered softly but with the weight of heartbreak, have left the sports world stunned — not because of scandal, but because of the raw humanity behind them.
“Coach, I’m sorry. I have to go home,” Simmons reportedly said in a private phone call to head coach Andy Reid. The simplicity of that sentence belied the storm raging behind it. As it turns out, the 24-year-old lineman’s sudden departure wasn’t about football at all. It was about family, love, and loss — and a young man’s desperate need to be present for the people who raised him when everything fell apart.
In his statement, Simmons revealed that his mother had fallen gravely ill, her condition deteriorating much faster than doctors expected. She had been battling heart complications quietly for months, never wanting her son to worry or lose focus on his NFL career. “She always told me, ‘Don’t come home unless it’s to celebrate,’” Simmons said. “But this time, she needed me — and I knew it in my heart.”
The Chiefs organization, known for its strong culture of support and brotherhood, immediately respected Simmons’ decision. Yet the suddenness of his exit still caught many by surprise. He left in the middle of the team’s preparation for a crucial matchup — a period where chemistry and consistency are paramount. But to Simmons, football had to pause. Family had to come first.
“When I called Coach Reid, I couldn’t even finish my sentence,” Simmons shared. “He didn’t ask for details. He just said, ‘Go take care of your family, son. We’ve got you.’ That meant everything.”
Simmons’ mother passed away days later, surrounded by family in their hometown of San Antonio, Texas. Her loss shattered him, but it also brought clarity. “All my life, she was the reason I worked this hard,” he said. “Every push-up, every rep, every late-night film session — it was for her. To make her proud.”
For two weeks, Simmons stayed home, disconnected from football, social media, and the noise of the outside world. He helped his siblings navigate funeral arrangements, spent hours looking through old photos, and sat in silence with his grandmother — the matriarch of the family who reminded him that strength sometimes means knowing when to stop.
“Football teaches you to fight through pain,” he said. “But nobody teaches you how to deal with loss. You can’t tape it up. You can’t play through it. You have to feel it.”
When the news of his disappearance first broke, media outlets speculated about possible disciplinary issues or mental health struggles. Some fans feared the worst. But in hindsight, Simmons’ silence wasn’t avoidance — it was grief.
Chiefs teammates now describe a locker room that’s rallied behind him. “Josh is one of the most genuine guys you’ll ever meet,” said quarterback Patrick Mahomes. “He didn’t owe anyone an explanation for stepping away. Sometimes life hits harder than any blitz.”
Travis Kelce echoed that sentiment. “We talk about being a family in this locker room — this is what that means. He did what he had to do. We’ve got his back.”
Simmons’ journey to the NFL was never smooth. Coming from a modest background, he had to fight for recognition at every level. Undrafted out of a small college program, he worked his way through practice squads and tryouts before finally earning a roster spot with Kansas City. His mother, a single parent who worked multiple jobs, was his biggest cheerleader.
“She used to stay up watching my high school games on YouTube even after her shifts,” Simmons said with a faint smile. “She’d say, ‘You keep blocking for those quarterbacks, baby. One day, they’ll know your name.’”
And indeed, they did. Simmons’ hard-nosed playing style and quiet determination made him a favorite among coaches. But behind the physical toughness was a man deeply connected to his roots — a trait that made his decision to leave all the more understandable.
He recounted the moment he knew he couldn’t stay away any longer. “I was in the locker room after practice, and I got a call from my sister. She said Mom’s breathing had gotten worse. I just froze. Everything around me went silent. That’s when I told Coach, ‘I’m sorry. I have to go home.’”
The Chiefs later confirmed that Simmons had been placed on a non-football personal list, giving him the time he needed to handle family matters. The organization’s quiet handling of the situation — with respect and privacy — earned praise from fans and analysts alike.
“Sometimes, the best leadership is compassion,” one sports columnist wrote. “Andy Reid and the Chiefs showed that no player is just a name on a roster. They’re human beings with lives beyond the game.”
Now back in Kansas City, Simmons says he’s slowly finding his footing again. Football, for him, has become a form of therapy — a place to channel pain into purpose. “When I step back on that field, I’m playing for her,” he said. “Every block, every snap — it’s for Mom.”
He admitted, however, that returning hasn’t been easy. The routine that once felt comforting now carries the echoes of her absence. “I used to call her before every game,” he said softly. “Now, I just look up and say, ‘This one’s for you.’”
Simmons’ story has struck a chord far beyond Kansas City. Across social media, fans and fellow athletes have flooded his posts with messages of support. Many have shared their own experiences of losing loved ones while juggling the demands of professional life.
“Grief is universal,” one fan wrote. “What Josh did — choosing family first — that’s what being a real man is about.”
Mental health professionals have also highlighted the importance of stories like his in destigmatizing emotional vulnerability among athletes. In a culture that often prizes toughness and stoicism, Simmons’ openness is a quiet act of courage.
“Professional athletes are under immense pressure to perform, no matter what’s happening off the field,” said Dr. Hannah Carter, a sports psychologist. “When players like Josh show that it’s okay to step back for family and mental well-being, it sets a powerful example.”
For Simmons, though, the focus isn’t on being a symbol. It’s simply about healing and honoring his mother’s memory. “She always told me, ‘Never forget where you came from,’” he said. “I went home because that’s where my story began — and where she’ll always be.”
He’s now working with the team to start a community outreach program in her name — a foundation aimed at supporting single parents and families dealing with medical hardships. “She gave everything to make sure we had a chance,” he said. “This is my way of giving back.”
Inside the Chiefs’ locker room, his presence has become a reminder of perspective — that beyond the touchdowns and trophies, football is still about people. “When Josh came back,” one teammate said, “we didn’t talk about plays. We just hugged him. That said it all.”
As Kansas City continues its season, Simmons’ story lingers as a powerful testament to what it means to balance duty with love. In a sport built on strength, it’s his vulnerability that’s resonated most deeply.
His message to fans was simple but profound. “Life moves fast in this game,” he said. “But don’t forget to slow down for the people who matter. You never know when it’ll be the last time you get to tell them you love them.”
The Chiefs community has embraced him wholeheartedly, and his return to practice this week drew cheers from teammates and staff alike. While his future role on the field remains secondary for now, his impact off it is undeniable.
“Football will always be here,” Andy Reid said in a press conference. “But family — that’s what really lasts. Josh made the right call.”
As Simmons walked off the practice field after his first day back, he paused for a moment, looked up to the sky, and smiled faintly. The cameras captured the quiet gesture — a young man, still grieving, but slowly finding peace.
“I used to think being strong meant never breaking,” he reflected. “Now I know it means breaking — and still finding a way to keep going.”
In a world where athletes are often defined by stats and performance, Josh Simmons’ story is a reminder that sometimes the most powerful moments happen far away from the field — in the quiet choices of love, loss, and family.
And in those simple, haunting words — “Coach, I’m sorry. I have to go home.” — lies a truth that transcends sport: at the end of the day, we’re all just human beings trying to protect the hearts that built us.
Because even in the toughest game on earth, nothing is stronger than the pull of home.
