I Haven’t Smiled This Hard at a Quarterback Ever By Kiki Pape
- Kiki Pape
- Feb 17
- 2 min read

‘Romance of Football’ and is it lost?
College football is something I don’t always follow. I was blessed to go to the University of Colorado Boulder, where Coach Prime dominated the stadium during my years of attendance. I graduated this May and found myself searching for that love of following a team I had discovered in college.
Most boys I met in college were fueled by skipping class, ghosting girls, and hitting a vape every other sentence. Young men have dragged this culture down, falling short of what football’s romance is meant to embody: camaraderie, dedication, and the game's unifying spirit. What I love about football is the romance and passion embedded in its culture. But lately, it feels like a low-brow, exclusive locker room no one can join.
Until I saw Fernando Mendoza.
Here was someone who reminded me why football could be beautiful again. Mendoza plays with intelligence, but what struck me most was his heart, on and off the field. Watching him, I could see the devotion he brings, not just to the game but to his teammates, his coaches, and most importantly, his family. He’s so focused that the only social media he uses is LinkedIn, and even then, it’s strictly professional. Every pass, every play, carries weight beyond stats.
Mendoza’s story is also about values and upbringing. A man who loves his mother is already a winner, and Mendoza exemplifies that. His mother has battled multiple sclerosis for nearly two decades, and his father has been a constant presence of support and respect, sitting beside her through the struggles with quiet strength and grace. Watching Mendoza interact with his parents, it’s clear he’s been raised by a gentleman—a father who leads by example and a son who honors both his parents through devotion, humility, and care. That kind of upbringing shapes not just a player, but a person whose wins extend far beyond the scoreboard.
What makes Mendoza’s story even more compelling is that he came in as an underdog. Unlike the college boys I had met—more interested in skipping class, debating TikTok trends, or crafting the perfect Instagram story—Mendoza quietly worked for every opportunity. He wasn’t handed success or a spotlight; he transferred, fought for every snap, and proved that passion and perseverance can overcome the odds. That struggle against expectations is part of what makes football so romantic. It’s not just about touchdowns—it’s about resilience, courage, and the quiet moments of dedication that nobody sees.
Mendoza embodies the romance of football in every sense. In Mendoza, I found a reminder of why people fall in love with the game —and why the best stories in football aren’t always about the scoreboard. They’re about the passion that survives long after the final whistle. And sometimes, it’s the underdog who teaches us the most about love for the game.
He is a role model everyone should follow. Especially young men.




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