KANSAS CITY, Mo. — Some 55 hours before his 12th NFL season, Travis Kelce walked into a crowded media room at the Chiefs’ practice facility that had been waiting for his arrival.

He’d been here, in a similar room, for the first time more than a dozen years earlier, a teleconference introduction of a third-round draft pick that came minutes after a far more important call.

On the other end of that one: “Are you gonna screw this up?”

Kelce had thought that draft-day call was coming from the St. Louis Rams, by the way — Missouri number and all. Instead, it was Andy Reid. At one point, Reid, in his first months as the Chiefs’ head coach, asked Kelce to pass the phone to his brother, Jason, who provided the final draft recommendation.

And with that, an immature college kid — his words — had a chance.

And with it now?

One of the most accomplished tight ends in NFL history is unquestionably its most famous. A three-time Super Bowl champion. A franchise record-holder in just about every receiving category. Some NFL records, too. A $100 million podcast deal. Oh, and I guess we have to mention he just so happens to be dating the most prominent celebrity in the world.

A lot can change in a dozen years.

But enough of that already.

Because this is about what hasn’t.

‘What the (bleep)?’

Maybe 100 yards from where Travis Kelce stood behind the microphone Tuesday afternoon, Chiefs safety Justin Reid sat at his locker.

He has his own Travis Kelce memory. He didn’t mention the specific play.

But I will, because it’s understood.

Patrick Mahomes had reared back to throw a football to Kelce in an AFC divisional round playoff game against the Texans at Arrowhead Stadium — this is January 2020, ahead of the Chiefs’ first Super Bowl run of the era. But then Mahomes thought better of it. Reid, who at the time was playing for the Texans, had blanketed coverage on Kelce.

See, Reid had spent the week leading up to that game dissecting the Chiefs’ playbook: He said he “felt like I had the routes dialed.” When the Chiefs lined up under center, fullback on the left side of the backfield, a receiver split out wide each way, Reid knew the play.

“I’m about to jump this route,” he thought.

Man, if he wasn’t right. He picked up Kelce about five yards past the line of scrimmage, and, truthfully, he might’ve run a 10-yard out-route better than Kelce did.

But then?

“This dude starts going in the other direction,” Reid said. “I’m like, ‘What the (bleep)?’ ”

The Mahomes pump-fake wasn’t actually a pump-fake. At least not intentionally. He’d wanted to throw the pass, just as it was drawn up, just as Reid knew it had been drawn up.

But the coverage was there. So Kelce dipped his shoulder, turned in the opposite direction and opened his hips. By the time he faced the line of scrimmage, the football was already in the air.

The play went for 28 yards.

That’s the on-paper effect. Pretty substantial.

But there’s another.

“At that point, everything you studied all week, it goes out the window,” Reid said. “You can’t trust anything.”

Kelce has plenty of the conventional physical traits. We could spend time discussing those, but they’re quite obvious. He’s explosive, long, fast and agile with his feet. He’s been a premier athlete since childhood, no matter the sport — baseball, football, even hockey. That’s why the high school team put him at quarterback. Just get the ball in that guy’s hands.

Thing is, though, some of that stuff starts to leave you. He’s not quite as explosive, not quite as fast, not quite as agile with his feet as he once was. He is 34 years old, will be 35 in a month, playing a position that suggests he shouldn’t be doing this anymore, and certainly shouldn’t be doing it well.

Yet, a year ago, there was still nobody better than Travis Kelce. At some point, this will take a turn because every last indicator says it has to.

If you lose the athleticism, what sticks?

The instincts and the intellect. The stuff that made Justin Reid lose his mind. All the stuff you might not even notice unless you sit inside this locker room.

OK, so, let’s ask those who do.

The other Travis Kelce traits — even the eyes

About a week or so into training camp this year, the Chiefs were re-watching film of a practice play, and if you didn’t know the finer details of the playbook, you wouldn’t have thought much of it.

Mahomes made a simple zone-busting throw to Kelce over the middle of the field.

That’s that, right?

Immediately after it popped on film, though, one rookie tight end whispered something to another.

That wasn’t the route, was it?

Kelce was supposed to run a crossing pattern, from the numbers neighboring one sideline to the hash marks of another. But he had anticipated the opening in the defense over the middle and just set up shop. Mahomes, as rookie Jared Wiley later recalled, never took his eyes off him.

“I mean the fact that he makes it look easy is probably why he’s going to be the best tight end to ever play this game,” Wiley said.

What, exactly, is he making look so easy? It’s a combination of a lot of things, but they fit under two umbrellas.

The first: “He’s just so smart. He probably knows what defenses are supposed to do better than they do,” said Baylor Cupp, a tight end on the Chiefs’ practice squad.

The second: “He’s crafty,” said Cole Christiansen, a practice squad linebacker who has spent the past three years defending Kelce in training camp and practice. “I mean he’s still fast, especially with his feet, but he really doesn’t even have to move that fast to make you miss.”

How about an example?

“It could be anything. His body language is deceptive. He can lean his body and influence you to think he’s going one way and then go another,” Christiansen said. “Sometimes it’s just his eyes. He thinks of everything to mess with your movements.”

His eyes.

They have been a thing lately, in case you haven’t noticed, and, trust me, I wouldn’t blame you if you haven’t. Comes with the territory, apparently. The life-away-from-football territory.

Are they blue? Or green? Tough to tell.

How fitting.

On the football field, the deception is intentional. That’s the level of detail he’s using.

Justin Reid recently saw a social media debate about whether LeBron James today, the 39-year-old, could beat LeBron James the rookie, the 18-year-old, one-on-one. (I assure you this is related, so stick with me here.)

The answer, Reid said, was easy. The veteran wins. You learn your own body.

You learn everything about what the other guy is trying to do.

Reid brought up that debate when I first mentioned Kelce. “He feels like he’s timeless,” he said, “because he’s so smart and knows the moves.”

Knows their moves.

The improvisation — at least that’s the appearance of it to us — is intentional. It is the result of study habits, the result of experience.

“His physicality speaks for itself, but he knows where players are going to be, where defenders are going to be,” veteran Chiefs receiver JuJu Smith-Schuster said. “That’s what he brings: how to find space.”

Said linebacker Nick Bolton, “Honestly, I can’t tell you if his routes are the way they’re supposed to be ran or not. You see he knows what (defense) we’re in, where guys are maneuvering, and then he just sits down and finds an open spot. I don’t understand. It’s kind of ridiculous.”

There’s a difficultly in this that is understated. NFL players are seldom more amazed than those sitting home and watching plays unfold.

Mahomes took an average of 3.03 seconds from snap to release last season. That’s all Kelce has. Just 3.03 seconds to fight for a release off the line of scrimmage — with defenses bumping him there more than ever — before recognizing the defense and adjusting to it.

“It blows my mind,” said Cupp, the practice squad tight end. “It’s just as simple as that. It blows my mind.”

There’s some exaggeration in how Kelce breaks from the playbook on every snap. The plays are often designed to pry him open. Several offer him multiple options. They’re intended to provide freedom. He’s just uncanny in the way he always picks the right door to open.

That aspect of it doesn’t work without the quarterback, or at least a very strong connection with the quarterback. “Those two guys, man, they’re like yin and yang,” Bolton said.

And sometimes, yes, it just plain doesn’t work at all.

But there are stories about that, too. In his first practice with the Chiefs — the very first one — Christiansen, the practice squad linebacker, defended Kelce. And did so well. Recognized the route. Kelce didn’t find an opening. Christiansen got him.

When he started jogging back toward the line of scrimmage, Christiansen heard a voice.

It was Kelce.

“Hey, thanks, man,” Kelce told him. “I appreciate it. That’s getting us a lot better.”

“I was like, ‘I have never heard someone of your caliber take the time to say that to someone like me,’ ” Christiansen recalled. “No one does that.”

Travis Kelce and defying the effects of time

There will come a point when this column is out of date, because the evidence indicates this tight end should already be past his date.

He’s asked about that frequently, including in that aforementioned news conference earlier this week. Inside The NFL’s Brandon Marshall made an appearance in the media room, the former Broncos and Jets wide receiver among those waiting on Kelce, and even he referenced it.

You’re in this inflection point when you start to feel it — and you start seeing the end.

That’s how Marshall provided context for the question. As though that part was just understood. He’s not wrong.

Kelce is in his age-35 season. In the Super Bowl era, since the late 1960s, the most receptions a tight end has ever had at age 34 or older is 93. The most yards, 984.

Those are Kelce’s numbers from last season.

He is not in good company. He is the company.

And now he’s a year older.

The Chiefs have managed his snaps over the past couple of seasons. You might recall a time when that annoyed him. That was most evident early in Super Bowl LVIII, when he stormed (and inexcusably bumped) coach Andy Reid on the sideline. He wanted in the game.

It’s no coincidence that he dominated those playoffs only after taking Week 18 off, bypassing the opportunity to extend his streak of 1,000-yard seasons in favor of gearing up for the postseason. The decision surprised no one in the facility, and we might not be talking about the opportunity for a three-peat had he not made it.

Kelce’s ongoing effectiveness depends on more of the same — load management, so to speak — whether he’s on board with it or not. And he’s not, by the way. When asked if the Chiefs’ coaches have talked to him about a snap count, Kelce responded rather quickly: “No. And I probably wouldn’t listen to them if they did.”

But he knows.

He, not us, first brought up the topic of retirement last year. He has plans beyond football, because while football hasn’t changed, his life outside the game has. The opportunities he’s entertaining have changed with it.

On Tuesday, and we’re back in that media room setting now, he was reminded of a quote he provided late last season in which he indicated he planned to play until the wheels came off. It’s misleading, his own words, because it’s what beyond those wheels that has extended this unlikely run.

Anyway, he answered the question in a positive way. Called football his sanctuary. He still enjoys it. Enjoys the grind of it. At this stage, he has no choice but to enjoy the finer details. They have produced the foundation of the later years of his career.

Kelce answered a few more questions that day and then departed.

But as he walked out the door, the microphones no longer pointed his way, he mumbled something to no one in particular.

“Hopefully,” he said, “I keep finding these wheels.”

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