Andre Johnson walks toward an oversized floor-to-ceiling window, stretches himself taller and takes in the quiet perfection of the view.

Clean, light-blue sky. Flat horizon stretched out for miles. Downtown Houston glowing at midday, with blue, red and silver buildings blending into towering skyscrapers and swinging cranes.

For a few seconds, the greatest player in Texans history pauses his life inside a high-end Museum District hotel.

The only city he's played pro football for is laid out before him. Houston helped create Johnson's legacy and make his NFL name. The biggest city in the South appears to again belong to the man who has at times single-handedly kept the Texans relevant and alive since 2003.

"Home," says Johnson, his eyes zeroing in on the city's skyline.

In months, Johnson again could be at war with the Texans. Eleven thrilling but often frustrating years culminated last offseason in a bitter holdout, with one of the game's greatest receivers publicly distancing himself from the NFL's worst team. This offseason, his increasing age and a one-year decline in production could create a potential pay cut for the fiercely proud veteran - one who may become the first athlete under Bob McNair's ownership to make the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

But for two hours in mid-December, Johnson has professional and personal peace inside an expansive top-floor suite that's equidistant between downtown Houston and NRG Stadium.

More Information Andre Johnson timeline July 11, 1981 Karen Johnson gives birth to Andre Johnson. Andre Melton, Karen's brother and Andre's uncle, becomes a father figure for the child and earns the name Uncle Dre. 1987 Johnson begins playing football at 6. 1995 Johnson attends Miami Senior High School, which is 30 minutes from his family's house and wasn't the original school he was set to attend. 1998 Johnson catches 31 passes for 908 yards and 15 touchdowns during his senior season. He is named a Parade All-American while also lettering in track and basketball. 1999 Recruited by Butch Davis and future Indianapolis Colts coach Chuck Pagano, Johnson agrees to attend the University of Miami. He redshirts during his first year as receivers Santana Moss and Reggie Wayne guide Miami to a 9-4 record. 2000 The Hurricanes go 11-1, finishing second in the final Associated Press poll. Johnson catches three balls for 57 yards as a freshman, also returning kickoffs. 2001 Miami has its best season in a decade. The Hurricanes finish 12-0, defeating Nebraska 37-14 in the Rose Bowl. The U is the national champion. Johnson collects 37 receptions for 682 yards and 10 touchdowns, earning All-Big East honors. Clinton Portis, Willis McGahee, Frank Gore, Jeremy Shockey, Kellen Winslow, Ed Reed, Jonathan Vilma, Antrel Rolle and Vince Wilfork join Johnson on one of the premier college teams of the 2000s. 2002 Johnson leads the Hurricanes in receiving yards (1,092) during his junior year and is named the Rose Bowl's co-player of the game. Miami finishes 12-1 and second in the AP poll after falling to Ohio State 31-24 in the Fiesta Bowl. Johnson declares for the NFL draft. April 26, 2003 The Texans, in their second year of existence, make Johnson the No. 3 overall pick of the draft. Quarterback Carson Palmer (Cincinnati) is taken first. Wide receiver Charles Rogers (Detroit) precedes Johnson. May 2003 Johnson moves to Houston. Uncle Dre soon follows. Sept. 7, 2003 Johnson makes his first NFL start. He catches a team-high six passes for 76 yards in the Texans' season debut. The Texans beat the Dolphins 21-20 in Johnson's hometown of Miami. Johnson finishes the year with 66 catches for 976 yards and four touchdowns. He starts all 16 games while pairing with second-year quarterback David Carr, the No. 1 pick of the 2002 draft. 2004 Johnson takes a major step forward during his second season. He leads the Texans in receptions (79), receiving yards (1,142) and touchdown catches (six). Selected to his first of seven Pro Bowls, Johnson is the youngest member of the AFC squad. 2005 Johnson misses three games because of a calf injury that plagues him all season. His numbers drop to 63 catches, 688 yards and two touchdowns. The Texans fall to 2-14 after reaching 7-9 the previous year. Jan. 3, 2006 The Texans fire expansion coach Dom Capers. First-time head coach Gary Kubiak is hired. Carr remains the Texans' starting quarterback. 2006 Johnson flourishes during Kubiak's first season. The receiver leads the NFL in catches (103). His 65 receptions through eight games are the third-most in NFL history. March 3, 2007 Johnson's contract is extended for the first time, via an eight-year deal. 2007 Injuries continue to drag down Johnson. He misses seven games because of a knee injury, and his 60 catches are the fewest of his career thus far. But the Texans reach .500 for the first time, with new quarterback Matt Schaub - acquired in a trade from Atlanta - leading the team to an 8-8 record in Kubiak's second year. 2008 Johnson bounces back with the best receiving year of his career. He leads the NFL with 115 receptions and 1,575 yards. Earning his first All-Pro honor, Johnson is named to his third Pro Bowl. The Texans finish 8-8 for the second consecutive year. 2009 The Texans break .500 for the first time, finishing 9-7 with the NFL's fourth-ranked offense. Johnson is named an All-Pro for the second consecutive year, leading the NFL with 1,569 yards and catching a career-high nine touchdowns. May 2010 With five years left on his contract, Johnson skips voluntary offseason workouts. Agent Kennard McGuire and Uncle Dre push for a new deal. Aug. 6, 2010 Johnson returns to the Texans after agreeing to a two-year extension that runs through 2016. He says he wants to remain with the team for the rest of his career. "It's important to us that Andre have one home, and that's with the Texans," owner Bob McNair says. 2010 The Texans drop to 6-10, mostly due to a weak defense that ranks 29th out of 32 teams in points allowed. Johnson is limited to 13 games but reaches 1,000 yards for the third consecutive season and receives his fifth Pro Bowl selection. 2011 The Texans begin to rise under Kubiak and Schaub. Wade Phillips tightens up the team's defense. With running back Arian Foster propelling the team's offense, the Texans reach 10 wins for the first time and claim their first AFC South title. But Johnson has his worst year as a pro, playing in only seven games because of hamstring injuries and recording just 492 receiving yards on 33 catches, both career lows. 2012 Johnson rebounds again, and the Texans peak. Starting all 16 games, Johnson sets a career high with 1,598 receiving yards. The Texans reach 11-1, finish 12-4, collect their second consecutive divisiona title and win their second playoff game in franchise history. 2013 Johnson continues his late-career surge, but the Texans fall apart. An NFL-worst 2-14 record leads to Schaub losing his job and Kubiak being fired. Phillips is let go after the season. Johnson earns his seventh Pro Bowl honor, recording at least 109 catches and 1,407 yards for the second consecutive year. But the Texans enter full rebuild mode for the third time in his career. Years of frustration boil over for No. 80. May 13, 2014 Johnson questions whether Houston is still the "place for me" at a charity event. Uncle Dre watches from the back of the room. July 25, 2014 Johnson reports to training camp under first-year coach Bill O'Brien. His contract isn't extended or restructured after the receiver is at the center of offseason trade rumors. But Johnson is given an assurance that he remains in the team's long-term plans. "I love playing this game. … I don't plan on walking away from this," says Johnson, entering his 12th season. Dec. 21, 2014 Led by Case Keenum, the Texans reach 8-7 with a first-year coach and their fourth quarterback of the season. Johnson becomes the second-fastest player in NFL history with 1,000 catches. In an unpredictable season that sees Johnson joke he needs to find an island during the open week, the longest-tenured Texan also says he wants to finish his career in Houston and play two more years, fulfilling a contract that runs through 2016. The franchise Texans wide receiver Andre Johnson reached 1,000 career catches faster than any player in NFL history except Indianapolis' Marvin Harrison. Twelve seasons into his potential Hall of Fame career, Johnson is the longest-tenured and greatest Texan. 63 Receiving touchdowns NFL rank: tied-60th 80.1 Yards per game NFL rank: 4th 1,002 Receptions NFL rank: 9th 13,463 Receiving yards NFL rank: 12th 13,517 Yards from scrimmage NFL rank: 34th

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"I don't think I'm going nowhere else," he says.

It's taken Johnson 33 years to build this. Two worlds, two lives. Johnson as the instantly famous, intentionally quiet Texan, his whispered voice barely heard while his name, number and stature can be touched only by the burning star that is J.J. Watt, teammate and NFL MVP candidate. Johnson as the loved son, father and friend, whose roaring laughter and class clown-like jokes are heard only by those he believes in and trusts.

Everyone who knows the Texans knows No. 80. Few actually know Johnson. The ones who do say the public Johnson is a protective cover for the private. Take off the uniform, remove 12 seasons of professional camouflage, see the real Johnson.

The 6-year-old child who gave his heart to football, swore to his mother he would take care of her, then discovered that a father he never knew was shot to death three states away. The multimillionaire many times over, whose every professional step is watched, guarded and shadowed by a tough-loving, tougher-minded uncle. The adoring father of a vibrant 5-year-old daughter, who plays daddy during the offseason, lives alone during the Texans' season and already is building his retirement house in the city he has refused to walk away from.

"He's very genuine in what he does … and that's why Houston loves him," Texans running back Arian Foster said.

That's the simple story. One world. The public Johnson.

This is the real story. The private world. The Andre Johnson no one knows.

The only Texan who has lasted didn't have a name.

Karen Johnson was pregnant. Andre Melton, Karen's younger brother, said that if his sister gave birth to a boy, the child would partially belong to him.

The siblings lost their own mother in their early 20s. Karen was about to become a single mom while still in college at Tennessee State. Even though Melton had only a familial connection, he passionately claimed the unborn child as his own, tightening a life bond that already had turned brother and sister into best friends.

"I would say, 'That's my baby. That's my son,' " Melton said. "I would say all kind of crazy stuff."

He kept saying something else. Melton's first name was Andre. That should be the baby's name, too.

"I was probably the most nagging brother she could have had," Melton said.

Karen had her nameless boy. Melton became an uncle. After months of nurturing and a day of waiting, the child finally was given a name: Andre Johnson.

Melton became Uncle Dre.

Andre, his mother and the man who would now watch over him would live together. They would survive together. If life was willing, they would thrive together.

"It started when Andre was an infant," Karen said. "It's been like that from Day 1."

The greatest Texan grew up staring at the NFL's shadow.

Karen was Miami-born and -raised. After her son's birth, she mothered and worked - everything from the Army Reserve to the local school board - while Uncle Dre hovered as a father figure. Andre's biological dad was an absentee father, so siblings and relatives crowded into a small house as the family survived. Within sight of Andre's tiny home: Joe Robbie Stadium, the enormous pro football field of the Miami Dolphins.

"I don't think I really realized the size of the house that we lived in at the time," Andre said. "You look back on it and you're like, 'Man, all of us were living in this place?' "

Andre escaped by playing on inner-city streets. He found football at 6, fell hard for the beautiful violence of the game and grew from a Miami Senior High School star and 2001 national champion at the University of Miami to a seven-time Pro Bowler, currently ranked No. 9 on the NFL's all-time receptions list (1,002) and 12th in yards (13,463).

"He was a quiet kid," said Nathaniel Thompson, a Miami Senior assistant coach. "He was a humble kid. Very, very humble."

The public Andre hid the private Andre.

Before the growing receiver made it to Miami Senior, Karen coldly changed her son's life. Andre was often reserved and withdrawn. But he made friends in junior high who brought out his extroverted, jokester side. Andre, the class clown. Andre, the cut-up. Karen, who had life-predicting dreams during Andre's youth that later became true, suddenly saw darkness: the wrong crowd, the wrong path, a lost life. Andre's mother had devoted herself to keeping her family safe and tightly bound. She wasn't going to lose her son when his world was just beginning.

"I just decided to transfer him to where he knew no one and no one knew him," Karen said. "And that settled that."

While his friends stayed on their set school path, Andre was forced to abruptly change his world, attending high school 30 minutes away from his home. As Karen drove past her work, took Andre to Miami Senior, then drove back to her job, her son was outcast as an invisible freshman.

Two decades removed from the decision, a man who made $10 million in guaranteed money this year is grateful for his mother's hard hand. He also still feels the pain of the change.

"Everybody who meets my mom is like, 'Man, you have the coolest mom in the world,' " Andre said. "And I always tell 'em, 'Yeah, you didn't have to deal with the growing-up stage.' She was very tough on me. … You appreciate it now. Back then you was just like, 'Man, she's on me about every little thing.' When you get mad, you suck your teeth: 'Why's she doing this?' "

Karen could be even harder. As Andre became attached to the football field, his dedication in the classroom wavered. A phone call from school about Andre causing trouble in class became a breaking point. Karen raised her hand to rein her boy back in.

"I got the belt like I normally do … and I hit him with the belt," Karen said. "It hurt me so bad. When I finished, I went into my room and I just fell on my knees. And I was crying and I was like, 'Lord, I need your help. I don't know how to be a mother. I don't know how to be a father. But I need your help. I need you to teach me how to raise my son.' "

A week later, Andre wrote a school essay. He handed the paper to his mother. Everything she had been trying to get her child to understand was written down for Karen to see.

"The tears just began to flow," she said. "And I was like, 'OK, God. He gets it.' "

Andre's father always had a name.

Leroy Richardson.

Football player, track runner, just like his son.

From when Andre was 5 to 13, Richardson was around the family. But he wasn't a real father, and Uncle Dre was the closest thing Andre ever had to a dad.

"When he found out I wasn't going to get back with him, he turned his back on his son," Karen said. "I went to him and I said, 'Hey, just because we're not together, don't turn your back on your son.' But he did it anyway."

In the third grade, Andre saw his father while he was walking back from school. There was no communication, no contact, no love. Nothing.

Karen: "What did you guys talk about?"

Andre: "He didn't see me. So I didn't see him, either."

Karen, 25 years later: "That was the end of that relationship. Nothing else happened after that."

Andre remembers something else. A few years pass and he is playing football with friends. The man who helped create him is riding a bike through the neighborhood. Richardson wheels up to one of Andre's friends. A message is relayed: The man on the bike wants to speak with Andre. The boy born without a name, already holding a bitter grudge, feels nothing for his father.

"I didn't go," Andre said. "Because I was just like, 'What in the hell you want with me? I've been here this whole time and you stay not far away, so why even speak to me now?' "

Miami Senior becomes The U. Andre - whom Hall of Famer Michael Irvin calls the greatest wide receiver in Hurricanes history - adds his name to the legacy. The allure of pro football awaits. Andre starts thinking about reconnecting with the father who ignored him as a child.

August 2002. Andre is nine months away from becoming the No. 3 overall pick of the 2003 NFL draft by the Texans. Richardson's life suddenly ends via gunshots in Mississippi. Andre's dad is dead. They never spoke during the boy's youth. They never will.

"You just kind of sit back and think about if things were different, you could've got that time to spend with him," Andre said. "But unfortunately it didn't work out that way. You hate to hear that, even though I didn't have a relationship with him. At the end of the day, he was still my dad - there was nothing you could change about that. So, I don't know. It was an unfortunate thing that happened."

Tears decades in the making fall when Richardson dies. Then Andre lets his father go.

"When you're a child and your dad is within arm distance of you and never reach out to you, that's a very hurt feeling," Uncle Dre said. "And some kids could grow up angry that way. But by the supporting cast that he had … that helped him through that rough time."

One man never let the greatest Texan go.

Understanding Andre is impossible without understanding Uncle Dre. Explaining Uncle Dre is critical to discovering the real Andre.

A young Andre is playing football with friends on a Miami city street. A man pulls up in a truck. The game stops. Uncle Dre wants to play all-time quarterback. Again. For both teams.

"Everybody used to be like, 'Aw, man. Why is he coming over here today?' " Andre said. "We used to argue with him … because we felt like he used to mess our games up."

As Andre traded beat-up streets for real fields, the man who watched over him did the same. Andre's tough-love guardian dissected youth games, viewing everything as closely and personally as possible. When Uncle Dre wanted the boy named after him to fake a punt, Andre would hear a piercing whistle directed straight toward his ears.

"It was crazy," Andre said. "But it was a good relationship."

Crazy.

Uncle Dre uses the word. Andre does, too. It's always followed by "good," "loyalty" or "friendship." For 33 years, Uncle Dre and Andre have been personally united - they both answer to a shortened version of their name, "Dre," and call each other the same. For 12 seasons, the duo have built, fought and risen together as businessmen, blending individual personalities and desires for the greater good of No. 80.

"It's definitely a little give and take," said Texans cornerback Johnathan Joseph, Andre's closest friend on the team. "Everyone in life has to have someone they can go to and count on and trust. And the one person in his life he's able to put that trust in in any situation is his uncle."

When Andre moved to Houston in 2003, Uncle Dre followed as his adviser. He is not listed as a certified agent by the NFL Players Association; longtime Houston-based agent Kennard McGuire handles the official business side of Andre's contract negotiations. But Uncle Dre navigates and orchestrates every part of Andre's professional life, shadowing his sister's child at charity events, finalizing the receiver's daily calendar and providing harsh personal critiques after nationally televised games.

When Andre fumbled late in the fourth quarter during a 33-28 home loss to Indianapolis on Oct. 9, frustrated fans turned to the Internet to vent. Andre put the loss on his 6-3, 230-pound shoulders, but teammates absolved him of blame. Uncle Dre didn't buy it. The childhood all-time QB had always found the hidden, decisive moments in high school games - his nephew getting jammed at the line, losing a shot at another catch. Against the Colts, a potential Hall of Famer had blown it. The uncle didn't hesitate to let the kid he helped raise know how badly he had messed up.

"That drop was so big in that game," Uncle Dre said. "Even to this day, I let him know: 'Hey, that was a game-changer.' … These are plays that can make you or break you."

Rather than fire back or distance himself, Andre pulls Uncle Dre in. During an era of flashy entourages and "yes men" placing protective bubbles around multimillion-dollar stars, the longtime face of the Texans wants someone he has known his entire life to pierce through everything during the truest moments.

"He's going to say whatever he wants to say, whenever he wants to say it," Andre said. "He uses no filter."

Andre does. It creates his personal/public divide, allowing him to live in two worlds. The filter has provided 12 years of balance for the longest-tenured Texans player, whose career in Houston has been marked by franchise records, two playoff wins, multiple contract disputes, an unending shuffle of quarterbacks and an 83-108 lifetime record.

When years of frustration finally boiled over last May - Andre questioned whether the rebuilding Texans were "still the place" for him at a charity event - his father figure watched alone from the back of the room. Andre is more than ever his own man. He makes the final call for himself, his career and the family that followed him from Miami to Houston. But everywhere Andre goes, Uncle Dre follows.

"There's not a thing Uncle Dre would not do for Little Dre," McGuire said. "I can appreciate the bond and the loyalty. People misunderstand Uncle Dre. Because at the end of the day, all he wants is what's best for his nephew. He doesn't want anything else."

The boy who didn't have a name slowly walks away from the window.

Houston waits in the background. The Texans, who have an off day, are again between quarterbacks. Andre's football life is paused. He picks up his smartphone, finds a video and hits play.

A little girl - white tanktop, pink shorts, braided hair - stands on a pillow, quickly scales a headboard and proudly sits above an unmade bed.

This is Kylie. Feisty, highly energetic, 5. She is Andre's daughter. She is the dearest part of his second world.

"No matter how bad your day is, just being around her changes everything," said Andre, who splits custody with ex-girlfriend Dionne Reese.

Karen, Uncle Dre and coach Bill O'Brien are among the few who can get away with boldly telling the greatest Texans player to do something and do it now. At stoplights, Andre will calmly sit in the driver's seat, keeping his eyes on a hard red signal. Kylie will break the silence: "Go, daddy! Go, go, go!"

After practice, Andre will return home and begin talking on the phone. Kylie endlessly repeats the same phrase - "Hi, daddy. Hi, daddy. Hi, daddy" - until her father tells the person on the other line he really does have to go.

"I enjoy every moment of it," Andre said. "She's a handful. She knows a lot, she recognizes a lot - she's a character."

The father recently decided to surprise his daughter by picking her up from school. When one of the greatest receivers in NFL history opened his car door, Kylie's eyes went wide. She screamed "Daddy!" and sprinted toward Andre. Then she squeezed her father's neck with the same intensity she scaled the headboard.

The outside world never sees the real Andre. Watching a father smile, laugh and blush while he gushes about his daughter is as close as anyone not in Andre's private circle will get.

"That's the most amazing thing to see those two together," Karen said. "They're like twins, really. She acts just like him, and she loves her dad."

Andre always had a father figure in Uncle Dre. But he never had a father he could speak, laugh or live with. He didn't even have a dad he could get close enough to love.

Andre adores Kylie because she is the best thing that has happened to him. But like so much in his two-world life, there is a deeper current. Andre swore that if he ever had children, he would be around as much as possible and never let them down. Kylie is the living proof.

"I know when his dad passed, it really gave him a turn," Uncle Dre said. "And when he became a dad it showed him, 'Hey, never be that guy who you saw when you were 8 years old that didn't reach out to you.' Always have a relationship with your daughter, no matter what goes on."

The greatest Texan doesn't talk.

Everyone knew it, so Johnathan Joseph just accepted it. If Andre did speak, he whispered so softly you could barely hear anything. So why bother?

"I'd say five words, and I'd be the only one talking," Joseph said.

Then the Texans cornerback discovered the other Andre. The private world. The real No. 80.

The connection was simple. Defensive back Dunta Robinson had been selected by the Texans in the first round in 2004, the year after Andre was drafted. Robinson, who left the Texans after the 2009 season, went to college at South Carolina. Joseph, who joined the Texans as a 2011 free agent, also was a Gamecock. Shared friends and lives - all silent Andre needed to reach out and open up.

He walked across the Texans' locker room, pulled up a chair and started doing the unthinkable. Andre talked. Then he kept talking. Then he wouldn't stop.

"He's a jokester," Joseph said. "He likes to clown around and laugh a lot. He's got a big personality."

Andre was just getting started. Three years after meeting Joseph, the public whisperer has become a private comedian. As soon as Andre sees his friend, five words stream out of a smiling mouth: "I've got one for you."

It's joke time. Andre has a new one. He's ready to test it out.

"It's 24/7 now," Joseph said. "It used to be to the point where I would bring the jokes to him. … I done opened him all the way up."

Stephanie Belton, consultant for Andre's charity foundation, insists the only No. 80 she knows is the one who won't stop chatting.

McGuire, Andre's agent, recalls a two-hour phone conservation that began when McGuire landed in Houston at George Bush Intercontinental Airport. The yapping didn't finish until McGuire navigated traffic, crossed the city and entered his house.

"People don't think that Andre Johnson talks," McGuire said. "He is a clown."

Andre was a cut-up as a child, then silenced. With the Texans, he has opened up like never before. The receiver watched every player he befriended in 2003 eventually leave the organization, as coaches, quarterbacks and teammates constantly changed. After 12 seasons of personal and professional maturation, the 2014 Texans see the real Andre clearer than ever. The talker. The jokester. The clown.

"We call him Big Homie," Foster said. "He's my big homie. … He has a teammate and a friend for life in me, because he's a good dude. And it's just been an honor getting to know him."

A camera shutter clicks. Video cameras roll. Andre removes his protective cover and reveals all.

The mother who guided him. The uncle who fights for him. The daughter who inspires him. His dead father. The silence almost everyone hears. The laughter seen only by those he trusts.

The public Andre. The other Andre. The real No. 80.

The greatest Texan rises from a chair, looks again at glowing downtown Houston, then checks out the suite, confidently moving from room to room.

He could have this. He could own almost anything. But for 12 years, he has been missing the one thing all his fame and money can't buy.

"The city's waiting for a winner," Andre says. "We got to experience it a little bit the two years we made the playoffs. You couldn't go nowhere. Everywhere you went, fans were going crazy. So you just sit there and imagine if we win a Super Bowl, what it would be like. … I'm hoping that it gets here pretty soon."

The Texans have risen, fallen and rebuilt. Andre has waited. He always wanted to build something from scratch. It would mean more to him that way. It would be more real.

He's building his retirement house in the city where he made his name. Karen moved to Houston last year, joining her son. Uncle Dre hasn't left. Kylie wears her father's jersey to home games, congratulating "Daddy" outside the Texans' locker room whenever he scores a touchdown. Andre started falling for Houston in 2003. Twelve seasons later, Miami is his second city.

"I look at it as home," Andre says. "Houston has accepted me from the time I was drafted. It's always shown me a lot of love with people in the community, and I try to give that love back. … I never thought I would leave Miami. To be here, it's given me a whole different outlook on life."

Andre wants three more years of a Texans life. And a championship ring. The desires may never match up. He knows it. A potential career-altering offseason looms; the receiver already is preparing to be asked by the organization to take a pay cut. But Bob McNair said he is a lifetime Texan, Andre still believes in the owner's word and Houston never has meant more to No. 80.

His city stares back at him. Sunlight pours through the window.

Andre Johnson. Houston. One world.

"That's the dream. That's what I hope for," Andre says. "When you've spent a lot of time somewhere, you hope that you can finish your career there and walk off into the sunset in that one place."