MIAMI — It’s a curious notion to consider Andy Reid the emotional favorite of Super Bowl LIV because, for the past 20 years, he has tried to show as little emotion as possible. Some might call his public persona Belichickian, but if you really scrutinize the news conference demeanor of both coaches, New England’s Bill Belichick is merely the angrier version of Reid, the truest and most committed master of monotone.

Still, there is something endearing about the Kansas City Chiefs coach nicknamed Big Red. He is more Big Gray now, suddenly 61, no longer the young Green Bay quarterbacks coach who went to Philadelphia and built a sustainable winner that achieved everything except a Super Bowl triumph. Steady success defines him: 15 playoff appearances over 21 seasons in Philadelphia and Kansas City, just three losing campaigns, 207 regular-season victories and 14 more postseason wins. Yet Reid might be most known for recovering from heartbreak.

There are the agonizing defeats on the football field, including five losses in the conference championship round. And there was the greater, personal loss in 2012 when his oldest son, Garrett, died of a heroin overdose. At the end of that season, Reid lost his job with the Eagles after finishing 4-12, the worst record of his career. Instead of taking a break, he jumped at the chance to rebuild the Chiefs, who were a 2-14 team when he arrived. Under Reid, the Chiefs haven’t had a losing season, and now he’s leading them to their first Super Bowl in 50 years. And they have arrived in Miami with a 24-year-old MVP quarterback, and the fastest and most stylish offense the NFL has seen in quite some time.

This is Reid’s second Super Bowl appearance, and though it seems Kansas City is set up to chase championships for several more years, you should know better than to dream that far ahead. Reid definitely knows better. His best opportunity is before him right now; this game offers no assurances about the future. Reid understands how hard it is to get here. With 221 victories in the regular season and playoffs combined, he occupies a dubious place in history as the winningest NFL coach who hasn’t won the big one.

Many people who respect his consistency and human decency would chew a hole in the wood to help him get through that championship door. But for as much as Reid probably wants it, his perspective remains as balanced as ever.

Reid won’t make it about him. He never has, not even when he was grieving the unthinkable loss of his son. When you want him to say more than “He did a nice job” in answering a question, you consider him boring. But this week, as he resists talk of his legacy as he prepares for San Francisco, it is easier to admire Reid’s approach.

“I’m not good with all of that,” Reid said when asked whether a Super Bowl win could boost his Hall of Fame candidacy. “I’m just trying to get where we can do well against the 49ers and win that game.”

Reid was the first coach I covered after college during a one-year stint with the Philadelphia Inquirer. He was tough for a young journalist because he wouldn’t elevate a mediocre question with a delightful anecdote. But when he wasn’t standing behind a bouquet of microphones, Reid was different. He would do quick one-on-ones with the beat writers during the week if you needed him, and during those moments you realized he wasn’t just a coach behind a lectern with a purposely flat affect because he hated the media. In private, Reid is charismatic. He’s passionate and more spirited than he seems. He’s funny, and his humor extends beyond the disarming, self-deprecating jokes he often makes about his weight when he wants to lighten the mood.

But more than anything, I remember he had a way of connecting and instilling confidence in people, and when I was 22 and in over my head, it meant a lot to realize the seemingly gruff head coach could have a calming effect.

At the end of our conversations, Reid used to say complimentary things about my writing style, and we had ongoing chats about poetry and creating images with words. We would talk about our love for reading. All the while, he was patient in helping me learn some of the nuances needed to cover a professional sports beat. It wasn’t some fantastic, call-me-anytime, I’ll-tell-you-anything relationship, but it had good substance.

“He’s a great man,” said Kansas City offensive coordinator Eric Bieniemy, who played for Reid during his final season in 1999. “He’s a great human. He’s a great mentor. He’s a great leader.”

On Sunday, the Chiefs wore white and red Hawaiian shirts during their flight to south Florida to celebrate Reid’s return to the Super Bowl. On Monday, the players wore another one of his favorite items, Nike Air Force 1 shoes, to the Opening Night event. Reid has always had close relationships with his players, but he seems especially close to his current team.

“It’s literally like playing with a father figure,” punter Dustin Colquitt said.

Reid gave his current defensive coordinator, Steve Spagnuolo, his first NFL job 20 years ago. Spagnuolo considers it the most important relationship of his career.

“It’s because of the respect I have for him,” Spagnuolo said. “Andy’s the very best in the league, in my opinion. He’s rock-solid. Never up, never down. When it’s going bad … when I first came to Philadelphia, I remember we had a couple of bad losses, and you’re going into the staff meeting and you’re waiting for the head coach to rip everybody. Never Andy. Just steady. ‘Let’s keep doing what we’re doing, guys,’ and everybody buys into that. It’s easy to believe in Andy Reid because of the way he is. It really is.”

Reid ranks sixth among coaches on the career victories list. The five ahead of him are legends: Don Shula, George Halas, Belichick, Tom Landry and Earl “Curly” Lambeau. As an offensive innovator, he has grown from being a sharp teacher and play caller in the West Coast offense to the creator of a hybrid system that mixes West Coast principles with college concepts designed to put speedy players in space. And with Patrick Mahomes as his quarterback, it feels as though there are still possibilities left to imagine.

In stabilizing two previously mercurial franchises, Reid has done work that would excite just about any coaching purist. The only thing he lacks is that Lombardi Trophy.

So here he is, finally back at the Super Bowl, wearing an epic floral red Tommy Bahama shirt. And unless you’re a 49ers fan or root for one of the Chiefs’ fiercest rivals, you should be drawn to Reid, his story and his pursuit of the elusive.

“I’ve had so many good experiences in my career,” Reid said. “I’m not thinking about pressure or anything. Just taking it all in and getting ready to try to play a good football game. I’m going to enjoy this.”

On the outside, he’s chill and monotone, as usual. So you’ll have to want it for him. Reid will keep his true feelings tucked underneath his trademark bushy mustache. But, come on, Big Red has done enough to deserve a big ring, hasn’t he?

If he finally breaks through, let’s see him try to suppress those emotions.