American Football: King of the Bay Area

”Lu Ke! Lu Ke! Lu Ke!”

Inside the players’ tunnel, a cacophony of frantic shouts was endless. The roars crashed violently against the surrounding walls, ricocheting back and layering on top of one another. The overlapping echoes created a natural amplification effect, magnifying every sound ten, even a hundred times over. It was like thunder pounding mercilessly against his eardrums, so much so that he momentarily lost his ability to think, and all the noise blurred into a meaningless, buzzing drone.

In his line of sight, wave after wave of reporters were spread out before him. Every one of them was madly surging forward, trying to get closer, just a little closer. If they could have shoved their recorders into Lu Ke’s mouth, they would have done so without hesitation, as if that was the only way to get a firsthand scoop.

The entire space echoed with a volcanic eruption of noise and clamor. The faces began to twist and distort, like Demons from purgatory.

Lu Ke couldn’t help but pause. He had experienced quite a few ”firsts” today: the first time he’d witnessed the home crowd’s support at Candlestick Park, the first time he’d secured a clean and decisive victory, and also, the first time he’d seen reporters completely lose control.

A scene like this would typically only occur when interviewing the Alliance’s top superstars, like Peyton Manning or Aaron Rodgers. But today, it was unfolding right before Lu Ke’s eyes. His name had become the keyword everyone was desperately shouting, like a magic spell erupting with endless energy from their lips.

In a daze, Lu Ke had the strange illusion that they weren’t calling for him, but for some other player named ”Luke.”

Lu Ke subconsciously turned his head, searching among the teammates behind him for the person the reporters were calling for, but he came up empty.

His teammates all came up, laughing and slapping him on the shoulder, teasing him about the media frenzy and signaling for him to hurry up and face the interview. Even Patrick Willis cracked a joke, ”Hurry up and take the interview. These reporters are getting impatient, and you know, a gentleman should never keep his other half waiting.”

Lu Ke rolled his eyes, speechless. Seeing his teammates burst into laughter, he finally snapped out of it and started walking toward the throng of reporters. There were only fifty or sixty of them, but the seething chaos gave the illusion of five or six hundred. The crowd spread out endlessly, like a monster with its jaws wide open, waiting for Lu Ke to walk into the lion’s den.

”Lu Ke!” ”Game!” ”Today!” ”Team!” ”How?” ”Form!” ... Countless voices rose and fell at once. Entire sentences were shattered, leaving only disconnected, meaningless syllables that were impossible to piece together into coherent thoughts, let alone answer.

Lu Ke had no choice but to raise his hands and press them down firmly. ”Qui... Quiet!” He tried to shout, but after spending the entire game in a hyped-up state—constantly calling out tactics and shouting slogans—his throat was scratchy, and his voice wouldn’t come out. He had to adjust, sinking his breath into his Dantian before roaring, ”Quiet!”

Finally, the reporters in the front gradually quieted down; then, the ones in the back also closed their mouths. The raucous noise at last subsided into silence.

”First question?” Lu Ke picked up a towel, wiped the sweat rolling down his cheeks, and took on the role of moderator himself.

”Excuse me, as a rookie player who just achieved a huge victory today, what do you think was the main reason? Luck?”

No one raised a hand; the first question just flew out. Lu Ke followed the sound with his eyes.

It was a familiar face. Although they had only met for the first time last week in Philadelphia, Lu Ke had a deep impression of the man: Harry Weens, a reporter for ”Sports Illustrated.” It wasn’t because the man was particularly friendly or pleasant, nor because he was especially sharp or harsh, but because he would stop at nothing to create a sensational headline.

Since the 1990s, the concept of ”amusing ourselves to death” had emerged. The ”uncrowned kings” of journalism gradually stepped down from their pedestals. In the pursuit of creating news, fabricating hot topics, boosting magazine and newspaper sales, and especially, chasing online click rates, reporters began to resort to any means necessary. They wouldn’t even hesitate to use distorted, misleading, and one-sided perspectives to artificially manufacture gimmicks and ignite controversy. Michael Jackson was one of the media’s first major victims.

’At the end of the day, it’s all about profit.’

Driven by sufficient profit, the ”amusing ourselves to death” concept was officially born. After entering the 21st century, against the backdrop of the internet era, ”clickbait” media blossomed everywhere, gradually forming a new kind of fast-food culture. Truth and facts were no longer the media’s pursuit; hot topics, gimmicks, and controversy were.

Paparazzi, in order to manufacture news, would even deliberately provoke their subjects. They’d actively use their cameras to maliciously bump into the interviewees. The best-case scenario was the subject smashing the camera or even violently assaulting the reporter—that would be a headline. If the reporter ended up bloodied, the front page was guaranteed, and the paparazzi would also seize the high ground in public opinion.

The ”uncrowned kings” had truly become a thing of the past.

Before, Lu Ke had only been a student, learning about the historical development of journalism. But now, he had become a part of it. ’What an interesting turn of events.’

Clearly, the Harry Weens standing before him was well-versed in this art.

”If it was, then I’ll start going to church today and pray that this luck continues.” Lu Ke gently raised an eyebrow, a smile playing on his lips as he responded in a relaxed manner.

At this answer, the reporters couldn’t help but chuckle softly. But Harry didn’t show much of a reaction, immediately following up with an aggressive question, ”After last week’s loss, there were rumors of problems inside the team’s locker room, conflicts between players, specifically directed at you. Do you have any response to that?”

”No.” Lu Ke’s reply was short and crisp, a stark contrast to Harry’s long-winded question. Everyone was a bit slow to react, stunned for a moment.

Harry hadn’t expected that. He’d assumed rookie players were typically hot-headed and impulsive; they would either be desperate to explain themselves, leaving holes in their lengthy diatribes for him to exploit, or they would respond forcefully, creating a verbal conflict. But the Lu Ke before him was nothing like that.

So, Harry pressed on, ”Are you sure? There was no conflict in the locker room?”

”I’m not quite sure where your sources are from, but I think it would be faster and more direct for you to just ask your informant.” The sarcastic tone implied the accusation was baseless. Compared to a direct explanation, this approach was far more skillful and dignified.

Lu Ke’s counterattack was flawless. Harry vaguely felt this was getting tricky, but he had no intention of giving up.

As the hottest figure in the Alliance right now, Lu Ke’s every word and action represented clicks, traffic, and profit. Back when Kurt Warner burst onto the scene, online news was nowhere near as developed, and his influence was relatively limited. But now, propelled by the spread of social media, the sensational effect of the news had reached a whole new level. The profits, naturally, were also far more worth digging for.

”Last year, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ quarterback, Josh Freeman, had an absolutely spectacular performance and a super season. Now, we can see a shadow of Freeman in you. So, do you think you can maintain your current form next year?” Harry’s angle of attack was undoubtedly novel and sharp—

Rookie players were always like this, their performance inconsistent. Just like Freeman—a hero last year, but now just another face in the crowd. The goal wasn’t to ask a question, but to infuriate Lu Ke.

”I’ll cross my fingers and pray hard.” Lu Ke raised his hands, crossing his index and middle fingers. With that, he effortlessly deflected Harry’s question.

”So you’re not confident?” Harry pressed, his tone aggressive.

This time, Lu Ke didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gave Harry a look that was half-smile, half-sneer, and paused for a moment before speaking. ”I thought everyone was more concerned about *this* game, but this reporter here is already worried about my next season. I’m truly grateful for such deep concern and high expectations. But I have to wonder, don’t the rest of you have any questions about the here and now?”

His words, like a needle wrapped in cotton, mocked Harry’s eager intentions.

The other reporters couldn’t help but chuckle. Harry’s pupils contracted slightly. ’Clearly, this rookie is even tougher to handle than I imagined. To have such wisdom and composure at twenty-two... that’s truly rare.’

Harry’s pause left an opening, and another reporter jumped in with a question. ”After last week’s regrettable loss, your team played a spectacular game this week against the Pirate Team, who were ranked first in the National League South. What happened this past week?”

’Jay Fox. A true friend,’ Lu Ke thought. The question was clever, leaving plenty of room for a good answer. It stuck to the day’s theme while also touching on hot-button issues. Both last week’s loss and this week’s showdown for the top spot in the division were major points of interest.

Lu Ke could see Jay’s good intentions. A slight smile crept into his eyes, as if to say, ’Looks like you did your homework, huh?’

But he didn’t pause, answering directly, ”Nothing special. Last week’s loss was a regret for us, but it was also a motivation. We’re a very young team, so what we needed to do was use that failure to spark our desire for victory, pour everything we had into training, and then hope to get a win. Judging by the result, we succeeded.”

It was a standard, by-the-book answer, with no real bombshells. But after finishing, Lu Ke added, ”And maybe, tonight I won’t have to worry about the entire media questioning my starting position. Thanks for your concern.”

A pause, and then, laughter.