American Football: King of the Bay Area

“In truth, I’ve never considered breaking any records. I’m serious.” The reporters’ clamor finally quieted down, and the free-for-all interview shifted to individual questions. Lu Ke began to answer in earnest, “For me, my life’s focus is on giving it my all, staying free of distractions, concentrating on each week of training and games, and working hard to prove I’m a qualified starting quarterback.”

At this, Lu Ke paused for a moment. His gaze swept over the reporters’ faces before he broke into a wide grin and asked, “Am I wrong?”

Standing in the crowd, Jay Fox couldn’t hold back and let out a stifled snort of laughter.

Ever since taking over the starting quarterback position for the San Francisco 49ers as an undrafted rookie and a Chinese-American quarterback, the media’s doubts, jeers, and taunts had been incessant.

Even after five touchdowns in the first game of the season, even after starting with a three-game winning streak, the dominant narrative in the media remained one of skepticism and ridicule. No one was willing to believe that this Chinese-American undrafted rookie could find a firm footing in the Alliance; many even continued to question Lu Ke’s position as a starter.

This state of affairs continued until Week 6 of the regular season, when the San Francisco 49ers defeated the Detroit Lions on the road. After they won that hard-fought matchup with a stellar performance, the media finally began to realize this wasn’t just a fluke, much less a joke. This rookie quarterback was unleashing an unprecedented energy, becoming a dark horse that no one could ignore.

Regardless of this dark horse’s true caliber or his staying power, as long as the wins kept coming, people were forced to take Lu Ke seriously. They had to look past his race, past his rookie status, and give Lu Ke the respect he was due—the respect for a 7-1 record in the regular season.

Last week, he had quietly broken an Alliance record that had stood for thirteen years, completely shattering a forty-year-old stereotype about rookie quarterbacks. Now, Lu Ke’s standing in the eyes of the media, the experts, the Alliance, and the fans was completely different.

People didn’t have to like Lu Ke—after all, he wasn’t money, he couldn’t be loved by all—but no one could deny that his performance was making him a phenomenon in the Alliance. And that’s what led to the frenzied mob today.

It wasn’t just the thrill of gawking at a spectacle, nor just the journalistic curiosity to capture a headline; their attitude, their treatment of him, their gazes, their tone—everything had changed from the ground up. But with a single rhetorical question, Lu Ke had instantly exposed the hypocrisy behind this change.

Jay Fox’s laugh, cutting through the awkward silence, was jarring. It served as a sharp reminder to everyone present of the deeper meaning behind Lu Ke’s question.

However, the reporters on the scene were all old pros, thick-skinned as they come. They all pretended not to understand Lu Ke’s subtext, simply turning to him with earnest, sincere expressions, posturing as if they were listening intently.

So Jay pursed his lips, suppressing his smile, and seized the opportunity to ask, “So, now that you’ve broken the record, how does it feel?”

“Fantastic.” Lu Ke’s concise and powerful reply, delivered with perfect timing in the back-and-forth, created a moment of levity. Paired with his sincere yet confident tone, a wave of humor spread through the group, and the reporters couldn’t help but chuckle—

Indeed, how else would one feel after breaking a record? It was fantastic, of course. What else could the answer be?

“After breaking Peyton Manning’s record, are you confident you can break Tom Brady’s regular season record of fifty touchdowns?”

Another reporter’s voice abruptly cut in. Looking toward the sound, it was none other than a reporter from “Sports Illustrated,” Harry Weens. He had a smile on his face, but he made no effort to hide the provocative glint in his eyes.

Lu Ke and Harry weren’t acquainted, let alone friends. All of their interactions had been confined to various press interviews. So, while Lu Ke didn’t know what kind of man Harry was, he knew exactly what kind of reporter he was.

Anything for a story; profit above all, entertainment to the death.

Harry didn’t target people; he targeted headlines. To create a buzz, he would even intentionally provoke his subjects. If they blew up and cursed him out, or even threw a punch, his goal was accomplished. He could then play the victim, report on the subject’s “atrocities,” and detonate the story into a full-blown scandal.

To Harry, people and events fell into only two categories: newsworthy and not newsworthy. Everything else was just a contributing factor to that classification.

Right now, Lu Ke was the hottest topic in the Alliance, and Harry naturally wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. He was trying every trick in the book to stir up controversy and create a bombshell. He didn’t even bother to hide the taunting in his eyes, which were filled with mockery and disdain. His intention couldn’t have been clearer: he wanted to provoke Lu Ke.

Wet-behind-the-ears rookies were always hot-headed and impulsive, quick to anger and prone to making mistakes. Lu Ke was a young man, fresh out of college; but Lu Ke was also a sharp, potential journalist in his own right—a former intern who knew this game inside and out.

“No, I’m not.” Lu Ke’s answer was simple and direct, delivered without a hint of hesitation or any further explanation.

This wasn’t just to shut Harry down; it was also the truth.

For Lu Ke right now, things like breaking records were far too distant. He had to keep his feet on the ground, focus on every single game, and take things one step at a time. Compared to season records, the playoffs were his real goal. That was why Lu Ke had never considered breaking Brady’s record. Even breaking Big Manning’s record had just been a pleasant surprise.

The stonewall reply left Harry speechless for a moment. He had run through all sorts of possible responses in his head, but he’d never expected Lu Ke to pick the most improbable one. ‘This guy is a tough nut to crack.’ Harry’s brow furrowed slightly, but he didn’t lose his composure. In a flash, he fired off his second question.

“In a previous interview, you mentioned that your idol is Peyton Manning. So, what are your thoughts about facing Eli Manning this week?”

It was a standard, predictable question. Lu Ke was slightly surprised that Harry had asked something so ordinary. The other reporters didn’t interrupt, because they all wanted to hear the answer too.

Without overthinking it, Lu Ke answered with sincerity, “I’m excited. I knew this day would come sooner or later after I joined the Alliance, but I still can’t help but feel thrilled to be able to step onto the field as a starting quarterback and be part of the game.”

“But your opponent isn’t Peyton; it’s Eli. What’s your opinion of Eli Manning as a quarterback? Where would you rate him compared to Peyton?”

As expected, the previous question was just a setup. The real trap was right here, quietly waiting for Lu Ke to walk right into it.

This was undoubtedly a tricky question, a tough one for any interviewee. Commentators, analysts, third parties, or fans of either team could all express their opinions confidently or subjectively, but Lu Ke couldn’t.

This was not only because Lu Ke had always stressed that Peyton Manning was his idol, but also because he was about to face Eli Manning the following week. The slightest slip of the tongue would become fodder for media hype. Lu Ke didn’t mind his words being used for sensationalism; what he minded was losing this battle of wits with the reporter and becoming their puppet.

‘He was the one in control.’

“A quarterback who’s better than me.” Lu Ke’s answer wasn’t brilliant, but it cleverly deflected the question. The more interesting part was yet to come. “We’re not talking about just one Super Bowl. We’re talking about a quarterback who has proven himself in the Alliance. I’m sure no one would ask Eli the same question.”

What was the subtext? That the question was too stupid to ask Eli? That Lu Ke was an easy target, and the reporters were just picking on him? Or did they think Lu Ke was so dumb that a little prodding would make him spout a bunch of nonsense?

Lu Ke had no intention of explaining what the real subtext was. He simply left it for the reporters to savor.

“At least, I hope so,” Lu Ke added, twisting the knife. The implication was clear: if a reporter asked Eli a similar question, it would prove just how low-brow and foolish their standards were. It would show they would stop at nothing for a sensational headline, that they had tossed their professional ethics right into the garbage.

Wait, or was it possible that these so-called implications were all just in the reporters’ heads?

The reporters all looked over at Lu Ke and saw the playful, ambiguous smirk on the young man’s face, a look that seemed to hold a trace of derision.

Harry clenched his jaw, swallowing hard against the sense of humiliation that tasted like blood in his mouth. He immediately pressed on, “So, what’s your goal for this game? To win?”

“Ha,” Lu Ke chuckled. “I don’t think there’s a single team in the Alliance that steps onto the field aiming to lose. If one does exist, then the disciplinary committee should probably take a good, long look at them.” That would imply they were involved in game-fixing.

The sarcastic jab was like a sharp slap across Harry’s face, and it stung.

“Of course, we want to win. And we’ll do everything in our power to achieve that goal,” Lu Ke added, giving a definitive answer. “As for whether we’ll succeed, that’s obviously not up to me alone.”

After he finished, Lu Ke spread his hands innocently and gave an earnest shrug. The reporters erupted in laughter. It was a mix of sarcasm and banter, humor and mischief. Most importantly, his taunt skill was clearly maxed out, and he had landed a vicious counterblow on Harry. Even Harry’s own colleagues couldn’t hold back their laughter.

Standing frozen in place, Harry clenched his fists, his arms trembling slightly. He stared daggers at Lu Ke. From this day forward, this rookie quarterback had truly caught his attention.