Audible

The studio lights were hot and bright, beating down like midday practice in full pads. I already had a natural glow going, but sweat still prickled under my collar. Someone adjusted my mic for the third time while Cassie LeClair shuffled her note cards like she was about to interview the President. Not that I blamed her. Tyler Brooks — starting quarterback for the ULM Warhawks, All-Conference gunslinger, hometown hero transplanted from nowhere Montana — didn’t just walk into rooms. I owned them. "Live in five," the headset guy muttered, pacing like the segment depended on perfection. I gave him a thumbs-up and leaned back in the chair, arms draped over the rests. Read the defense: Cassie was nervous but excited. Easy coverage. The red light blinked. Showtime. "Welcome to Spotlight Monroe!" Cassie said, polished and professional. "I'm Cassie LeClair, and today we're sitting down with ULM's own Tyler Brooks. Tyler, thanks for joining us." I flashed the full-wattage grin. "Pleasure's all yours, Cassie." Her smile tightened for half a second. I caught it — same micro-read I'd use on a linebacker shifting his feet. "So, Tyler, this is your senior year. How are you feeling?" "Feeling?" I tilted my head, pretending to think. "Unstoppable. Best shape of my life, team's clicking on all cylinders, and with me under center... we're making history this season. Mark it down." "Big plans, then?" "Absolutely. This year's gonna be the one people talk about for decades. Talent, swagger, and..." I shrugged with a grin. "Me. What else do you need?" A groan came from behind the cameras. I heard it. People loved me or hated me, but they never looked away. Cassie recovered smoothly. "You've built quite the reputation as a leader. Tell us about where you're from." "I'm from Troy, Montana. Small town — mountains, forests, not much else. Played for the Troy Trojans. Star quarterback, obviously." I winked. "Friday nights, the whole town showed up." She nodded. "Dad's John — best mechanic in town. Mom's Carolyn, teaches third grade. Brothers: Travis in the Navy, Raymond heading to Texas. And Asher..." I paused, smiling for real. "Asher's my favorite. Nine years old, already thinks he's the next big thing. Hey, bud — when I get home, I'm whooping you at Mario Kart." Cassie softened. For a second it didn't feel like live TV. "Got a best friend?" "Yeah. Sabrina. Grew up together. She's like the little sister I never had — pre-med here at ULM, smarter than I'll ever be. Always in my corner." I leaned back. "Wouldn't be where she is without me pushing her." "Family and friends clearly matter to you." "Gotta keep the circle tight." She flipped a card. "The Warhawks haven't won a championship in over a decade. Is this the year?" "No question. Defense is solid, offense unstoppable. With me calling it... we're a lock." "One last question. What do you do for fun when you're not on the field?" "Keep it simple. Hang with the guys, shoot pool, hit the lake. And yeah, I make time for the ladies." I dropped my voice conspiratorially. "Can't neglect the fans." An intern walked by — blonde, glasses, flustered. I caught her eye and smiled. "Hey, Rachel. Beautiful name." She blushed and hurried off. Cassie’s jaw dropped slightly. "What?" I laughed. "Just being friendly." As the red light blinked off, I stood and stretched. Walking off set, I felt the usual mix of eye-rolls and stares. Then something odd caught my peripheral — an older woman in the back row, dark shawl, watching me with an intensity that didn't match the rest of the audience. She looked... out of place. Like she belonged in one of those old Louisiana back-alley stories instead of a campus TV studio. I blinked and she was just another face in the crowd. Weird. My phone buzzed. Asher. "Hey, little man. Shouldn't you be in school?" A high laugh burst through. "Math's lame today." "Math matters. Gotta calculate how many touchdowns I'm dropping this weekend against Georgia." "You're gonna throw a million!" "Damn right." I caught my reflection in the glass wall — lighting hitting just right. "Gotta run, buddy. Bus to catch. Tell Raymond I'm still the star." Asher laughed. "Good luck!" Another call: Big Moose. "Move your ass, Brooks. Coach ain't waiting." "On my way. Save some moon pies for me." I slid into the waiting Uber, scrolling my phone. #TylerBrooksForHeisman was trending again. Love me or hate me — you'd always remember me.