Dominate the Super Bowl-Chapter 924 - 923 Unfamiliar Territory

Chapter 924: 923 Unfamiliar Territory

“God, Li Wei, are all your jokes this aggressive?” Jost raised his eyes to the heavens, swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and found his throat dry.

Li Wei, “What, are you worried my opening monologue tonight will be the same?”

Jost choked, “You’re planning to go off script?”

Li Wei shrugged nonchalantly—

On “Saturday Night Live,” the guest host is responsible for the opening monologue, a solo performance equivalent to stand-up comedy.

This monologue is often the highlight of the show, relying entirely on the guest host’s ability to captivate the audience.

Regular viewers often misunderstand, thinking the monologue is entirely created by the guest host themselves. In reality, the monologue is crafted by the team of writers on the show, tailored to the guest’s style and characteristics to make it feel like their own words.

In live broadcasts, preparation is paramount—it’s impossible to solely rely on improvisation.

Of course, whether it’s stand-up comedy or a talk show, the brilliance of the script is critical, but the performer matters just as much.

The same jokes told by different people can be either painfully dull or explosively funny. It all comes down to the performer’s rhythm, tone, demeanor, and delivery style. Comedy is the genre that tests theatrical talent the most.

So, while the opening monologue on “Saturday Night Live” is written by the same talented team of writers, the final presentation varies dramatically.

Generally, guest hosts don’t perform off-script—even seasoned comedians rarely put themselves in such a risky position.

But what about Li Wei?

Jost originally wanted to say, “I don’t believe it,” but as he looked at Li Wei, his confidence faltered. He blinked repeatedly, and the words stuck in his throat.

Truth be told, even Jost couldn’t quite imagine it—

While many NFL players have hosted “Saturday Night Live” over the years, most of them were quarterbacks. The last time a non-quarterback hosted the show was back in 1995.

That year, legendary cornerback Deion Sanders appeared on “Saturday Night Live” and achieved impressive ratings.

Now, after 24 years, a running back was set to step onto the “Saturday Night Live” stage.

The biggest difference between running backs and quarterbacks lies in the physicality and visual intensity they bring.

Looking at Big Manning or Brady, everything feels under control—they perform according to a “playbook.” But looking at Li Wei now, a sense of uncertainty filled the air.

Hesitating for a moment, Jost exclaimed, “Whoa,” imagined the scene, and couldn’t help but mutter again, “Whoa. This is shaping up to be an epic disaster. I… can’t wait.”

Swift couldn’t believe her ears, “Colin!”

Jost shrugged, “See, this is exactly the kind of effect we’re looking forward to. Li Wei, our ratings are counting on you.” With that, Jost even clenched his fist to cheer Li Wei on—

Something felt a little off.

…

Standing backstage, Li Wei took a deep breath and felt his heart pounding furiously, almost bursting out of his chest—

A strange emotion: nervousness.

From NCAA to NFL, Li Wei had weathered countless challenges but rarely felt nervous. That was his area of expertise; he never needed to be anxious within his domain of skill. However, this stage was entirely foreign—performance, monologue, commanding the room—none of it was something Li Wei had ever tried in his life.

And to top it off, it was a live broadcast. No delay whatsoever—however he performed on stage, it would be transmitted exactly as is with no room for error.

Even the slightest slip-up could end up as a meme across social media.

Follow current novℯls on ƒгeewёbnovel.com.

“Twenty-five cents for your thoughts.” A voice sounded beside him.

Li Wei turned his head and saw Swift’s smiling face. He tugged at the corner of his mouth, “Nervous.”

Then he quipped, self-mockingly, “To be precise, my mind is completely blank. I think repeated rehearsals have erased all my prepared monologue from memory.”

Swift chuckled lightly, “If you’ve still got the energy to joke, you can’t be that nervous.”

Li Wei raised an eyebrow but didn’t say a word.

Swift now saw through it—Li Wei was genuinely nervous. “Just be yourself. What I mean is, for your first time hosting ‘Saturday Night Live,’ no one’s expecting you to deliver a groundbreaking performance that blows everyone away. Audiences just want to see a different side of you—some playful teasing and a little self-deprecation is all it takes.”

“Don’t look at Peyton Manning now, mastering talk shows and even mocking himself effortlessly in commercials, seeming much more comfortable than Tom Brady; when he first hosted ‘Saturday Night Live,’ his opening monologue was flat as a pancake—barely passable.”

“We all need to grow.”

Li Wei tilted his chin slightly, “What about you?”

Swift froze, “What?”

Li Wei kept asking, “What about you? You’ve hosted ‘Saturday Night Live’ before, haven’t you?”

After hesitating for a moment, Swift’s shoulders slumped in resignation, “Disaster—an absolute disaster.”

Li Wei laughed outright.

Swift, “I only hosted once… uh, in 2009? God, I absolutely lack acting talent or any sense of comedy. It was catastrophic. I wish I could erase all traces of that broadcast.”

Then, she spread her hands wide, “After that, ‘Saturday Night Live’ never invited me back as a guest host again.”

Li Wei looked at Swift earnestly, “Well, God blessed you with musical talent. You’re an amazing singer.”

Swift froze, completely unprepared for this response. She couldn’t control it—her mood instantly brightened, “Are you serious?”

Li Wei tilted his eyes skyward, “No, just small talk. I’ve never actually listened to your music, you know. Because thanks to a certain prankster, I spent all my time diving into Sara Bareilles’ work and didn’t have a chance to focus on another artist’s albums.”

“Hahaha.” Swift laughed out loud. “Looks like you’ve regained your confidence—humor comes naturally to you.”

“Besides, you have a perfect cautionary tale right in front of you. You should be confident.” Swift spread her hands, “The worst-case scenario is…”

Li Wei jumped in, “Coming back next time as the musical guest.”

Swift couldn’t hold back anymore; she laughed until she was bent double, and she had to cover her mouth to suppress the sound, avoiding interrupting other staff preparing for the live broadcast. She lowered her voice as much as possible, “Just be yourself, Li Wei.”

Right then, a staff member appeared, “Li Wei, one-minute countdown. Hey, Taylor, why are you here? Are you planning to watch the live broadcast from the audience or staying in the dressing room?”

Swift instantly raised her hands in a surrender pose, “The dressing room. Please, please, please—I don’t want to appear live on camera in the audience. I have psychological trauma.”

Her expression was hilarious enough to make people chuckle.

Swift dashed off in a hurry, leaving Li Wei alone at the backstage entrance.

The space gradually quieted, with only the magnified sound of his heartbeat pounding in his eardrums. Then, the countdown from the staff continued.

Thirty seconds.

Ten seconds.

Five seconds.

Closer, ever closer.

As the countdown reached three, two, one, Li Wei took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and looked ahead. The thundering noise and chaos dissipated; there wasn’t a trace of tension left.