Dominate the Super Bowl-Chapter 926 - 925 control at will

Chapter 926: 925 control at will

Jost’s back muscles were completely stiff—who could have thought that Li Wei would modify the script with his opening remark and aim the gun squarely at the production team?

Beside him, Michaels kept a straight face, pulling the corner of his mouth slightly, “Interesting.”

Cold sweat broke out all over Jost’s body; his knees felt weak. He imagined witnessing an epic disaster might be incredibly entertaining, giving viewers a glimpse of Li Wei’s off-field persona. But standing next to Michaels and witnessing it firsthand was a completely different experience—he couldn’t focus at all.

And then.

“So, I guess I should have a nickname like OJ instead of just being called some ‘Runner.'”

Uproarious laughter!

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The whole audience burst out laughing, applause thundering—

“OJ,” shorthand for orange juice, is also the nickname of O.J. Simpson, the Hall of Fame NFL running back who famously became infamous for the “wife-killing case” that went down in history. That sensational nationwide trial was dubbed the “Trial of the Century,” encapsulating the turbulence of American society.

If you’re curious about the profound impact of the O.J. Simpson case, you can watch the Oscar-winning documentary “O.J.: Made in America.”

Evidently, in this moment, Li Wei purposely brought up Simpson in a playful tone—bold and sharp, launching a counterattack revolving around his own name.

No doubt about it, this was exactly what “Saturday Night Live” needed. The audience in the studio loved this kind of joke, cheering and whistling wildly.

Beside him, Jost was dumbstruck: So, this is Li Wei’s version of being nervous?

And if Li Wei weren’t nervous, what would happen?

Standing on the stage, Li Wei had now completely relaxed, effortlessly moving from one beat to the next.

“Honestly, I’m very nervous.”

Hahaha, the audience erupted into laughter and applause—no one believed him.

Li Wei looked wholly innocent.

“I’m serious! Hey, not everyone can sneak off to appear on a talk show while leaving their teammates stranded in some barren patch of the Midwest.”

“Shh, don’t tell Patrick.”

The laughter wouldn’t stop; it was hard to imagine that within just thirty seconds, Li Wei had completely brought the audience under his control.

“So, after confirming I’d appear on the show, I seriously studied the previous performances of Peyton Manning, Eli Manning, and Tom Brady.”

“No doubt about it, they’re legends, with huge fanbases, and their opening remarks are always heartwarming.”

“I’m sure this isn’t because the production team was worried quarterbacks couldn’t fill a three-minute monologue on their own and had to use crowd tactics to pad the time.”

Haha.

Jost couldn’t hold back and laughed aloud, conspicuously standing out even amid the thunderous laughter. He snuck a glance at Michaels, only to find the man still staring intently at Li Wei, expression unchanged, which made him feel slightly reassured.

His smile grew a little wider.

The first half was scripted; the punchline at the end? That was Li Wei improvising.

Jost had to admit—this guy was incredibly audacious, bringing his Super Bowl-sized nerves straight onto the “Saturday Night Live” stage.

Amid the uproarious laughter, Li Wei looked particularly composed, brimming with confidence as he continued.

“Peyton’s parents and brothers all showed up; Eli even brought his entire offensive line. And Tom? For God’s sake, he has a supermodel wife. Phew, I can’t compete with that.”

This time, amidst the laughter, cheers and whistles joined in, making the studio impossibly lively.

“Sorry, I have nothing.”

“Just me. Alone. By myself. Flying solo. If this were a Western movie, it’d be thrilling; but unfortunately, this is New York.”

Satire, self-deprecation, barbed humor.

The applause thundered once again.

“Back when I told my dad I was considering playing football, he was thrilled: ‘Oh yeah, my son is finally going to be the next David Beckham!'”

“Thanks, Dad. I appreciate your supreme confidence in your looks, but Beckham? Really?”

Li Wei’s skeptical expression made the audience dissolve into hysterics.

A woman in the front couldn’t hold back her excitement and yelled, “Li Wei, I love you!”

Li Wei flashed a perfectly deadpan smile, “Thanks. I’m sure you told David the same thing.”

Hahaha.

This time, Li Wei didn’t pause. “And Dad, this football isn’t that football. We live in the United States. My dad spent quite a bit of time coming to terms with the fact that his dream of me becoming a player who relied solely on good looks like Beckham was over.”

Hands spread, helpless.

Again, the audience laughed uncontrollably.

Li Wei continued, “But now, it seems that dream has been revived.”

As he spoke, Li Wei adjusted his suit—

Louis Vuitton.

Instantly, the crowd went wild. Cheers and shouts surged like waves; undoubtedly, this topic was the hottest of the off-season.

Perhaps even the hottest, period.

After all, while other topics might have barriers to entry, gossip about football players endorsing luxury fashion brands was open to everyone.

Then, Li Wei stopped talking, stood his ground.

At first, the audience didn’t understand what was happening.

Swift’s eyes widened, “Oh no, Li Wei forgot his lines.”

After waiting briefly, observing Li Wei strike another pose and remain frozen, people finally realized—Li Wei was mimicking a model’s stance.

So, was this self-mockery as a pretty-boy idol?

It was a little chilly; not quite laugh-out-loud funny.

The next moment, Li Wei moved—leaning back, kicking out his right leg. Though not perfectly identical, it was obvious he was imitating Beckham’s signature curveball free kick pose.

Haha.

Though it was cold humor, it was still undeniably funny—no one could have imagined Li Wei’s opening monologue tonight would roast Beckham. Clearly, Louis Vuitton’s endorsement deal has been far-reaching in its impact, to the point people were now comparing Li Wei and Beckham—

But in a negative light, using biting sarcasm and sharp commentary to predict Li Wei’s downward spiral into becoming a fashion celebrity like Beckham.

Confronting such rumors directly seemed too serious and stiff; ignoring them might come across as evasive and guilty. So “Saturday Night Live” handed its stage over to Li Wei, allowing him to respond with humor and mockery.

Judging by the audience’s reaction, Li Wei executed this mission brilliantly. It also subtly revealed that Li Wei and Beckham likely share a friendly relationship.

Murmurs, subtle chuckles swirled around.

Li Wei returned to his normal stance, shaking his head lightly, looking regretful, “British humor doesn’t work so well here. Cold sweat.”

A self-deprecating line perfectly eased the awkwardness—

If the joke didn’t land, what do you do?

Li Wei gave a flawless answer.

Jost’s eyes widened; even he couldn’t help himself and applauded, cheering for Li Wei. Amid roaring applause throughout the studio, Jost shouted loudly.

“This is New York, not London!”

Adding to the moment brilliantly, the comedic effect amplified as laughter reverberated across the set.

Li Wei spread his hands, still composed.

“It seems I still have a lot to learn about making a living off my looks. This leaves me with no choice; I’ll have to win another championship next year.”

And what kind of twist was that?

For a moment, everyone was stunned—before the studio erupted into cheers, whistling, and clapping, with shouts of “Giants are champions” peppered in, the atmosphere electric.