Page 138 of Glitched Play

Below it, sit ten competition pods.

Five on one side.

Five directly across from them.

Each pod is enclosed in curved frosted glass trimmed with programmable LED lighting that shifts to each team's colors during introductions. Every station holds identical custom-built SGI gaming rigs, mechanical keyboards, wireless headsets, and ergonomic chairs embossed with the team logos.

Today's opening matchup.

Austin Dillos vs. Seattle Evergreens.

Each franchise fields five players on a team of ten.

One player competes at a time while teammates watch from their stations, feeding energy into every possession. Every touchdown, turnover, passing percentage, defensive stop, and victory adds points to the team's cumulative score.

Five matches.

One champion.

The concept started as a way to make football interactive all year.

Now, it looks like a professional sport.

Which, I suppose it is. You have to stretch your thumbs and fingers and be lightning quick.

A production assistant jogs toward me.

"Maci! We need approval on the player walkout graphics. Seattle had a change."

"I'm coming."

The next four hours disappear.

One monitor freezes during rehearsal.

A sponsor wants their logo moved two inches.

One announcer suddenly loses audio in his headset.

A camera operator asks if we should widen the opening shot. I go look into the shot and agree, “Widen it.”

Someone spills coffee near a production console.

Nothing catastrophic.

Everything urgent.

I solve one problem before another finds me.

By noon, I've walked nearly five miles inside the pavilion.

Sutton falls into step beside me somewhere between checking player hospitality and reviewing the halftime entertainment schedule. And the actual Armadillo star players signing autographs which includes Witt’s brothers, and Matt, his brother-in-law.

"You've stopped looking terrified."

"I don't have time."

She laughs. "That's usually how confidence works."