The interview took place at the Four Seasons Hotel Austin, down on Lady Bird Lake, because apparently this conversation required better thread counts than the rest of us. Austin was already warming through the hotel windows. The breakfast buffet had entered the defeated stage of the morning: rubber eggs, bacon under a heat lamp, coffee that had been on the burner long enough to qualify as a geological formation.
Holly Rowe came foot-stomping through the lobby like somebody had just told her Steve Sarkisian was trying to reach an elevator without answering one more question, still in the full road-game uniform: ESPN quarter-zip, black stretch pants, running shoes and reading glasses poised on top of her head.
I wanted to talk about the interview thing that started all of this national hubbub.
Quick recap: Texas had just climbed out of a 23–3 hole to beat No. 1 Ohio State, 24–23.
ESPN had managed to botch its halftime interview with Steve Sarkisian. Technical problems. Dead air. Sark standing there while television tried to become television again.
Eventually he left.
He had a football game to coach.
Then Texas came all the way back, Sark headed toward his players and The Eyes of Texas, and ESPN wanted another interview.
Sark stopped, then kept moving.
Somehow the story became that Sark was rude. Some said he was a dick. Male media chivalry arrived on X almost immediately. Holly apparently needed defending.
So I sat down across from Holly with my coffee and asked about it.
Her phone face up on the table. Coffee within reach. Professional reporter. American darling.
Holly defended her attempted interview.
Fair enough.
I tried to listen, but after a while her voice stopped carrying words and started working like a light switch in my head.
On. Off.
Light. Dark.
Somewhere in the dark, my inner monologue took over.
Is she really all that special?
Could a circus monkey do what she does as well?
Hmmm.
Maybe the remarkable thing wasn’t that Holly wanted answers.
Maybe it was that the questions themselves were almost indestructible.
They didn’t actually require football. Hell, anybody could ask them. You didn’t have to be the “consummate professional” after all.
Could that be possible? The media dicks on X assured us it wasn’t.
So I borrowed Holly’s script and applied it to real life.
What adjustments did you make?
What are you seeing?
How important is execution?
What do you tell your team?
What does a successful finish look like?
Take away the scoreboard.
Take away the coach.
Take away football entirely.
Those questions will still travel.
So I did.
1. IN THE SOUP
FlyHouse is in the private-aviation business and works with ESPN as the official private-aviation sponsor for College GameDay, Monday Night Countdown and NFL Live.
That got my attention.
One of the arguments after Sark walked away was that ESPN was paying for his salary or at least a portion, so ESPN was entitled to the interview.
Fine.
Let’s take that theory flying.
A FlyHouse crew is established on the localizer in weather that has erased the outside world.
Cleared for the ILS. Solid IMC. All white and gray.
The needles are alive. The runway isn’t.
Approaching decision altitude.
Holly is in the jumpseat.
Of course she is.
The glideslope moves. The pilot corrects.
The localizer twitches. Another correction.
Holly leans forward.
HOLLY: One quick question.
The pilot scans the instruments.
PILOT: Not now.
HOLLY: You still haven’t seen the runway. What adjustments have you made?
PILOT: Holly, we’re approaching minimums.
HOLLY: So execution is important here?
The altitude keeps unwinding.
Two hundred feet.
No lights. No runway. Nothing.
PILOT: Minimums. No visual. Going missed.
TOGA.
Power comes up. Nose pitches.
Positive rate.
Gear up.
The airplane claws back through the low ceiling while the crew works the missed approach. Heading capture. Flaps coming up on schedule.
Everything finally settles.
Holly gives them maybe six seconds.
HOLLY: Obviously not the finish you wanted. What do you tell your crew before the next flight?
The pilot turns around.
PILOT: Sit down and shut the fuck up.
HOLLY: Perfect.
Apparently ESPN access had limits after all.
2. THE HOSTAGE NEGOTIATOR
The next one required a little more sensitivity.
So I found a hostage negotiator three hours into a barricade, with two hostages inside and one very bad afternoon getting worse by the minute.
A negotiator sits behind an unmarked SUV with a phone to his ear.
Holly appears beside him. Quarter-zip. Clipboard in hand. Glasses on top of her head.
HOLLY: One quick question.
He raises a finger.
Not now.
HOLLY: Kevin has dictated the pace most of the afternoon. What do you need to do to change that?
The negotiator covers the phone.
NEGOTIATOR: I need Kevin to release two people without shooting anybody.
HOLLY: What are you hearing from Kevin right now?
NEGOTIATOR: He’s angry. Tired. Starting to talk more.
HOLLY: So do you feel like you’re beginning to wear him down?
NEGOTIATOR: That’s not really how we—
HOLLY: What adjustments have you made since the opening few minutes?
NEGOTIATOR: Mostly trying to keep everybody alive.
HOLLY: How important is trust at this point?
NEGOTIATOR: Extremely.
HOLLY: And execution?
Long pause.
NEGOTIATOR: Terrible word.
HOLLY: Fair.
He goes back to the phone.
NEGOTIATOR: Kevin, I’m still here.
Holly gives him perhaps five seconds.
HOLLY: What do you tell Kevin here late?
The negotiator points at a cop.
NEGOTIATOR: Get her away from me.
The officer starts walking Holly toward the tape.
She turns.
HOLLY: Last one. What would a successful finish look like?
The negotiator puts the phone back to his ear.
NEGOTIATOR: Everybody walks out.
Pause.
NEGOTIATOR: Sorry, Kevin. ESPN.
The officer gets Holly behind the tape.
She immediately leans around it.
HOLLY: One follow-up—
The negotiator drops the phone.
3. THE TROUGH URINAL
By the third scenario, the questions had become less inappropriate and more physically impossible.
Halftime. Packed stadium bathroom.
A guy finally gets a spot at the trough after waiting ten minutes.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Unzips.
Nothing.
Stage fright.
Then Holly squeezes in beside him, glasses poised on top of her head.
HOLLY: One quick question.
He stares straight ahead.
GUY: You’re not helping.
HOLLY: You waited a long time for this opportunity. What’s going through your mind right now?
GUY: Apparently everything.
HOLLY: You looked ready coming in. What changed?
GUY: You showed up.
HOLLY: So this is mental?
GUY: Holly.
HOLLY: What adjustment do you need to make here?
GUY: I need you to leave.
HOLLY: How important is execution?
He closes his eyes.
Nothing.
GUY: Extremely.
HOLLY: What does a successful finish look like?
He slowly turns his head.
GUY: At this point? Anything.
HOLLY: Last one.
GUY: I do not have time for this shit.
Holly looks offended.
HOLLY: Neither did I.
The guy finally gives up, zips back up and walks out.
Holly watches him go.
HOLLY: Tough first half. What adjustments do you make in the locker room?
The entire bathroom goes silent.
Even the hand dryer seems to stop breathing.
4. THE CLOGGED TOILET
Hotel bathroom.
Something has gone terribly wrong.
Not stopped-up wrong.
Old Testament Biblical wrong.
Brown water sits less than an inch from the rim. Things are floating in it that had no business seeing daylight again.
A maintenance man is on his knees beside the bowl with a power snake.
Rubber gloves. Work shirt. Flashlight.
The posture of a man who has already been told twice that the guest “only flushed normal stuff.”
The snake disappears into the toilet.
Three feet.
Six feet.
Nine feet.
Then it catches.
The maintenance man leans into it. The cable twists.
The bowl rises another quarter inch.
Holly appears in the doorway.
HOLLY: One quick question.
The maintenance man looks at the water.
Then Holly.
Then the water.
HOLLY: You’ve had trouble getting movement up front. What adjustment are you making now?
He feeds another foot of cable into the drain.
MAINTENANCE: Lady, please.
The snake bucks.
Something deep in the plumbing makes a noise like an alligator turning over in mud.
HOLLY: What are you seeing?
MAINTENANCE: Nothing I want to see.
The cable suddenly goes slack.
The toilet burps.
The water drops six inches.
Then something comes back up.
A washcloth.
Two baby wipes.
What appears to be half a chicken tender.
And a small plastic dinosaur.
The maintenance man stares incredulously into the bowl.
Holly leans closer.
HOLLY: So was that a personnel issue or execution?
He slowly turns toward her.
MAINTENANCE: Get out.
Behind him, the toilet flushes perfectly.
Holly nods.
HOLLY: Good finish.
5. THE SOBRIETY TEST
Two in the morning.
Shoulder of the highway.
Blue lights washing over everything.
A state trooper has a man standing on one leg beside his pickup, arms down, toe pointed.
The man is concentrating harder than anyone in America has ever concentrated on a foot.
Holly walks up.
The trooper sees her and immediately looks tired.
HOLLY: One quick question.
The driver wobbles.
His foot touches pavement.
The trooper makes a note.
DRIVER: Goddammit.
HOLLY: You looked pretty steady coming into tonight. What changed?
The driver stares at her.
DRIVER: I met Officer Fucking Friendly.
The trooper makes another note.
HOLLY: Your footwork seems to be breaking down late. Is that fatigue?
DRIVER: Please stop helping.
The trooper moves to the walk-and-turn.
Nine steps. Heel to toe. Turn. Nine back.
The driver gets to four and wanders toward the ditch.
Holly follows alongside.
HOLLY: What adjustment do you need to make here?
DRIVER: Apparently a lawyer.
The trooper cuffs him.
Holly stays with them all the way to the cruiser.
The back door opens. The driver ducks his head.
HOLLY: Obviously not the finish you wanted. What do you take from this going forward?
The trooper closes the door before he can answer.
Holly taps on the glass.
The driver looks straight ahead.
She taps again.
The cruiser pulls away.
Holly watches the taillights disappear.
HOLLY: Tough night.
6. THE PROPOSAL
Nice restaurant.
Candles. Wine.
The kind of place where the waiter removes crumbs between courses with a tiny silver tool.
A man pushes his chair back and gets down on one knee.
The woman covers her mouth.
Three nearby tables immediately stop pretending not to watch.
A phone comes out.
Then another.
The man opens the ring box.
He gives the speech.
College. First apartment. The dog.
How she made him better.
How he can’t imagine his life without her.
Then he asks.
The whole restaurant waits.
She looks at him long enough that the violinist starts examining the floor.
Finally:
WOMAN: No.
She picks up her purse and leaves.
The man remains on one knee, ring still extended.
Nobody knows where to look.
Except Holly.
Holly knows exactly where to look.
She is already moving.
HOLLY: One quick question.
The man closes his eyes.
HOLLY: You seemed confident coming in. What changed?
He looks toward the door his girlfriend just went through.
MAN: She said no.
HOLLY: Did you see anything during the week that made you think this might happen?
MAN: Holly.
The waiter quietly removes the champagne bucket.
HOLLY: When things started going against you there, was there an adjustment you could have made?
The man puts the ring back in the box.
MAN: Apparently dating someone else.
HOLLY: What do you tell yourself after something like this?
He stands, straightens his jacket and looks at the empty chair.
Then Holly.
MAN: I should have done this at home.
HOLLY: And what does bouncing back look like?
The man walks away.
Holly watches him go.
Then turns toward the woman filming the entire thing at Table 12.
HOLLY: He’ll learn from it.
7. THE FLUFFER
After that, there was nowhere left to go but television.
Specifically, a porn set between takes, where the entire production had been built around one thing happening on schedule.
Lights hot. Crew resetting.
One performer stands off to the side in a robe.
The fluffer is working.
Then Holly walks over.
ESPN quarter-zip. Black stretch pants. Reading glasses poised on top of her head. Microphone ready.
HOLLY: One quick question.
The fluffer stops.
Completely.
The performer looks down. Then at Holly. Then back at the fluffer.
Nobody says anything.
HOLLY: You guys looked like you had some momentum going. What changed?
FLUFFER: You walked over here.
HOLLY: So maintaining focus is important?
PERFORMER: Extremely.
The director looks over from across the room.
DIRECTOR: Holly. Not now.
HOLLY: I just need thirty seconds.
DIRECTOR: So does he.
The fluffer still has not resumed working.
HOLLY: What adjustments do you need to make before the next take?
PERFORMER: I need her to start again.
HOLLY: So preparation is important.
FLUFFER: Lady, I’m trying to work.
HOLLY: So am I.
The director points toward the door.
DIRECTOR: Out.
Holly starts walking. Then turns back.
HOLLY: Last one. How important is execution?
Long pause.
The performer looks at the fluffer. The fluffer looks at the performer.
PERFORMER: Increasingly.
Holly nods and leaves.
The director waits until the door closes.
DIRECTOR: All right. Reset.
The fluffer looks toward the hallway.
FLUFFER: Is she coming back?
8. THE ORGAN COURIER
This one came with a clock.
A donor heart had to get from one hospital to another.
Not eventually.
Now.
A courier comes through the service entrance carrying the insulated transport container.
Police vehicle waiting outside. Engine running.
At the receiving hospital, the operating room is already preparing the recipient.
Minutes matter.
Holly falls in beside him.
HOLLY: One quick question.
The courier keeps walking.
HOLLY: You’re operating in a pretty tight window here. How important is execution?
He pushes through the doors.
COURIER: Extremely.
HOLLY: What adjustments do you make for traffic?
COURIER: Police escort.
HOLLY: Weather?
COURIER: Helicopter if we need it.
HOLLY: What are you telling your team right now?
They reach the vehicle.
COURIER: Drive.
The door slams.
Lights come on.
They’re gone.
Holly stands at the curb.
For once, it appears she has been beaten.
Forty minutes later the courier comes through the receiving hospital doors with the container still in his hands.
Holly is waiting beside the elevators.
Different microphone.
Same glasses.
HOLLY: Obviously a lot of pressure on that final drive. How do you think you handled it?
The courier stops.
Looks at her.
Looks at the cooler containing a human heart.
Looks back at her.
COURIER: How the fuck did you get here first?
Holly smiles.
HOLLY: We flew.
9. THE ROOT CANAL
Eight experiments in, Holly had done all the asking.
That seemed unfair.
There was one obvious thing left to test:
What happens when somebody starts Holly Rowe-ing Holly Rowe?
So we flipped the microphone.
Holly is reclined in an endodontist’s chair. Bib clipped around her neck. Reading glasses still on top of her head.
X-rays glow on the monitor.
The doctor taps one tooth.
Holly nearly comes out of the chair.
ENDODONTIST: That one?
HOLLY: Jesus Christ. Yes.
He studies the X-ray.
ENDODONTIST: Root canal.
HOLLY: How long?
ENDODONTIST: About an hour.
Holly checks her phone.
HOLLY: I don’t have time for this shit.
The doctor lowers his mask.
ENDODONTIST: Obviously not the diagnosis you wanted. What’s going through your mind right now?
Holly looks at him.
HOLLY: What?
ENDODONTIST: You’ve been dealing with some pain. What adjustments do you need to make?
HOLLY: I need a root canal.
ENDODONTIST: So execution is important?
Holly stares at him.
HOLLY: Are you fucking with me?
ENDODONTIST: You came in expecting a routine visit and now you’re facing some adversity. How important is it to stay composed?
HOLLY: Just fix the tooth.
He reclines the chair another few inches.
ENDODONTIST: What do you tell yourself here before we get started?
HOLLY: I hate you.
ENDODONTIST: And what would a successful finish look like?
Holly closes her eyes.
HOLLY: You shutting the fuck up.
The doctor pulls his mask back up.
ENDODONTIST: Perfect.
He reaches for the syringe.
Holly opens one eye.
HOLLY: Wait. Are you going to ask me about the second quarter?
ENDODONTIST: No.
HOLLY: Good.
ENDODONTIST: I’m going to ask about the second canal.
Holly sits up so fast the bib tears off.
10. THE WAFFLE MACHINE
One hotel waffle machine.
One eight-year-old.
Holly, now hungry enough to consider violence.
The kid pours too much batter. It runs over the side.
Timer: 2:00.
HOLLY: Is that the only one?
DAD: Yep.
1:31.
The kid reaches for the handle.
DAD: Not yet, buddy.
Holly exhales.
HOLLY: Jesus Christ.
The father looks over.
DAD: He’s eight.
HOLLY: I’m hungry.
At 0:47, Holly leans toward the kid.
HOLLY: You had some trouble with the batter early. What do you need to do from here?
The kid looks at his father.
KID: Wait.
HOLLY: What did Dad tell you after the spill?
KID: Don’t open it.
HOLLY: So patience is important?
KID: I guess.
The machine beeps.
The kid opens it.
The waffle is burned to hell.
Holly closes her eyes.
HOLLY: I don’t have time for this shit.
The father works the waffle loose with a plastic fork.
Holly steps closer.
HOLLY: I only need one quick waffle.
The kid gets the blackened thing onto his plate.
HOLLY: Obviously not the result you wanted. What went wrong?
KID: It burned.
HOLLY: What was going through your mind when you opened it?
KID: Syrup.
HOLLY: What do you take from this going forward?
The kid shrugs.
KID: More syrup.
The father puts a hand on his shoulder and walks him away.
Holly looks at the empty waffle maker.
Then at the batter.
HOLLY: Finally.
She pours the batter herself.
The machine closes.
The timer starts.
Holly turns to the kid’s father.
HOLLY: One quick question.
DAD: No.
HOLLY: You’ve had some trouble managing the breakfast operation. What adjustments—
DAD: No.
HOLLY: How important is execution?
DAD: I’m begging you.
The machine beeps.
Holly opens it.
Perfect waffle.
She lifts it onto a plate, takes one bite and nods.
HOLLY: That’s the standard.
The kid looks up at her.
KID: Can I have some?
Holly shields the plate with both hands.
HOLLY: What did you learn from watching me?
The father picks up the kid and carries him away.
Holly takes another bite.
BACK AT BREAKFAST
Then the lights came back on.
Still in Austin.
Hotel breakfast.
Burnt bacon.
Cold coffee.
Holly was still talking.
I had apparently missed nothing.
Her voice had kept running while my brain wandered through airplanes, hostage negotiations, urinals, clogged toilets, roadside arrests, failed marriage proposals, porn sets, human organs, root canals and one eight-year-old who couldn’t make a waffle.
And she was still explaining how important the interview was.
To the game.
To the broadcast.
To the fans.
I looked down at my coffee.
That was the part ESPN had backward.
College football existed long before somebody decided a coach needed a microphone shoved in his face while he was trying to get to the locker room.
The stadium would still fill.
The band would still play.
Players would still play.
Coaches would still coach.
Millions of people would still watch.
Holly Rowe has a job because college football matters.
College football does not matter because Holly Rowe has a job.
Somewhere along the way, television forgot which end of the dog was supposed to wag.
Leave a Reply