“And the Sun Devils tack on the extra point, making it 41-14 late in the fourth quart…”
**Click**
Art turns off his TV, scribbles some game notes in an old spiral notebook. It’s the same notebook he’s recorded thousands of other box scores in from his time as SUU’s gameday announcer.
Once hailed as the “voice of the Thunderbirds,” that life is behind him now. Instead of calling the game from Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, Arizona, Art Challis sits in his condo amid the sweltering heat, wearing only his garments, thinking about his glory days.
“You know, Vicky,” he shouted to his wife, who was already in bed, patiently waiting for her husband to join her. “You know, I was calling games before this new guy was even born.”
Art grabbed his phone and started examining his social media accounts.
He’s still an old schooler, infinitely more comfortable with snail mail than Tik Toks, tweets, or DMs. Nonetheless, he occasionally logs in to keep up with his favorite students and former colleagues who have all moved on.
He starts scrolling through Twitter, oblivious to the 119 notifications calling for his attention.
“Looks like Hayden is stirring up trouble with the football team again,” he says to himself. “What kind of nerve for a staff member to make a comment like that public?”
“Art, please come to bed,” Vicky howled from the bedroom.
After 53 years of marriage, Art had plenty of experience blocking his wife’s voice from his thoughts.
He closed that app for another he was more familiar with, Facebook. A highlight reel from tonight’s game was the first post on his feed.
“At least Morris had a good game. I haven’t seen a strong downhill runner like that since Big Bill Kershisnik…I wonder if he’s related to the new guy, Kyle Thompson.”
Vicky continued to plea with her husband to call it a day. “It’s getting late, dear…”
Art knew he needed to get some rest, but he had the heart of a 20-year-old man, literally, and it kept him youthful.
“Just a few more minutes,” he shouted back.
A pop-up informed Art that someone had recently viewed his LinkedIn profile. He took the bait, but was disappointed to see that he’d need to subscribe to the application’s “Premium Service” to see who had been looking him up.
Not the most intuitive of social media platforms, Art found himself growing increasingly frustrated trying to navigate LinkedIn. But just as he was about to close the app, he saw a familiar face.
“Congratulate Braden Bagley for working at Southern Utah University for two years,” it said.
He smiled.
“You know, Vicky,” he started. “You know, I hired this kid, Bagley. I remember his interview like it was yesterday. You know he got his master’s from us, and now he’s teaching here? I don’t know about you, but I’d call that a success story.”
“Art, it’s almost midnight! I’m not waiting up any longer.”
“The last time I saw him before his interview, he was defending his thesis,” Art continued rambling, dismissive to Vicky’s appeals. “Then all of a sudden, he was back on campus, just a few years later, presenting his research to us.”
“ARTHUR REGINALD CHALLIS, COME TO BED RIGHT NOW,” Vicky shrieked. “Actually, I don’t even care! Goodnight.”
Art wiped the sweat from his brow.
“I hired him,” he whispered to himself. “He’s here because of me.”
Art looked up at the microwave. It was 11:59 p.m. He looked back down at his phone, scrolled through his colleague’s profile, clicked one last button, and headed to bed.
It was midnight. He endorsed Braden Bagley, PhD, for research.
Hayden Coombs 