Play Us the Match of the Century

An old, broken down radio (circa mid-1950s) was all that could be seen on the screen when the camera faded in. Suddenly, a hand came out, and began turning the knob. It flipped through multiple channels, rendering only static, until it finally came across a channel that actually worked.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y2leZ75VKg0

As the song rattled through the poor quality speakers of the radio, the camera panned over to the source of the hand. In a seemingly post-apocalyptic setting of the deserted ruins of a city, Phillip Phillips sat next to the radio, staring off into space. Beside him was a red 1970 Dodge Challenger, with broken windows, headlights, multiple dents, and in desperate need of a wash. He wore a torn button-up shirt, though only buttoned up about halfway, and equally worn jeans. A black tie was slung around his neck, but not tied. As Song of the Century faded to a close, Phillip opened his mouth.

PHILLIP PHILLIPS
Okay, Austin. Fine. I'll play your little game. If you're not going to be mature about this sitatution, then why should I? You only get what you give, and Cross, you don't give much. So that's all I'll give you... well, maybe, if I'm feeling generous, I'll throw an injury in there. Just for you. But that's all you're getting from me.

He smirked, and stood up from his cross-legged seating position. He brushed off his dust-covered, grass-stained pants then kicked the radio aside, which produced a not-very-promising staticy, screeching sound.

PHILLIP PHILLIPS
Austin, the only low one here is you. Actually, I'm not sure that I can say that, since you're high as fuck during half of your matches anyways. But that's beside the point. Austin, you don't scare me. Honestly, right now you're coming off about as intimidating as an angsty 9-year-old playing Call of Duty online that's mad because he lost the match and still has a good 4 or so years to go before he hits puberty.

Phillip shrugged and shoved his hands in his pockets, then began to walk down a dark alleyway, lined with the shattered light bulbs of lampposts and abandoned buildings missing bricks.

PHILLIP PHILLIPS
By the way Austin, good job "tugging at my heart strings" with a song I've never even heard before. I guess you don't really know me as well as I thought.

He turned the corner and went down a main street, covered in potholes and worn paint. As he strolled down the open road surrounded by deserted buildings, the camera faded out to Boulevard of Broken Dreams.


(END OF PROMO)