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Hollywood lost one of its most masterful wordsmiths yesterday, as legendary lyricist Alan Bergman took his final curtain call at 99. The man who painted our memories with words — crafting everything from sultry jazz standards to unforgettable movie themes — passed away peacefully at his Los Angeles home Thursday evening, leaving behind a legacy that spans seven remarkable decades.

Born in Brooklyn but destined for Hollywood’s golden gates, Bergman’s genius found its perfect match in his late wife Marilyn. Together, they didn’t just write songs; they bottled lightning. Their partnership sparkled with three Academy Awards, including that haunting masterpiece “The Windmills of Your Mind” from “The Thomas Crown Affair” — you know, the one that still sends shivers down your spine after all these years.

But it was their collaboration with Barbra Streisand that truly defined an era. “The Way We Were” wasn’t just a song; it became the unofficial anthem of bittersweet remembrance. Funny how some melodies just stick with you like that, isn’t it?

The Bergmans’ magic touched everything they encountered. From the sass-filled theme of “Maude” to the working-class poetry of “Alice,” their words captured the spirit of changing times. Four Emmys, two Golden Globes, and a pair of Grammys barely hint at their impact on American culture. Frank Sinatra, Ray Charles, Quincy Jones — the list of artists who brought their lyrics to life reads like a Who’s Who of entertainment royalty.

Even as the calendar pages kept turning, Bergman’s creative fire never dimmed. His latest project — a collaboration with jazz virtuoso Pat Metheny — was still in the works when he passed. Some artists retire; others, like Bergman, simply find new notes to play.

The planned 100th birthday tribute at Santa Monica’s Broad Stage this September will go on as scheduled. Rather fitting, really — what better way to honor a man who spent his life celebrating the poetry in everyday moments? The concert will now serve as a testament to his enduring influence on American music.

Bergman leaves behind his daughter Julie, a respected writer and film producer, and granddaughter Emily Sender. The family suggests memorial contributions to the ASCAP Foundation Alan and Marilyn Bergman Lyric Award or the Johnny Mercer Foundation — ensuring tomorrow’s songwriters might find their own way to capture the windmills of our minds.

Sometimes the simplest words say it best: Thank you, Mr. Bergman, for teaching us how to remember the way we were.

The music world lost a transformative voice this week with the passing of Connie Francis, the unstoppable force who kicked down doors for women in pop music decades before anyone coined the term “girl power.” Francis, who died Thursday at 87, leaves behind a legacy that somehow feels both firmly rooted in the golden age of American pop and startlingly relevant to today’s TikTok generation.

Born Concetta Franconero — a name that record executives predictably wanted to change — Francis didn’t exactly burst onto the scene. Her early years with MGM Records in the mid-1950s were marked by a string of singles that landed with all the impact of a feather on concrete. But sometimes the best success stories start with a healthy dose of failure.

Everything changed in 1958. Following what could’ve been dismissed as outdated advice from her father, Francis recorded “Who’s Sorry Now?” — a tune that had been gathering dust since the 1920s. When Dick Clark featured the song on American Bandstand, it didn’t just climb the charts; it exploded, selling over a million copies and transforming Francis from struggling artist to overnight sensation.

The hits kept coming. “Everybody’s Somebody’s Fool,” “My Heart Has a Mind of Its Own,” and the career-defining “Where the Boys Are” dominated airwaves in the late ’50s and early ’60s. Francis didn’t just sing for American audiences — she recorded in multiple languages, becoming an international phenomenon before global pop stardom was even a thing. Her achievement as the first female artist to top the Billboard 200 seems almost quaint now, but back then? It was revolutionary.

Yet success never came without a price. The 1970s brought Francis face-to-face with unimaginable trauma: a horrific sexual assault, a botched surgery that temporarily silenced her iconic voice, and the mob-related murder of her brother in 1981. These experiences led to extended stays in psychiatric facilities — but Francis wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot.

Perhaps the most remarkable chapter in Francis’s story was written just months before her final curtain call. In an twist that nobody could have predicted, her 1962 hit “Pretty Little Baby” found new life on TikTok, spawning over 1.3 million posts and racking up 32 million YouTube views. The song’s resurgence proved that great music transcends generations — and that Francis’s influence wasn’t confined to the history books.

“I recorded that song 63 years ago,” Francis marveled in May, clearly delighted by this unexpected renaissance. “To know that an entire new generation now knows who I am, and my music is thrilling to me.”

Her final weeks were challenging — health issues forced her to skip a planned Fourth of July radio appearance due to severe pain. While the exact cause of death hasn’t been revealed, what’s crystal clear is the magnitude of her impact: 40 million records sold, 35 top 40 hits, and countless doors opened for female artists who followed in her footsteps.

Connie Francis didn’t just sing about where the boys were — she showed generations of women artists where success could be found, even when the path seemed impossible. In an industry that too often treats its pioneers as disposable, Francis’s legacy stands as a testament to the power of persistence, reinvention, and raw talent. Not bad for a girl who started out playing accordion at beauty pageants.

The legendary Wu-Tang Clan’s “Final Chamber” tour draws to a close this month, marking what might be the last time hip-hop’s most influential collective shares a stage together. After three decades of redefining the genre’s boundaries, the group’s farewell feels both triumphant and bittersweet.

Their recent Madison Square Garden performance wasn’t just another show — it became a living, breathing celebration of hip-hop culture. The Garden, packed to the rafters with die-hard fans and curious onlookers alike, crackled with an energy that felt almost supernatural.

“Hip-hop has been inspiring the entire f-king world for over 50 years, y’all!” RZA’s voice boomed through the arena, part battle cry and part love letter to the culture he helped shape. The Wu’s de facto leader, looking barely aged since their ’93 debut, commanded the stage with the same fierce intensity that once defined their early Staten Island days.

The eight surviving members brought their A-game. Method Man, Raekwon, Ghostface Killah, GZA, U-God, Inspectah Deck, and Masta Killa — alongside Young Dirty Bastard representing his father’s legacy — delivered a masterclass in hip-hop showmanship. Starting with the raw energy of “Bring da Ruckus,” the setlist unfolded like a carefully curated museum exhibition of rap excellence.

Then came the surprises.

Like some kind of hip-hop family reunion, legends started emerging from every corner of the arena. The LOX showed up. Lil Kim graced the stage. Big Daddy Kane stepped out looking fresh as ever. And in perhaps the night’s most theatrical moment, Slick Rick — the Ruler himself — rose dramatically from a trap door in the floor, sending the crowd into absolute mayhem.

These weren’t just guest appearances; they were torch-passing moments between hip-hop generations. When YDB led the crowd through “Shimmy Shimmy Ya,” the spirit of Ol’ Dirty Bastard felt palpable in the room.

The choice of Philadelphia for the tour’s final stop carries its own weight. The City of Brotherly Love embraced Wu-Tang early, becoming their second-biggest market after New York during their rise to prominence. Run the Jewels will open this last show — a fitting choice that bridges old school and new school hip-hop sensibilities.

During a particularly poignant MSG segment, RZA paid tribute to fallen hip-hop icons: Nate Dogg, Nipsey Hussle, Guru, Phife Dawg, and Biz Markie. The moment served as a stark reminder of time’s passage and hip-hop’s evolving legacy.

What’s remarkable about this farewell run isn’t just the performances — it’s the visible unity among members whose relationships haven’t always been smooth sailing. The genuine camaraderie on display suggests they’re closing this chapter exactly how they want to: together, respected, and still undeniably relevant.

As Wu-Tang prepares for their final bow, their impact on hip-hop culture feels more significant than ever. They’ve proven that artistic integrity and commercial success aren’t mutually exclusive. In an era where hip-hop has become the dominant global force in popular music, Wu-Tang’s blueprint — combining raw authenticity with strategic vision — seems almost prophetic.

The Clan might be entering their final chamber, but their echo will resonate through hip-hop’s halls for generations to come.

Stadium cameras have captured countless memorable moments over the years—proposals gone wrong, dance moves best left unseen, and the occasional sleeping fan. But at Gillette Stadium in Foxborough last week, the jumbotron caught something that makes those moments look positively tame by comparison.

During a packed Coldplay concert, the stadium’s massive screens zeroed in on what appeared to be an innocent moment between two concertgoers. That split-second decision would spark a corporate firestorm and send social media into a frenzy that’s still burning through feeds days later.

The camera had caught Astronomer CEO Andy Byron and the company’s chief people officer, Kristin Cabot, sharing what could generously be called a cozy moment. Their reaction? Well, let’s just say their attempt to vanish into thin air would’ve impressed David Copperfield.

Chris Martin, Coldplay’s ever-charismatic frontman, couldn’t help but address the elephant in the stadium. “Oh, look at these two,” he mused, before dropping the kind of observation that makes PR teams reach for the antacids: “Either they’re having an affair or they’re just very shy.”

The scene unfolded like a slow-motion car crash—Cabot shielding her face while Byron performed what onlookers described as a “submarine dive for cover.” Not exactly the kind of corporate leadership demonstration you’d expect from the head of a billion-dollar tech unicorn.

Social media, predictably, had a field day. TikTok users transformed into digital detectives faster than you can say “Paradise,” while even New York City’s Sanitation Department got in on the action with a cheeky warning about cameras being everywhere. (Who knew garbage collectors had such impeccable timing?)

The professional implications here are about as subtle as a fog horn. Byron heads Astronomer, a data infrastructure startup that hit unicorn status in 2022. Cabot, who joined as chief people officer just last November, now finds herself at the center of what might be the most ironic HR crisis since… well, ever.

Did we mention they’re both reportedly married to other people? Byron’s wife, Megan Kerrigan Byron, presumably had other plans that evening. Sometimes Netflix and chill isn’t such a bad option after all.

As this corporate drama continues to unfold, both Byron and Cabot have opted for the time-honored strategy of complete radio silence. Though judging by the viral spread of their jumbotron debut, that ship has sailed, hit an iceberg, and is currently resting somewhere at the bottom of the Atlantic.

Martin, ever the professional, smoothly pivoted to highlighting two fans in banana suits—because apparently, that’s just the kind of night it was. But the damage was done, leaving behind a moment that perfectly encapsulates our modern age: where private indiscretions become public spectacles faster than you can say “Fix You.”

In the end, this incident serves as a reminder that in 2025, privacy is more concept than reality. Whether you’re a tech CEO or just someone trying to enjoy a concert, those stadium cameras don’t discriminate—they just illuminate.

The streaming wars have taken an unexpectedly nostalgic turn this summer, serving up a peculiar mix of piano men, superheroes, and space cowboys that somehow feels both refreshingly new and comfortably familiar.

HBO Max’s latest offering, “Billy Joel: And So It Goes,” arrives at an oddly perfect moment — when authenticity in the music industry seems increasingly rare. The two-part documentary peels back layers of the Piano Man’s carefully guarded private life, and boy, does it deliver. Rather than the usual greatest-hits retrospective, viewers get treated to a surprisingly raw portrait, complete with unvarnished commentary from Joel’s inner circle. Christie Brinkley and Katie Lee (both ex-wives) don’t pull punches, while heavyweights like Springsteen, Sting, and McCartney add gravitas to an already weighty narrative.

Speaking of unexpected comebacks — Zack Snyder’s “Man of Steel” has somehow muscled its way back into HBO Max’s global top 10. The timing couldn’t be more ironic, what with James Gunn’s DC reboot looming on the horizon. Yet here’s Henry Cavill’s Superman, still drawing eyes and splitting opinions nearly a decade later. That 75% audience score on Rotten Tomatoes? Maybe there’s something to Snyder’s chrome-and-thunder aesthetic after all.

Paramount+ seems dead set on proving that the final frontier still has some unexplored corners. “Star Trek: Strange New Worlds” got the green light for a fifth (and final) season — bittersweet news for Trekkies who’ve embraced this throwback to episodic storytelling. The show’s managed to thread that impossible needle between fan service and fresh narratives, though some diehards still grumble about the uniforms.

Over at Prime Video, “The Summer I Turned Pretty” wraps up its run with all the teen drama you’d expect from a Jenny Han adaptation. The series has carved out its niche in the crowded coming-of-age space, largely because it treats young love with the gravity its target audience craves. Not exactly groundbreaking stuff, but in an era of increasingly dark teen content, there’s something refreshing about its earnestness.

Netflix continues its true-crime obsession with a double feature that’d make any documentary programmer salivate. “Her Last Broadcast” dives into the haunting disappearance of Jodi Huisentruit, while their “Trainwreck” series revisits that bizarre “balloon boy” incident — remember that mess? Both prove that truth remains stranger than fiction, especially when filtered through Netflix’s distinctive documentary lens.

Disney+ and Hulu aren’t sitting on their hands either. Chris Hemsworth’s immortality quest continues (though maybe someone should tell him about the law of diminishing returns), and Noah Hawley’s taking a crack at the “Alien” franchise. Set in 2120, this new series imagines a corporate-controlled dystopia that feels a bit too close to home — especially after last year’s AI regulation debates. The addition of Wendy, a consciousness-enhanced robot, adds another layer to the already complex “Alien” mythology.

This scattered buffet of content — from aging rock stars to teen romance, from corporate dystopias to true crime — reflects the increasingly desperate attempts by streaming services to be all things to all viewers. It’s a high-wire act that occasionally pays off, even if the platforms’ algorithms sometimes seem more confused than their audiences.

Well, darlings, Hollywood’s about to get steamy again — and this time, it’s personal. United Artists (yes, that United Artists, now under Amazon MGM’s glittering umbrella) is diving back into the erotic thriller pool. And who’s leading this deliciously scandalous charge? None other than Joe Eszterhas, the mastermind who gave us that little 1992 conversation starter called “Basic Instinct.”

Word around the Chateau Marmont is that Eszterhas — never one to shy away from controversy — is pocketing a cool $4 million for what’s being whispered about as an “anti-woke” reboot. Because apparently, that’s what you pay for lightning in a bottle these days.

The original film? Oh, honey. It turned Sharon Stone into an overnight sensation, though she’ll be the first to tell you it wasn’t exactly a smooth ride to the top. “I was the 13th choice,” she confessed to THR recently. The script apparently lived on top of her refrigerator for eight months — which, let’s be honest, is probably the most LA story ever told.

Remember that interrogation scene? Of course you do. It launched a thousand think pieces and made crossing legs a cultural moment. The film raked in $353 million worldwide, the kind of number that makes studio executives weak in the knees even now.

This new version’s got some serious muscle behind it. Scott Stuber (currently shepherding Guillermo del Toro’s “Frankenstein” through development) is teaming up with Nick Nesbit and Craig Baumgarten. Adam Griffin’s taking the executive producer’s chair — though honestly, in 2025, who can keep track of all these titles?

They’re keeping the plot under wraps tighter than a Beverly Hills facelift, but that “anti-woke” whisper has certainly set tongues wagging at Soho House. Whatever they’re cooking up, it’ll need to make the original look like a Disney+ special to get anyone’s attention these days.

Look, we’ve been burned before. Remember 2006’s “Basic Instinct 2”? The less said about that particular misadventure, the better. It bombed harder than a Netflix stand-up special during awards season.

But something feels different this time around. Maybe it’s having Eszterhas back at his typewriter (yes, darlings, some dinosaurs still roam among us). Maybe it’s the desperate need for grown-up fare that doesn’t involve spandex or space lasers. Or maybe — just maybe — we’re ready for another cocktail of sex, power, and moral ambiguity that doesn’t come with a trigger warning.

The million-dollar question (or rather, the $4 million question) is who’ll step into those iconic stilettos. Stone’s return remains a tantalizing possibility, but whoever takes on the role will need more than just screen presence. They’ll need to capture lightning in a bottle while tap-dancing on a knife’s edge.

In Hollywood, we call that Tuesday. In 2025, we call it a comeback.

Television’s tectonic plates are shifting again, darlings, and this time we’re watching a fascinating dance between the old guard and the new blood. Pour yourself something bubbly – this story’s got more twists than a red carpet gown.

CBS just dropped the kind of bombshell that makes even jaded industry veterans spill their martinis: The Late Show franchise is taking its final bow. Stephen Colbert’s reign behind that iconic desk will conclude in May 2026, and honey, they’re not just changing hosts – they’re shuttering the whole operation.

The network’s announcement landed with all the gravitas of an Oscar acceptance speech. CBS’s power trio – George Cheeks, Amy Reisenbach, and David Stapf – practically penned a love sonnet to Colbert, declaring him “irreplaceable.” (When was the last time network execs showed that much emotion? The Friends finale?)

But while one door closes with the elegance of a classic Hollywood ending, another kicks open with the subtlety of a superhero crashing through a wall. Amazon Prime’s “Invincible” – that deliciously violent animated romp – just secured its fifth season before season four has even hit our screens. Talk about confidence, sweetie.

The renewal announcement? Pure showbiz swagger. Walton Goggins basically kicked down the door with a gleefully profane “Season fucking five!” announcement. Because nothing says “we’ve made it” quite like dropping an F-bomb with your good news.

Let’s dish about those numbers for a hot second. Season 3 didn’t just perform well – it became Amazon Prime’s most-watched animated season ever. And now they’re adding Matthew Rhys to a cast that already reads like the guest list at Vanity Fair’s Oscar party? Sandra Oh, J.K. Simmons, Steven Yeun (fresh off that Emmy nod, thank you very much) – it’s getting crowded in that recording booth.

Robert Kirkman’s been playing coy about who’s stepping into Grand Regent Thragg’s shoes, teasing us with that “He’s been cast and he’s amazing” line. Could Rhys be our mystery villain? The speculation’s been heating up faster than a summer blockbuster premiere.

Here’s the delicious irony: as traditional TV prepares to bid farewell to a format that defined after-hours entertainment since Carson’s day, streaming platforms are gleefully tearing up the rulebook. “Invincible” represents television’s wild new frontier – where success isn’t measured in Nielsen numbers but in binge-watching marathons and social media buzz.

The landscape of television entertainment keeps morphing faster than a Marvel character’s origin story. These two announcements? They’re just the latest plot twists in an industry that’s rewriting its own rules faster than a room full of desperate sitcom writers on deadline.

Welcome to 2025’s version of must-see TV, darlings. The future’s looking both uncertain and absolutely fabulous.

Music has always been humanity’s emotional compass, but the streaming trends of 2025 are painting an unexpectedly complex portrait of our collective psyche. Picture this: Americans are simultaneously reaching for spiritual hymns and glittery party anthems from the late 2000s — a musical contradiction that perfectly captures our current moment.

The numbers tell quite a story. Global streaming has hit a mind-boggling 2.5 trillion plays in early 2025 (yes, trillion with a T). But here’s where things get interesting: while streaming continues its upward march, the growth rate has started to level off, dropping from 15.1% to 10.3% — perhaps a sign that the streaming revolution is entering its mature phase.

What’s truly fascinating, though, is our choice of musical comfort food.

Remember those carefree pop bangers that got us through the 2008 financial crisis? Well, they’re back with a vengeance. These sonic time capsules from 2007-2012 — think early Miley Cyrus, peak Lady Gaga, and vintage Rihanna — have seen streams jump by 6.4%. It’s almost poetic how, in these economically wobbly times, we’re once again turning to Kesha’s “Tik Tok” and “Party in the U.S.A.” like musical mac-and-cheese.

Jaime Marconette, Luminate’s VP of music insights, puts it perfectly: listeners are gravitating toward millennium-era pop specifically, suggesting both a hunger for nostalgia and a dash of good old-fashioned escapism. Sound familiar? With inflation jitters and economic uncertainty in the air, we’re finding solace in these glitter-bombed anthems of yesteryear.

But that’s only half the story.

Christian music is having what you might call a come-to-Jesus moment (pun absolutely intended). Led by fresh voices like Forrest Frank, Brandon Lake, and Elevation Worship, the genre is experiencing an unprecedented surge. The twist? Its biggest champions are young, predominantly female listeners — 60% women, with millennials making up a solid 30% of the audience.

The broader streaming landscape hasn’t completely transformed — R&B/hip-hop still wears the crown, followed by the usual suspects: rock, pop, country, and Latin. Yet it’s the growth patterns that reveal the most intriguing shifts. Rock’s leading the expansion charge, while Latin, country, and Christian/gospel are hot on its heels.

These trends are playing out against a backdrop where streaming has become nearly ubiquitous, claiming 92% of all music consumption in the U.S. Physical albums and digital downloads? They’re going the way of the 8-track tape, becoming increasingly rare curiosities in our all-digital world.

What we’re witnessing isn’t just a shift in listening habits — it’s a musical manifestation of our collective emotional state circa 2025. We’re simultaneously seeking escape through the sugar-rush highs of recession-era pop while reaching for the grounding influence of spiritual music. Dancing through our troubles while searching for deeper meaning? Now that’s a playlist for our times.

Rock’s aging legends are writing vastly different final chapters these days. While some gracefully reinvent themselves, others crash spectacularly – a truth playing out in stark relief between Jane’s Addiction’s violent implosion and Robert Plant’s inspiring new direction.

The alt-rock world was stunned this winter when Jane’s Addiction’s 40th-anniversary celebration descended into chaos. During a September show, frontman Perry Farrell – struggling with vocal issues and mounting frustration – reportedly attacked guitarist Dave Navarro onstage. The incident brought the tour to a screeching halt and sparked a messy $10 million lawsuit.

Navarro, bassist Eric Avery, and drummer Stephen Perkins didn’t waste time seeking legal recourse. Their attorney Chris Frost put it bluntly: the suit stems from Farrell’s “unprovoked” assault on Navarro mid-performance. Beyond the immediate drama, the band’s collapse threatens their deal with Warner Music Group’s ADA – they’d been working on fresh material, and now face thorny questions about advance repayments.

Meanwhile, somewhere in a much calmer corner of the rock universe, Robert Plant is showing how aging gracefully in music actually works.

The former Led Zeppelin vocalist, now 76, just announced “Saving Grace” – both an album and tour that prove you don’t need to cling desperately to past glories. Plant’s weathered voice has evolved from its banshee-wail days into something deeper, richer – and he’s leaning into that change rather than fighting it.

“These are sweet people,” Plant says of his new collaborators, displaying the kind of artistic maturity that feels worlds away from Jane’s Addiction’s turmoil. “They’ve become unique stylists, and together we seem to have landed in a most interesting place.”

His upcoming record (the first since 2017’s “Carry Fire”) showcases covers ranging from Moby Grape to Blind Willie Johnson. The lead single “Everybody’s Song” demonstrates that Plant’s artistic vision remains sharp as ever – even if his vocal approach has shifted with time.

The venues for Plant’s upcoming 14-date North American tour tell their own story. Trading stadium bombast for the intimacy of theaters and opera houses reflects both his legendary status and current artistic incarnation. Brooklyn’s Paramount Theater and Port Chester’s Capitol Theatre will host performances that promise to be more about musical exploration than mere nostalgia.

Jane’s Addiction’s legal filing reads like a cautionary tale, lamenting that “history will remember the band as suffering a swift and painful death at the hands of Farrell’s unprovoked anger.” It’s a stark reminder that while rock was built on youthful rebellion, sustaining a career requires something more nuanced – the wisdom to channel that spirit into continued growth rather than self-destruction.

Perhaps there’s no perfect roadmap for aging in rock and roll. But as 2025 unfolds, these contrasting stories suggest that embracing change – rather than raging against it – might be the secret to keeping the music alive.

Florida’s quarterback situation just got a whole lot clearer — and maybe a bit more entertaining. DJ Lagway strolled into SEC Media Days in Atlanta with the kind of swagger that’d make even the most seasoned sports pundits take notice, effectively putting to rest those pesky rumors about his health that had been circulating since spring.

“I don’t have a prosthetic arm,” he deadpanned, drawing genuine laughs from the assembled media. Classic Lagway — turning what could’ve been an awkward moment into pure gold.

The real story? Sure, there were some bumps along the way. A shoulder thing here, hamstring issues there, and yeah, that hernia former Gator Chris Doering mentioned on Crain and Company. But heading into the 2025 season opener against Long Island, things are looking up. Way up.

“Training’s been amazing,” Lagway shared, his enthusiasm practically bouncing off the walls. “I’m actually getting better at throwing the ball” — and then came the part that really caught everyone’s attention — “been working on mechanics that’s gonna help my accuracy, help my decision making.”

Head coach Billy Napier, whose tenure with the Gators has seen its share of ups and downs (mostly downs, if we’re being honest), backed his QB’s assessment. According to Napier, Lagway’s been throwing three times weekly… heck, the kid even squeezed in a training session before his Media Days appearance. Talk about dedication.

Let’s rewind a bit. Last season wasn’t exactly a disaster — 1,915 yards, 12 touchdowns, nine picks across 12 games. Not earth-shattering numbers, but dig a little deeper and you’ll find something interesting: a 6-1 record as starter, including four wins after that Georgia game hamstring situation. Not too shabby for a young gun finding his footing.

But here’s what’s really turning heads in Gainesville: Lagway’s approach to the game. While social media highlight reels love those deep bombs (and who doesn’t?), he’s zeroed in on something else entirely. “I’m gonna make more of them,” he admitted about those flashy plays, “but that’s not my biggest thing right now. My biggest thing is making the boring throws more consistently.”

That October matchup at Texas A&M? Could be interesting. Lagway, a Texas native, “definitely was considering” the Aggies during recruitment. Now he’ll get his shot at showing them what they missed out on.

The vibe around Florida’s program feels different nowadays. Maybe it’s Lagway’s infectious confidence, or perhaps it’s Napier finally finding his groove in year four. Whatever it is, when Napier says “year two for him has got a chance to be really special,” you get the feeling he might be underselling it.

Just don’t expect Lagway to need that prosthetic arm anytime soon. Though, come to think of it, that might make for one heck of a NIL deal.