Brooke Fletcher Makes White Sox History, Taylor Swift’s Fake Castle & Only OnFans Models Have PR Firms Now

We have succeeded, folks. Until mid-2026.

Incredible, right? It feels like just yesterday I was ringing in the New Year — watching a drunken Anderson Cooper on my TV and sipping champagne with my dog.

The dog didn’t drink champagne, but you know what I mean.

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And now we are on the last day of June. It’s hot as hell outside, the air smells like wildfire and bug spray, and some of you are enjoying the last few days with all ten of your fingers.

That’s right, it’s Fourth of July week, baby. America 250. Physically, I write Nightcaps at my dining room table. Mentally, I’m four Miller Lites deep and soaking up the shine with my rear end firmly planted in the inner tube.

glizzy is a hot dog. Don’t be a traitor. Although “sucking” is a horrible way to refer to eating a hot dog. Don’t blame me. He blamed John Mellencamp.

It’s been a week for me.

If you remember, this time last week I was on my way to New York City to visit Fox HQ. I have no bad news for you from the Big Apple because I spent most of my time doing super duper important work. But it was really nice to meet a lot of the faces I see on Zoom boxes in real human form. The people are not good there in the New York office.

And I had a few hours of free time. So, naturally, I went to the Top of the Rock.

Touring, of course. But I am an observer.

As soon as I got home from New York, I dumped my suitcase and repacked it for Athens, Tennessee.

What the hell is in Athens, Tennessee?

I’m so glad you asked. See, I’m a member of a book club here in my humble neighborhood of Nashville. We read a lot of novels, and we meet in a pub every two weeks to talk about them. This past weekend, 15 of us escaped to a luxury home with a saltwater pool and water slide. Athens, Tennessee!

Let me tell you something. I feel refreshed – despite all the charcuterie and alcohol I’ve inhaled in those three days. Sometimes – after a stressful week of business travel – you just need a little girl power.

So go out and grab a margarita slushie. Let’s do Nightcaps.

Brooke Fletcher is making history

Speaking of girl power, did you see what Brooke Fletcher did last week?

Brooke is a White Sox reporter for CHSN. When regular color commentator Steve Stone fell ill, he had to take over. She also became the first female TV commentator in White Sox history.

If you are not familiar with Brooke’s work, she is incredibly talented and deserves this opportunity. Don’t you dare drop any DEI allegations because I’ll be issuing receipts faster than Dianna Russini can pull up her text messages to get out of that speeding ticket.

But Brooke is also the daughter of former White Sox shortstop Scott Fletcher. And over the weekend, her dad surprised her with a souvenir of the night in the booth.

Brooke cries. Scott cried. I’m crying. He cries. What a moment!

And now about something not so exciting.

This Taylor Swift-Travis Kelce marriage is getting worse by the minute

I know, you’re tired of hearing (reading?) me griping about it. And since the wedding (allegedly) is on Friday, it’s almost over.

KYLIE JENNER PROMOTES KNICKS LINGERIE, SWIFT-KELCE MSG WEDDINGS AND GERMANY FOUND WAFFLE HOUSE

But I simply refuse to believe that Taylor Swift actually chooses to hold her wedding at Madison Square Garden.

Yuck. Ew. Blech.

Taylor Swift and Travis Kelce are rumored to be tying the knot on July 3. (Christopher Polk/Billboard via Getty Images)

The tackiness, the sticky folding chairs, the ugly basketball court. There’s no way this billionaire pop star — with endless options and an unlimited budget — is actually getting married at MSG, right?

You must be kidding me. I refuse to believe they are actually getting married at MSG. This must be a red herring to send the paparazzi somewhere else to have their real wedding somewhere spectacular and secret and beautiful.

Then. As if things couldn’t get any worse. I can see this.

They built a PALACE.

Taylor, my sister in Christ. You have money to go to Europe and rent a real castle. Please tell me this is some kind of elaborate setup for a fan club party.

Look, I know it’s not my wedding. My wedding was perfect (minus the weather and chemical burns). So I shouldn’t be too invested in what Taylor Swift and dopey Travis Kelce do with their wedding venue. But something about this circus just irritates me spiritually.

Let’s open the mail bag.

📩 Email: amber.harding@outkick.com (Submit your thoughts, stories, tips, pictures and photos of your dog.)

🐦 Twitter/X: @TheAmberHarding

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Only Fan Models is hiring PR firms now

Folks, I don’t— you.

One of the most annoying things about being a journalist is that your inbox is always full of PR ideas. Some of them are important. Many of them are not. Most of the emails I get are people wanting me to put out some sort of random household item that you can order from Amazon.

But this… this was a first.

In the year of our Lord 2026, OnlyFans models hire PR firms. (Screenshot)

Yes, friends, that is an official PR proposal from a company that only represents OnlyFans models and other “old” creators. Complete with quotes and a Google Drive folder full of authoritative images. Unbelievable stuff.

Yes, I have corrected the model name. No free promotion from me, lady! But – out of curiosity – I went to her Instagram profile and saw that the guy I dated briefly in 2019 was following her. Maybe just because of his expert knowledge of football fans. Definitely not because of her big fake holes.

What a world we live in.

Do we hate America and Caitlin Clark?

I love it when you email me or comment on my social media. I really do. Even if you are there (respectfully) I’m having a hard time with what I wrote, it’s nice to hear from you.

But every once in a while, someone goes above and beyond to tell me who they think I am. Like this sweet 72-year-old Jeri, for example, who came to my Instagram DM requests yesterday – upset about an article I wrote about Caitlin Clark.

Jeri wrote: “Typical Fake News story dissing Caitlin Clark. God, you people are amazing. Lost souls who hate America. All you need is blonde hair to complete the ignorant bunch.”

That’s certainly… a take.

Indiana Fever guard Caitlin Clark plays against the Atlanta Dream at Gainbridge Fieldhouse in Indianapolis, Ind., on June 18, 2026. (Photos by Trevor Ruszkowski/Imagn)

I can’t understand how anyone can look at Fox News or OutKick and think to themselves, “Wow, these people really hate America and Caitlin Clark.” CAITLIN CLARK. We post stories singing Caitlin’s praises every single day of the week and twice on Sunday. Jeri, what do you mean?!

And so I asked him exactly that. Turns out it was an article I wrote yesterday about click-me artist Emmanuel Acho saying the WNBA would be “better off” without Caitlin. That made Jeri’s knickers change. I, obviously, reported what Acho said and explained why what he said was complete nonsense.

It was a pro-Caitlin Clark article. Hence my confusion.

Jeri elaborated: “I think your article was a very mixed message. On purpose? Who knows. Most of it was used to give credit to intellectuals, with a few sentences at the end supporting it. Fake news distorts everything it touches. I’m a middle-of-the-road person. I honestly hate the insults that come from fake news.”

Why Jeri spends so much time filming a website she hates, I don’t know. I’m surprised you even see this column. But he thinks that this would put him in a reading comprehension problem on his part.

Also, there is nothing wrong with blondes.

Luke Bryan finally leans into his stupid song about climbing trees

Caitlin R. writes: Okay, one last thing on this, but did you see what Luke wrote??? 😂

Amber:

Last month, Luke Bryan released one of the most embarrassing songs in country music history. Golf. A fish. Hunt. Drink up. Do the hokey pokey. Change yourself.

I don’t know, it’s a blur to me.

But I pointed out to Nightcaps how god awful this song was. Of course I wasn’t the only one to point it out. His comments were full of people who—were totally into this song. And, at first, Luke defended himself. I argued that this was the wrong way to go about things. His only option was to be completely attached.

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Make jokes about the nonsense of this song. Sell ​​camo T-Shirts with “CLIMB TREE” in big, bold letters. Manage it.

I’m glad to see he’s finally taking my advice. I’m smarter than Jeri gives me credit for.

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OutKick Nightcaps is a daily column scheduled to run Monday through Friday at 4 p.m