One year in, McAfee likes to think of himself as a little wiser, and he gets to spend the majority of his time creating funny stuff. A typical day for him starts around 10 a.m. (his team has usually been at work for an hour by then) in his office, the back wall of which is one big dry-erase board filled with notes and half-baked notions. There, amid the faded remnants of erased marker strokes, ideas either completed or discarded, is the squiggly red sketch of a promotional app, a side-scrolling video game that McAfee couldn’t quite articulate, so he drew it out during a FaceTime session with the Barstool techies in New York. There’s a green list of crazy stunts—trampoline dunk, canine bite sleeve, and helo rappel, complete with a diagram of a helicopter and stick figure dangling from a rope—ideas for an ad campaign he’s creating for Wrangler jeans. “Goalie Indy Fuel” has a blue checkmark beside it. McAfee suited up in pads and Wranglers yesterday on the ice at Indiana Farmers Coliseum and took pucks to the groin and sticks to the facemask, all while assuring the camera that the jeans, at least, were still comfortable. Above, in more permanent black ink is the mantra: Laugh more, hate less/work hard, cash checks.

Beside the marker board is the doorway to McAfee’s private bathroom, which is always open, even when the boss is urinating, so that he can shout out ideas and orders relating to the newsfeed on the phone in his free hand. “His mind doesn’t stop,” says Kevoian. “It constantly moves from one idea to the next. ‘T-shirt business.’ ‘Let’s design tennis shoes.’ He is always thinking and creating, and sometimes it becomes this huge thing, a sellout sensation. If he fails, he doesn’t drop his shoulders and quit. Failures don’t stop him.”

Around 11:30, McAfee makes his way to the back studio, where he props up his feet on the desk, puts his hands behind his head, and conducts a 40-minute Skype interview with comedian and actor Nick Thune. There is no script, just McAfee chatting up a celebrity he met via The Bob & Tom Show. The conversation ranges from shaming a man-bunned customer for cutting in front of Thune at Starbucks to Usher upstaging Thune at his big movie premiere to Stevie Wonder complimenting Thune on his acting. (“I was like, ‘How do you know?’” says Thune.) “[McAfee’s] very open, very funny, and doesn’t take himself too seriously,” says Portnoy. “He’s just a guy you want to drink beer and hang out with.”

The interview will be an entire segment on the next day’s podcast, whose listenership has skyrocketed from zero to more than 667,000 in less than a year. But McAfee’s colleagues will say his real genius kicks in when parsing out bits of the Skype conversation to other platforms—using every part of the comedy buffalo. For example, once Thune has hung up, McAfee immediately rattles off ideas for tweets on the Starbucks exchange for his 1.25 million Twitter followers and cutting together a three-minute video on the Stevie Wonder story for the show’s 275,000 fans on Facebook. “He’s so savvy about social media and content,” says McComas. “He’s about focus and dedication. He never sways. It’s easy to get distracted as the following grows.”

The bigger McAfee gets and the more content he rattles off, the more likely he is to stick his cleats in his mouth and offend someone, to be put in the same corner as the other unruly Barstool brats. But so far, with the exception of the Cervix Killer incident, the Heartland office has avoided getting swept up in the negative national coverage. “We’re considered Pat’s people,” says McComas. “So there’s an insulating layer where, regardless of what someone might think of Barstool Sports, they love Pat and know Pat’s his own thing.” And if something does cause a stir, it might well be the next lesson for the burgeoning businessman. “He’ll have to get used to the backlash,” says Portnoy. “He’s a fighter. He enjoys getting into the mix. If you throw a punch at Pat, he’ll throw 10 back at you. But there are always going to be haters. If you spend all day in the mud with all of them, you’ll never get anything done.”

“I don’t have many thoughts that I’m scared of saying, so I don’t have much of a filter,” says McAfee. “I’m confident that what I’m saying/doing is coming from a place of happiness, because that’s how I feel. Aside from the knee surgeries, the main reason I stepped away from the Colts was for mental freedom. To get away from the filter that was forced upon me by a boss who didn’t enjoy me at all. The NFL shield represents a lot, and a comedian who isn’t scared to talk like an adult and tell stories to adults isn’t exactly right on line with their thought. I loved my time in the NFL, was lucky to be there, but I thought my time there had come and gone. I called my first stand-up show, which is also my first special, Uncaged, very much a reference to not giving a f—k about what the NFL would think about my style of comedy anymore. I just wanted to make people laugh.”

Now, comedy is McAfee’s sole focus. After the interview, he checks in with the boys in the editing booth. One is putting the finishing touches on a video of yesterday’s hockey shoot, winding back and forth over some footage of his boss writhing on the ice in pain. Another is baggy-eyed, wearing jogging pants after being here until 4 a.m. this morning battling technical issues to get today’s podcast up. On the wall above them is a white sheet of printer paper bearing the mandate ALWAYS BE CREATING, with the last word crossed out in pen ink and replaced with BRANDING. McAfee steps in to critique a video promo put together by one of the newer interns.

“You have to go straight through with no cuts,” says McAfee. “Let the caption explain who the f—k you are and why we should listen to you. Twenty-four seconds. Quick video.”

The intern nods.

“I like your dry humor,” McAfee says.

“Call me an overcooked chicken,” the intern says. Then he rushes to explain: “I’m so dry.”

McAfee shakes his head. “See, you went too far,” he says. “You should have stopped one sentence earlier.”