The confetti hadn’t even settled from the previous season’s finale, and already The Voice was delivering moments that tugged at heartstrings and sparked viral frenzy. On the electrifying premiere of Season 28, which aired September 22, 2025, on NBC, the show’s signature Blind Auditions kicked off with a bang—or rather, a heartfelt sob that left coaches and viewers alike reaching for the Kleenex. Country music royalty Reba McEntire, the 70-year-old Oklahoma legend with a voice like velvet and a resume stacked with Grammys and Broadway runs, found herself uncharacteristically overcome with emotion onstage. As a soul-stirring rendition of Craig Morgan’s “Almost Home” filled the Universal Studios Hollywood soundstage, tears streamed down her cheeks, prompting her fellow coach and unlikely bestie Snoop Dogg to swiftly pass over a tissue with his trademark cool. “Here you go, Reba—don’t let ’em see you sweat,” the rap icon quipped, his shades perched low as he spun his chair in awe. But it was contestant Manny Costello, the devoted Georgia dad of two young daughters, who stole the spotlight, choosing Team Reba for reasons that went far beyond the music—proving once again why this show is as much about stories as it is about songs.

For McEntire, a veteran coach who’s guided winners like Season 24’s Asher HaVon and Season 25’s Jake Miles to glory, the evening was a homecoming laced with vulnerability. Absent from the big red chairs since her triumphant 2024 run, Reba returned with her signature red lipstick and rhinestone flair, ready to battle alongside a powerhouse panel: returning champ Michael Bublé, pop-rocker Niall Horan, and the ever-chill Snoop Dogg, marking his second season after a debut that infused the show with West Coast swagger. The coaches’ banter set a lively tone from the jump—Snoop blocking Reba on early turns, her retaliating with playful shade, and Bublé mediating with his crooner charm. But nothing prepared them for Costello’s audition, a performance that didn’t just turn heads (or chairs) but cracked open a floodgate of feels.

Manny Costello, 28, stepped onto the stage with the quiet confidence of a man who’s sung more lullabies than limelights. Hailing from Athens, Georgia—a college town buzzing with University of Georgia Bulldogs energy and Southern hospitality—Manny’s backstory is the stuff of Voice gold: a full-time dad who’s traded bar gigs for bedtime routines, crooning country classics to his daughters, 5-year-old Maggie and 3-year-old Leighton, in the glow of a nightlight. “Music’s always been my therapy,” Manny shared in his pre-audition package, his easy smile belying the steel in his resolve. “But lately, it’s been for them. They curl up on the couch, eyes wide, singing along to every word. I want to show my girls that dreams don’t have expiration dates—you chase ’em, no matter if you’re changing diapers or dodging deadlines.” His day job as a logistics coordinator at a local warehouse keeps the lights on, but it’s those stolen moments belting tunes in the kitchen that fuel his fire. Open call auditions in Atlanta last spring were a family affair; Maggie clutched a handmade sign reading “Daddy’s Got This,” while Leighton dozed in a carrier, oblivious to the magic about to unfold.

His Performance:

The song choice was no accident. “Almost Home,” from Craig Morgan’s 2009 album That’s Why, is a gut-punch ballad about a homeless man’s final, grace-filled moments on a church doorstep—a narrative of redemption and quiet heroism that mirrors Manny’s own ethos of perseverance. “It hit me hard during a rough patch last year,” he confessed to producers. “Lost a buddy to the streets, and this song… it reminds me life’s about lifting each other up.” As host Carson Daly cued the band, the stage lights dimmed to a warm amber, spotlights dancing like fireflies over the empty chairs. Manny adjusted his simple plaid button-down—ironed that morning by his wife, Sarah, a schoolteacher who doubled as his biggest cheerleader—and launched into the opening verse: “He had wiped off his boots, worn as the sun on his back / With his list of regrets, he was turning his wheels.” His voice, a rich baritone with a gravel edge honed from years of backyard bonfires, started soft and intimate, building like a summer storm.

Twenty seconds in, Snoop’s chair whipped around first—the Doggfather leaning back with a nod of approval, his gold chain glinting under the lights. “That’s that real talk, dog,” he murmured, shades reflecting the stage haze. Reba’s swivel followed seconds later, her hands clasped at her chest as if in prayer, eyes already glistening. The other coaches—Bublé mid-sip of water, Horan scribbling notes—held firm, but the air thickened with anticipation. Manny poured into the chorus, his tone swelling with raw power: “Almost home, boy, you’ve gotta hold on / Just a little longer, baby.” Falsetto runs danced effortlessly over the melody, his phrasing laced with the ache of lived experience, drawing out vowels like a preacher’s sermon. By the bridge, the arena crowd— a mix of superfans in cowboy hats and families clutching signs—was on its feet, the applause a thunderous wave that nearly drowned the final, haunting refrain.

As the last note hung in the air like smoke from a bonfire, Reba stood, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “Oh, honey,” she exhaled, her voice cracking as she crossed to the stage, enveloping Manny in a hug that felt like coming home to grandma’s kitchen. “That song… it takes me right back to the dirt roads of Chockie, to my mama’s kitchen table where we’d sing through the hard days. You’ve got that gift—the one that heals.” Tears now flowed freely, carving paths through her flawless makeup, and that’s when Snoop sprang into action. From his perch, he rummaged in his jacket pocket, producing a crumpled pack of tissues—Kleenex branded, naturally—and lobbed it over with a gentle underhand toss. “Catch, Queen—ain’t no cryin’ alone on this panel,” he said, his grin wide and genuine. Reba caught it mid-air, laughing through her sniffles as she called him “Snoopie,” a nickname that’s become their onstage shorthand. The moment, pure and unscripted, cut through the production polish, reminding everyone that beneath the glamour, The Voice thrives on human connection.

The coaches’ pitches were a masterclass in persuasion. Snoop, ever the storyteller, leaned into the mic: “Man, that felt like sittin’ on a porch with Willie and Kris, sippin’ sweet tea and spittin’ truth. Emotion like that? It’s gold. Join the Dogg Pack—we’ll keep it real, elevate your soul.” Bublé chimed in with jazz-inflected praise: “Your control, that build—it’s got layers, like a fine Scotch. I’d love to unpack it with you.” Horan, fresh off his Season 24 win, added, “Mate, you moved the Queen to tears. That’s not just talent; that’s magic.” But Reba, composing herself with a deep breath, sealed the deal. “Manny, darlin’, I know what it’s like to be a parent chasin’ a dream. My boy’s out there somewhere, makin’ me proud every day. And that song? It’s about grace, about comin’ home. But hear this: my granddaddy was a sharecropper, lost too soon, and your voice… it brought him back. Plus,” she winked, “your girls love The Reba Show. Let’s make some new episodes together.”

What clinched it for Manny wasn’t the star power or the tears—it was the shared language of fatherhood. As the family waited backstage, Sarah holding a bouquet of daisies from the hotel lobby, Manny revealed his daughters’ obsession: nightly viewings of Reba’s ’80s sitcom, where they’d mimic her sassy one-liners and beg for reruns. “Maggie calls you ‘Aunt Reba,'” he admitted, blushing. “Leighton’s got the whole theme song memorized. Singing for you? It’s like provin’ to them that heroes are real.” With that, he donned the symbolic red scarf and declared, “Team Reba it is.” The arena erupted, confetti cannons blasting as Reba pulled him into another embrace, whispering, “You’ve got a home here, son.”

The ripple effects were immediate. Social media ignited with #RebaTears and #MannyMagic, clips of the tissue toss racking up 3 million views on TikTok overnight. Fans dissected the chemistry: “Snoop handing tissues to Reba is the buddy-cop duo we deserve,” one tweeted, while another gushed, “Manny’s voice + Reba’s heart = country therapy.” Critics hailed it as a season-defining moment, with Variety noting, “In an era of viral stunts, The Voice rediscovers its soul with Costello’s audition—a reminder that the best turns aren’t mechanical; they’re magnetic.” For the panel, it set a tone of playful rivalry laced with respect. Snoop later joked in the green room, “Reba’s a problem—she stole my steal and my tissues.” Horan quipped, “She’s got that Oklahoma voodoo; one sob, and you’re hooked.” Bublé, ever the romantic, predicted, “Manny’s going all the way. Father’s intuition trumps falsetto every time.”

Season 28, under new showrunner Audrey Morris (stepping up post-John de Mol’s retirement), introduced twists to keep the energy fresh: the “Carson Callback,” allowing Daly to revive no-turn auditions, debuted later that episode with indie rocker Ryan Mitchell earning a wildcard shot. Blocks flew early—Reba nabbing Jazz McKenzie before Snoop could, him retaliating on her country pick Mindy Miller with an onstage rap serenade that had the crowd howling. Other standouts included Aiden Ross’s four-chair Adele cover snagged by Horan, Dek of Hearts’ genre-bending trio opting for Team Niall over Reba’s pleas, and Peyton Kyle’s defiant “watch me shine” vibe landing him on Team Reba.

For Manny, the win was just the overture. Back in Athens, Sarah and the girls tuned in via livestream, Maggie leaping on the couch at his turn: “Daddy’s with Aunt Reba!” Community poured in—neighbors organizing watch parties at the local Waffle House, his warehouse crew pooling for a “Team Manny” banner. As Battles loom next week, Manny’s prepping with voice coach Sarah (no relation to his wife), focusing on dynamics while juggling FaceTime story hours. “This ain’t about me,” he told Billboard post-taping. “It’s for Maggie and Leighton—showin’ ’em that ‘almost home’ means fightin’ for your spot.”

Reba’s raw emotion, too, peeled back layers of her storied career. From her 1976 Decca debut to Annie Get Your Gun on Broadway, she’s weathered losses—the 1991 plane crash claiming her band, personal heartbreaks—but emerged as country’s unflappable matriarch. “Homesickness sneaks up,” she admitted in a post-show interview. “Manny’s song stirred that pot, but in the best way. The Voice heals, y’all.” Snoop, her “Snoopie,” echoed the sentiment: “We family now. Tissues for days.”

As the season unspools Mondays and Tuesdays at 8 p.m. ET, with live shows in May 2026, Costello’s audition stands as a beacon: proof that in a stage of spotlights, the real magic blooms from the heart. Reba’s tears weren’t just for a song—they were for the fathers, the dreamers, the ones almost home. And with Snoop’s tissue in hand, the journey’s just beginning.