That was Jeopardy!

In case you haven't heard, I've been on a few game shows back in the day. While my success varied from show to show from sweeping victories to traumatic choke jobs, overall they were all great experiences. I enjoyed the traveling, the hotel rooms, meeting/alienating other contestants from all over the country, the catered grub in the green room, the nervous competition on camera, the always friendly makeup ladies, and of course the occasional quick buck.

Aside from the fond experiences, the money, and the snagged hotel stationary; the one other parting gift I got from my weird game show odyssey was a set of never fail ice-breaking personal anecdotes. No matter what sort of social situation I'm in I find that if I can get out the personal fact that I was on a few game shows, it always manages to get the other person engaged and interested. So many of my recent job interviews over the summer began with curious inquiries and enthusiastic follows up questions about the "multiple game show contestant" blurb I put in my personal interests section. While the interview usually goes south when it comes to my job experience and academic performance, for the beginning it's all wide eyed wonder about meeting Alex Trebek or winning a quarter million dollars. When I went backpacking for a month through Costa Rica the summer after my last show, conversations about my game show appearances were usually a key part of friendly conversations struck up with other foreign traveling strangers from hostel to hostel. Hell, a good quarter of my Facebook friends are still random folks who found me after watching me on TV. For most people outside of my closest friends and family, for better or for worse, these game shows go a long way in defining me.

While the WSOPC was my single crowning achievement, almost everyone who has asked about my game show past always wants to know about Jeopardy. In fact, more often then not people have no idea what the WSOPC was (a fact that's sadly even more true today). I guess it's not all that surprising though since Jeopardy really is the most well known, longest running, holy grail of trivia game shows. I even have to admit, aside from the money, a loss on Jeopardy felt like a far more esteemed feat than a win on VH1. In addition, while the WSPOC was a group effort with my two friends and I, my Jeopardy appearance was a singular feat among my group of friends. It gave me a special bit of pride to have been on that podium next to Alex with the framed picture to prove it.

So when I recently got a call from my friend that she had been selected to compete on Jeopardy, I was surprised to find my personal reaction turned out to be more a complicated mix of bittersweet melancholy than usual congratulatory happiness. I should have been happy for her, she was a good friend and as a longtime, die hard, Jeopardy fan (who was actually responsible for getting me to take the online test back in the day), there wasn't anyone I knew that was more deserving of a chance to be on the show. However, I couldn't muster what logically should have been the feeling of happiness for her. All I could think about was the sad end of my once solitary distinction as the Jeopardy guy among our friends.

Which brings me back to the above pictured 1972 Miami Dolphins. For those who don't follow football, the 1972 Dolphins have their own solitary distinction as the only NFL team to have an undefeated regular season and to win the Super Bowl. They're also kind of a bunch of obnoxious assholes. The surviving members of the 1972 Dolphins have this insufferable tradition of coming together and drinking champagne every year when the final undefeated team loses their first game and thus ensuring them another year of solitary residency in "Perfectville". It's sort of a dick move to be actively rooting against an undefeated team and garishly celebrating something that happened nearly 40 years ago. I've always been against the 1972 Dolphins and their annoying tradition, even going as far as to root for the New England Patriots in Super Bowl XLII to complete their perfect season and finally put an end to their decades long arrogance. However, today I started to understand, albeit in only a small sense, the motivation for the 1972 Dolphins' yearly ritual. A pretty distinction is a petty distinction but it's still one's own petty distinction.

Having a record or distinction and having someone else come along and match or even surpass it is a complicated feeling. It's not exactly envy or jealously because you already have what they have, it's just an indescribable combination of sullen psedo-selfishness. You can be as gracious and as magnanimous as anyone, but I think it's only natural to sort of feel a sad sense of loss when something you've accomplished is overtaken; whether it be a game show appearance, or perfect season, or a high score on Gameboy Tetris. So maybe avoiding that feeling is something worth celebrating or actively rooting for. You can try to write it off by thinking that in the grand scheme of things none of these distinctions even matter, but that's just straight up rationalization. Yes outside of the incredibly narrow universe of my circle of friends, being the only contestant on Jeopardy won't matter a lick and to someone who doesn't follow any football, the surviving 1972 Dolphins just look like a bunch of wrinkled Florida retirees; but I live in the universe of my circle of friends and the Dolphins live in the universe of football fans. No matter what perspective you give it, it is still important to yourself.

So do I think the 1972 Dolphins are justified in breaking out the champagne? No. Would I actively root for my friend to crash and burn on her first appearance and not even make it to Final Jeopardy? No. Will I learn to be completely happy about all this? No. Am I still proud of her? Yes.

Well, at least with the cancellation of the WSOPC, I won't have to worry about losing that particular distinction.

Lovely Parting Gifts

I went to check the mail the other day, looking forward to ogling the women of the Sears catalog, when I came across a suspiciously plain looking white envelope directed to me. It wasn't from any college and the return address wasn't from Wilmington, Delaware so it wasn't credit card junk mail. It was from Culver City, California and a few moments later I put two and two together and realized that there was only one reason I'd be getting a letter from Culver City, California: Jeopardy!

Yes, the fabulous winnings from my forgettably brief run had finally been processed and sent home. I had just been granted the sweet, sweet rewards of third place and a key to the fantastic lifestyle that accompanies it. After I subtract the cost of flight and lodging to Los Angeles, and the stiff California game show taxes I've earned myself about a couple hundred bucks for the whole experience (of course I'm not factoring in the Jeopardy tote bag, Jeopardy picture frame, and personal picture with Trebek for said picture frame; the combined value of which I deem priceless).

Despite the hint of sarcasm, in the end I'm gracious to have received anything at all and the overall Jeopardy experience was pretty awesome. I kinda wish I could pull a Rickey Henderson and keep it in my room. Looking at this check is definitely a bittersweet experience though. I just wanted to win one game, just one game and I knew I was good enough to do it. Years of college bowl, a childhood of trivia, and a lifetime of people saying "you should go on Jeopardy" had groomed me for that shinning moment and I had blown it all in that critical moment of hesitation during the last notes of the Final Jeopardy theme when I choose Poland instead of Austria in my mind. On top of it all I also went for the blaze of glory betting strategy instead of actually thinking logically about reasonable wagers which could have also helped me out. I can only wonder what the "Sliding Doors" winner Victor would have ended up with. Would he have just blown it in the next game? Would he have challenged Ken Jennings (me verses Ken...yeah right)? How many more zeros could this check have had?

It took me a few months to get over that choke but in the mean time I've had the benefit of winning another game show (a comfort I assume few other Jeopardy third place finishers have) to salve my mental wounds. It will be a Merry Christmas indeed when the VH1 checks comes in sometime by the end of this year. As of now though I've gotten over it, not enough to see that episode again on TV, but over it enough to watch Jeopardy again on TV and spend this money (which will probably go into that insatiable "get Victor through law school fund"...or a Wii).

I'll take Envy for $1000, Alex.

So let me lay the setting for you: it's another busy Tuesday morning in February in the Jeopardy green room at Sony Pictures Studio in Culver City California. About twenty or so excited contestants from all over the country are introducing themselves, making small talk, partaking in the assortment of coffee, juices, fruit, and breakfast pastries laid out before us. The producers are going through their rounds, chatting amongst themselves, chatting with the contestants, getting to know them better. I'm sitting quietly in the back sofa, drinking my Naked juice and looking over the competition.

I scan over the group and figure my chances for success are good. There are a lot of friendly looking elementary school teacher type ladies, couple of yuppie looking suits, and few grandparents here and there. It's like morning at the DMV, they are normal "adults", they aren't college bowlers. These normals "adults" have jobs, kids, mortgages, responsibilities, and all that stuff. They probably watched the show after a long day of doing things in the real world and while I am this string-less, young, dilettante whose introduction on the show is "a recent college graduate". They didn't have the time to bounce around wikipedia for hours at a time just for the sake of it, or just completed four years of academic bowl competitions. I figure I have an advantage.

So things are going along, they're chatting, I'm drinking, and the makeup lady is starting to take individuals into the back to get done up. That's when the final contestant comes through the door, Mr. Andrew Rostan, college student, from Ohio.


It was at that point I made a mental note in my head: If I do actually win a game or two this will be the guy who'll kill me. This was all just based on first impressions mind you. He had the look, it was the look I had seen countless times hanging out in the main room at the beginning of countless tournaments. A classic trivia master, pale, glasses, quiet, awkward to the bone, quick as lightening on the buzzer, and filled to the brim with knowledge. I was so compelled my first question to him was "did you ever do college bowl?". He said he didn't.

Although that first impression of mine was wrong, after talking to him for a bit, every other impression was correct. This guy knew his shit. And even more frightening was he also knew his pop culture shit. My shit. We talked about Tin Machine and he knew the names of both Soupy Sales' sons, the producer lady made a reference about a 1970s comedy about an illegal, cross country car race with a young Raul Julia and everyone in the room, the producer, and you were convinced it was "Cannonball Run" and he kept saying it was film called "The Gumball Rally", which I looked up later at the hotel.

So as the story went, I got picked to go first and I got sandwiched between two relatively non-threatening ladies. I gave it a good effort but I was done in by my hubris and utter lack of betting strategy. Greatly disappointed at my lost opportunity I passed on watching the others play and went straight to my hotel and took an early flight home. Since then I haven't watched a full episode of Jeopardy (including my own), until last Wed, when I caught the end of an episode and lo and behold, there was Andrew banking $23,000.

I checked the back logs and found that he had up to that point won like over $100,000 over four days! And according to YouTube, pwning the competition. He eventually lost the next day (on the most ridiculous Final Jeopardy question I've seen in a while) giving him a final five day champion total of $126,000! This would, if the website is correct, make him the 7th biggest winner in Jeopardy history...and I'm pretty sure they'll bring him back for the Tournament of Champions!

Now I should be exited that a fellow young dilettante such as I, really stuck it to the competition and proved that a childhood of too much TV and trivia would pay great dividends, but I'm not. In fact, this little run bothered me more than anything else. It's envy, pure and simple. If John the network administrator or Martha the librarian went on the same streak I probably wouldn't have even remembered it. But, this guy was me, at least close enough to me, and every dollar he made was a disgusting reminder of what could have been had I picked Austria instead of Poland, or thought of the possibility that my opponent could have also gotten he answer wrong. Could I just have easily spring boarded myself to six figures and extra face time with Trebek? It's the one question that can never be answered.

It's also annoying since I had just about forgotten all about that debacle when I caught that show. I've had a lot of stuff happen between then and now to dilute the memories of February. I'll eventually get over it, perhaps time and winning more game shows will help me get back to where I was, but it'll take a while. So if you're doing some sort of vanity internet search Mr. Andrew Rostan, and you come across this entry, I just want to say I commend you on your achievement but, through no direct fault of your own, way to open an old wound.