When I was growing up there was really only one game show that I thought I’d like to be on and that was Jeopardy. That one, I thought, was entirely about what you knew and I thought I was pretty smart so I figured I’d do well. I’ve never tried to be on that show, but I do believe that if I had that opportunity, it might not go well.
When I was in elementary school, I was part of a school quiz team. I don’t remember much about that one but I do recall one of the questions I got right. Here was one of the questions I got right:
Question: If Athlete’s get Athlete’s Foot, what do Astronauts get?
Answer: Missile Toe!
Okay, not the greatest demonstration of knowledge, but this was on local PBS and it was in competition against another elementary school, so that was something!
The only other recollection I have of that experience was that I was very, very nervous throughout. Something about the TV cameras, certainly, but also just not wanting to look dumb in front of whoever might watch the show. I cared far too much what other people thought of me.
Our elementary school had a yearly spelling bee. You could compete as a fifth or sixth grader. Typically, as you might expect, it was won by a sixth grader, but very occasionally a fifth grader would sneak in and win it.
The year I was a fifth grader I won the spelling bee. The winning word was “mysterious”. The remaining sixth grader, a big kid whose little brother was in my class and had made my life difficult in the past, failed to spell the word correctly. I spelled it correctly and suddenly I was the winner!
Neither of my parents were there to see me win. I don’t even know if they knew that the event was taking place. I certainly don’t know that I would have wanted them there in any case.
That day, in front of everyone at the event, which was most of the school, I, a lowly fifth grader was the best speller in the school.
I got a little trophy, which is still in a box in my garage, and my name went on a plaque that sat in the trophy case for the school. It was still there almost 20 years later when I visited the school just before it was torn down. I still got a thrill in seeing my name on that plaque, even though the plaque had migrated to the back of the case as newer trophies were added.
That day was one of the best days of my life (up to that point). I was popular at recess. Kids were offering me some of their candy. I was cool. I was King of the World.
The next year I was prepared to return to the spelling bee and accomplish something that had happened very rarely and that was to win back-to-back spelling bees.
As it turns out, I had missed a few weeks of school that year when my appendix decided to explode, but I’d done my homework and felt like I was on top of my stuff.
That year my Dad made a point of coming to the Bee and I could see him at the back of the cafeteria.
It was not even near the end of the bee when I was given the work “barbecue”. I was drawing a blank. All I could think of was bar-b-q and BBQ and so I spelled it “bar-be-que”. But, I was fairly confident.
I recall the teacher saying “That’s incorrect” and knew I was expected to leave the stage. The next few minutes were filled with ringing ears and feelings of abject failure. I recall seeing my dad leave the cafeteria as I went to join my class at the tables. A bit later my teacher showed me that we’d just recently covered the word in our spelling lessons – while I was out with recovering from my appendectomy. I think he was trying to make me feel better about not having seen it there, but I knew I felt like I had failed. Not only in front of my class, but in front of my father.
Years later, when I was swimming, I used to get very nervous before a race. This was made worse when I knew there were people there watching. Usually meets weren’t attended by much more than the swimmers and maybe a few parents. My parents were there very occasionally.
On this particular occasion I recall that both my parents were there and, of course, I wanted to impress them and do well, so I was incredibly nervous. So much so that about 15 minutes before the meet my stomach was feeling upset so I went to the bathroom thinking I needed to use the facilities but as I entered the bathroom it became clear the problem was in my stomach and I proceeded to projectile vomit about four feet (at least in my memory) in to the stand up urinal.
I felt much better after that and went out and swam one of my fastest times, so maybe it was the reduction in weight or just getting it out of my system, but I’m glad that didn’t become a regular thing for me.
In High School, during my Sophomore year, I made it as an alternate on the High School Bowl team. This was your basic quiz show format between two high school teams of four folks.
Our team was anchored by a guy named Rex who seemed to have an amazingly encyclopedic knowledge of all things so he tended to single-handedly answer 80% of the questions. That left the remaining three to handle the rest. And, should one of those folks not be available, one of we two alternates would get a chance to play.
Because I was second alternate, I only got to play in one game. I recall going in to the studio and being amazed at how many lights there were and how hot it was. If I looked out from the little desks, all I could see was very, very bright lights.
This all made me incredibly nervous.
The show started and fortunately our anchor, Rex, was there and answering a good number of the questions. I wanted to answer a question or two, but it seemed that my ability to actually think was indirectly proportional to the the number of people watching and, in my head, there was EVERYONE watching this which meant I was almost paralyzed with fear. Fear of failure, fear of appearing dumb, fear of being wrong.
Finally, though, a question came up that I thought I knew the answer to. It had something to do with measuring light, but I don’t recall it exactly. What I do recall is that I got it wrong. I answered Lumens and it was Candles or vice versa. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I answered exactly one question in my High School Bowl career and I answered it wrong.
All of which is a long way of saying, No, I don’t think I’m going to try to be on Jeopardy. I’m pretty sure I’d do well against the High School Kids. Might even do reasonably well against the College Kids. I suspect the adults would eat me alive. And, even if the didn’t, I suspect the studio lights would once again cause me history’s biggest case of flop sweat as I stare in to the bright lights like a moon-eyed cow, gawping like a goldfish, my mouth opening and closing slowly and soundlessly.
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