The Night I Played Trivia For One Million Dollars

I grew up reading almanacs, books, periodicals, Guiness Book of World Records. I could read some tidbit and pull it out of my memory bank years later, irritating friends and family when playing Trivia Pursuit. My wife said more than once, “it would be great if you could make a living at trivia.” I would laugh and silently agree.

In the mid-90's a new form of bar trivia came out from a company called NTN. The bar where I worked subscribed and our customers fell in love playing trivia on game boxes connected to our TV’s against other bars around the country.

In the Spring of 1997, NTN began a contest called the Million Dollar Match. Contestants had to match a predetermined number to qualify for a trip to San Diego and play for one million dollars. The contest was once a week for ten weeks to pick the ten finalists. Knowing the answers weren’t enough, you also had to hit the game box at just the right time to match that weeks number. The questions started off being worth 1,000 points and then the value went down as the seconds ticked away. So the weeks number might be 7,895. The trick was hitting the game box at just the right time. We practiced for hours by making up our own numbers.

The first several weeks I wasn’t close. The fourth week I hit the number and lost in a playoff. The contest was down to the last two weeks. Two spots left. I was pressing and getting crabbier as the weeks went by. The people in my bar kept encourging me. And then week nine I hit the number in both qualifiying games. So did several other people around the country. A playoff was staged the following week and I won. I was going to San Diego to play for one million dollars.

Now my name was added to the NTN screen that highlighted who would be playing for a million dollars. The next two months was a blur of anticipation and nerves. My new nickname while bartending was “the million dollar man.” That was fun and nervewracking all at the same time.

Finally, it was time to go to San Diego.

Walking into the LaJolla Marriot after travelling cross-country, my wife and I noticed signs for a gathering of contestants at a welcoming party sponsored by NTN. Much food and drink was had as we sized each other up. After all, in two days we were going to be competing for a million dollars. But as the night and the beer wore on, most of us expected NTN to set the number to win so high that we assumed this would just be a nice three-day weekend. The exception was Golf Pro Man.

Golf Pro Man was from Texas and stuck out with his aloofness. It was clear he was there on a mission and we were to be flicked out of his way. His distain for not only our trivia abilities, but our desire to have fun, was palpable to the point where over the next several days the joke was anyone but the dude from Texas.

After several days of fun provided by NTN, including an appearance on Good Morning San Diego, it was time to play. Two games of fifteen questions each. To win the money, you had to hit the number exact in both games.

The free booze from NTN stopped the day of the contest as they didn’t want to be held liable if any of us were too drunk to play. Considering the past two days and nights…. enforced sobriety was probably a good idea.

We were sequestered in our rooms upstairs for the last hours as NTN set up big screens for those attending, individual tables for us to play on,and the legal department for the company ensuring the game boxes worked as they should. Back up boxes were put on each table.

Finally it was time. The past several months of nerves had led to this… smoking like a chimney and pacing in our hotel room as my anxiety disorder kicked in hard. Damn NTN for not letting us drink, I thought over and over riding the elevator down. I was escorted into the main room and noticed I wasn’t the only person ready to fall apart. Nerves had taken hold on most of the contestants. We were no longer allowed to talk to one another. A weak smile and wave was all I could muster. I wanted to faint.

Then I saw Golf Pro Man.

Somehow he had found a new level of arrogance. He strutted to his table with a smirk and swagger. I loathed him as my stomach churned. Seeing him snapped me out of my daze. I was determined that if nothing else I would beat him.

The event introduced each of us as if we were on Jeopardy. Names, hometowns, and home bars listed on the big screen, an announcer calling our names and cajoling the crowd to cheer us on. I glanced at my wife and lit a cigarette. I really wished I could have a beer in that moment, but a Coke would have to do.

9,887.

That was the number we had to hit twice for one million dollars. I was shocked it was so low and the looks on the other players faces told the same story. The announcer asked everyone to be quiet as the countdown on the big screen began.

3…2..1.

The first question came up.

That moment my body did something it only did when getting married or flying. Muscles started to twitch, my legs started to noodle, and my brain went into hyperdrive. It was an easy question. The problem was transferring knowing the answer to pressing the correct button. For a couple of seconds I couldn’t press the right button. Instead of the easy 1,000 that I should have made, I scored 890. Realizing that I had panicked made my anxiety disorder intensify. The next several questions the same thing happened. I would get just under 1,000. I noticed most of the other competitors were doing much worse. The pressure was buckling us.

After five questions it was clear most were already done. Golf Pro Man, several other players,and myself were the only ones with a legitimate chance at the big money. I settled down for the second set of five questions. So did Golf Pro Man. The others faded. With five questions to go in the first game it was down to the two of us.

After twelve questions we were both within range of the winning number. The question would be could either of us hit it exact. The thirteenth question we both went over the number which was disaster. That meant we had to miss the next question on purpose to get negative points. It came down to the fifteenth question.

Before the question came up I gave a quick look around the room. It’s amazing how quiet close to three hundred people can suddenly get. I noticed more than a few of the players discretionly smiling in my direction, but saying nothing. It was like baseball players who don’t talk to a pitcher working on a no-hitter.

The fifteenth question came. I went over the number. Golf Pro Man went over the number. The crowd groaned. No one was going to win the million. My head was spinning. The months of trying to qualify, the two months waiting to fly to San Diego,practicing hitting numbers for hours after the bar closed. It was all over. I was going home not as “the million dollar man”, but as simply Jim.

When the disappointment from the crowd subsided NTN announced we still had to play the second game, but as a surprise the winner would receive a trip to St. Thomas. My wife and I had been there two years prior for our honeymoon. I looked over at her and saw in her face that not winning one million dollars was perfectly okay. I let go of the anxiety.

They let us get a beer now that the big money was off the table.

The consolation game was a breeze to play. We all played much better and were on top of the number by the tenth question, but no one could get really close. Finally, the aloof, arrogant, smug Golf Pro Man got to 9,885 on the fourteenth question. He was two points away. I was at 9,878, nine away. Several people were five or six away.

As the final question appeared on the screen I watched Golf Pro Man sit back with arms folded. He wasn’t about to blow it by going over and assumed no one would better him. As the number on the screen went from 1,000 down to 500, I glanced at him again. Arms folded. At 250 I glanced over again. Arms folded, leaning back now. As the number dropped below 100 I held my finger over the box… waiting for the right moment…. below 50…. below 25…. it’s time….hit the button.

9,886.

I was one point away from the magic number and had taken the trip to St. Thomas away from Golf Pro Man. The stunned look on his face was just about worth not winning the million dollars. He got up and stormed off to get a drink. The other players mobbed me, happy that Golf Pro Man had been denied. The rest of the night was a dizzying blur of drinking and dancing. I never realized not winning one million dollars could be so much fun.

When I got home everyone assumed I would be mopeying for weeks. Instead I was happy. I had played for a million dollars. I had almost won a million dollars. But most importantly… I had beaten Golf Pro Man.