Winning on Jeopardy
It’s Complicated: Lit Up & The Writing Cooperative Contest
So, I guess you could say that I won on Jeopardy.
She stood next to me, equally quick with the signaling device and the correct answer. I…was not. Sometimes I joke that I lost because I was distracted by her radiance, but the reality of it was that I had not practiced as much as I should have and barely passed the initial test in the first place. The entire time I stood on that stage, I expected Alex or one of his many producers to suddenly come to their senses and call me out for the fraud I so obviously was.
But I got to meet her, that was the thing. Hair shining and smile so bright and fresh, she radiated good health and intelligence and humor. I couldn’t tell you at the time what exact color her hair was, or what outfit she wore, but I imagined that she could become someone special in my life — if only because I saw the possibility of what could be, of what my future might someday include.
She would always represent the future, and hope, and optimism.
However, I was not optimistic about my own playing. Time after time, I was in the red, struggling just to keep my chance at the Final Jeopardy round.
“What is Borneo?”
“No, sorry.”
“Who is Marty McFly?”
“No, that is incorrect.”
“What is the Yangtze?”
“No, sorry, that’s wrong.”
The one thing I did not do was the ultimate humiliation of forgetting to phrase the response in the form of a question. Small miracle that was.
“What is pi?”
And I added $1000 to my bank and was finally back out of the red.
Occasionally, I could see the champion turn slightly toward me, pity in his eyes. He was a confident and decent player, but no Ken Jennings. His gray suit, tie, and hair made him ultimately forgettable. He’d won his only game by the skin of his teeth, but at least he had not floundered as utterly as I was doing. Sheila (for that was her name, Sheila of the shining smile and the quick wit) was strong competition. The audience and Alex all seemed to love Sheila.
As the game raced towards its completion, I began to realize the full extent of my problem. Jeopardy films a week’s worth of games daily. We were playing game four of that day. If Sheila won this game, I would be gone and would lose my chance. She would be going directly into the next game. I would be (likely) forgotten as that kinda cute guy who stood next to her, assuming she saw me at all. I would be the one who ended in third place and was therefore to be teased by his family forever.
“Who was Polk?”
“What is transcendental meditation?”
“What is 867–5309?”
But the real questions I wanted to ask were:
“Who are you seeing?” (Surely she was seeing someone.)
“Would you like to meet for coffee?” (Thanks to Alex’s brief interview, I knew she was a coffee aficionado and would likely love the teeny shop I found a few blocks away.)
“Is it too soon to ask for eternity?”
Three more boxes left on the board, and time was flying. I was in dead last, but still on the plus side. Sheila was a very close second, ready to overtake the champ. Her smile remained unfazed. She was having fun, and it showed. I could imagine fans at home watching our game and simply enjoying her happiness.
Suddenly, we had our Final Jeopardy category. World Geography. I cringed, and hoped it didn’t show on my face. I’d already missed every single response to the geography clues.
Ok, crunch time. What to do?
The music played, the room went dark. And still I wasn’t sure.
Would she think I was nuts?
Would I get buzzed off the show?
Ok, here goes nothing… (dry, desperate laugh) This would either work and I’d have a chance at coffee with the amazing Sheila… Or it wouldn’t, and my family would tease me about this for years.
“What is — Sheila, would you like to meet me for coffee after you win?” And I wagered it all.
Amidst Alex’s dumbfounded laugh and the audience’s roar of obvious approval, all I could hear was -
“Yes.”
