Today's Musical Selection: "Drivin' My Life Away" by Eddie Rabbitt
Hey there, everyone! As promised, today I plan to write about something lighter, Jeopardy! uber-mensch Ken Jennings, or as Tony Kornheiser calls him, "Ken Jeopardy." At first, I was raring to write a good lengthy piece on the subject, and then I saw this piece by Bill Simmons. For those of you out there who are writers, I'm sure you've had this experience: coming up with a brilliant idea, sketching it out in your head, getting on a creative roll... and then seeing that someone else has already run with your idea, and better than you could. Especially if it's a writer you admire. It's kind of like being kneecapped with a baseball bat by your childhood hero. Once I realized that Simmons had tackled the Ken issue so well, the wind was out of my sails.
But then I slowly got my wind back. Because I realized that, as good as Simmons' article was, he didn't tackle everything there is to know about Ken. So I decided to proceed as planned, using Simmons' article as a springboard for my own. I hope you enjoy it.
Simmons isn't a big fan of Ken Jeopardy's personality, describing him as boring and unlikeable. And I agree that Ken isn't the most warm-and-fuzzy of game-show contestants out there. But I don't dislike Ken as much as some. For one thing, he reminds me of some friends I knew in high school. I wasn't at all surprised to learn that Ken was a Mormon, because the Mormon friends I had were very much like him: clean-cut, wholesome, friendly, humble, smiling, almost preternaturally upbeat. Their personalities seemed sanded smooth, as if all the rough or negative parts had simply been rubbed away. Ken strikes me the same way. One of my Mormon friends, upon discovering that my birthday was the next day, went home and made me a cake, from scratch. Two layers. Icing too. I'll bet Ken would do that. If my car was broken down in the middle of the night and I was stranded, I'll bet Ken would give me a lift. And yet, I understand the objections to Ken. There's something inaccessible and distant about him, as if he's not quite one of us. It might be his Mormon beliefs; their belief that they are the chosen people tends to separate them a little from the rest of us. But whatever it is, he does seem a little different. (Simmons describes him as having a "Stepford mug," which I think is accurate.)
Of course, the fact that he knows all the answers tends to irk some people, since we are a proudly anti-intellectual culture. Ken's intellect doesn't bother me, though, since I'm usually that guy. My friends have long since grown sick of watching trivia-type game shows with me, because I'm constantly shouting out the answers and expressing disgust with the contestants if they botch them. With the smug superiority of someone who doesn't have to worry about ringing in or the glare of the studio lights, I usually whip anyone on stage.
Ken, though, is even better than me. He comfortably rattles off answers that I can't quite retrieve from the back of my brain, comes up with things I never even knew, and does it all with the cool nonchalance of a guy sitting on his couch munching Chee-tos. (Quoting Simmons: "At this point, [Ken] is doing everything but making cell phone calls or throwing in a load of laundry during the show, as he goads opponents into taking crazy risks.") The way he rattles off five or ten answers in a row, with barely a pause to breathe... that's impressive. I've reached the point where I don't even try to compete with him; I just tip my hat when he comes up with an answer I don't. (I've noticed, however, that sports is something of a weakness with him. Suffice to say, I usually clean up there.)
Simmons also put his finger on Ken Jeopardy's unique appeal, the mystique of the hot hand:
Yes, he's a smarmy know-it-all with the personality of a hall monitor, the kind of guy everyone hides from at a Christmas party. But he has "it" -- that indefinable quality you have when you know you're good, when you're in the zone and taking everyone for a ride. The '86 Celts had it. They toyed with teams before ripping their hearts out, Temple of Doom style. The [Jeopardy Guy] does too. Not since the pre-nanny Tiger has somebody laid the smack down like this. He doesn't beat people, he dismantles them.
There's something comforting about seeing the JG's smiling, Stepford mug every night, and the way he shakes his head in disbelief as Trebek announces his absurd money total.... Maybe he's boring; maybe he's unlikable. But like the truly great ones, he raises his game when it matters. Who else can you count on to do that these days?
There's something great about watching a person or team who has "it," that combination of talent and luck and ruthless killer instinct that juggernauts are made of. Ken may be a peach of a human being in normal situations, but in the Jeopardy! arena, he's a juggernaut. Plenty of smart people with quick trigger finger could probably rip off a few wins in a row, but sooner or later they'd get nervous, or bored, or just run up against someone better, and be defeated. In order to win 35 games in a row, you can't just be smart and quick. You need that, yes, and luck too, but you need something else. You need "it," that indefinable something that separates Cinderella stories from underdog champions, and talented champions from dynasties. That sense that, when the chips are down, you can beat anyone at any time. This year's Pistons team had "it." So does Ken Jeopardy.
From time to time in my career as a dedicated weekend warrior, I've had "it." There are days when I was certain that, even if I was playing against someone better, I would win. And on those days, I did win. When I was growing up, I played a lot of one-on-one basketball against a kid who was taller and more talented than I was, and had a penchant for tinkering with the rules when things weren't going his way. Time after time, I'd surge out to an early lead, and he'd wait, conserve his energy, wait for me to tire myself out and then calmly start hitting his shots and eventually winning.
Well, one day I went out there and said enough was enough. And suddenly I ran harder, rebounded more tenaciously, reached longer to save out-of-bounds balls. Shots started falling from places where they never fell for me before. Eventually he realized that something was going on, and turned his game up, expecting me to wilt. But not this time. I fought him even, then snared a crazy rebound, turned around and hit a jumper falling out of bounds to secure the win. That was my first experience with "it."
Ever since then, I've been fascinated by that feeling. It's so glorious and intoxicating when you have it. You're in a sort of trance, not really fully aware of what's going on around you, just locked into that zone. I can definitely see that happening with Ken, those times when he's just rattling off answers bang-bang-bang, referring to all the categories in shorthand to save time, sometimes clicking in before he knows the answers and counting on his brain to bail him out, knowing that it will. And he also has those moments when he knows he's clearly superior to his opponents, and so he take the time to toy with them, giving himself new challenges, making his dorky attempts at humor and pretending his Daily Double answers are just shots in the dark. I've been there, too, creating new mountains to climb for myself when I realize that the available mountains aren't high enough. I know someone in the zone when I see him, and Ken is in the zone.
Simmons notes one particular incident that I remember very well, probably the last time anyone mounted anything resembling a challenge to Ken:
Last Thursday, a competitor named Tom wagered all but $200 of his $6,200 nest egg on a Daily Double. You do that when you're going against the best. It's like bunting to break up a Koufax perfect game. Tom heard the question, hemmed and hawed, winced a few times, then threw out a "guess" ... and nailed it. Uh-oh. That's the JG's move. This was like John Starks sticking out his tongue and dunking on MJ. Certain lines should not be crossed. Even Alex's voice hushed.
You can guess what happened next. Trailing by $1,400 with half the board remaining, the JG rolled up the sleeves of his professor's jacket and went to work: six straight answers for six grand. When a flustered Tom botched the next one, the JG answered it correctly, exhaling for good measure. By the end of the second round, he'd tripled Tom's total, practically preening as they headed into commercial. The lesson, as always: don't wake up a sleeping corduroy giant.
That was a truly amazing moment. It was a brilliant ploy on Tom's part: the only way to beat Ken Jeopardy is to go all-out on the Daily Doubles. It's the only prayer you have of catching up. And you don't get to take the money home for finishing a respectable second. Tom knew what he had to do, and he did it. Unfortunately for him (and there was nothing he could do about this), there was too much time left, so Ken just kicked ass the rest of the way and left Tom gasping. Had the Daily double come closer to the end of the round, it might have worked. But that moment -- the realization that someone just might have figured out how to beat Ken -- was great television.
Not as great, though, as seeing Ken get on the nerves of Alex Trebek. Let's face it: up until recently, the only reason to watch Jeopardy! was to watch Trebek's ongoing disintegration. When I was younger, Trebek's knowledgable quizmaster persona was a welcoming presence, the appropriate companion to the show. Somewhere along the line, though, Trebek seems to have become convinced that he was God's gift to quiz shows, and became insufferably arrogant, as if he personally concocted all the questions and the contestants were morons for not knowing what he "knew." (Come to think of it, "insufferably arrogant" is a fair description of my game-show-watching persona. But a national audience doesn't have to put up with me.)
And then later on, he just fell apart. He started leering at female contestants like a construction worker on lunch break, reminiscing fondly about doing drugs in college and singing absent-mindedly to himself when the show returned from commercial break. (I swear I saw all these things happen. Easily the creepiest moment occurred when a young female contestant looked up at the sky after nailing a question, and Alex said, "Correct. And I adore the shape of your neck when you tilt your head upward." I swear.) It was hard to believe that I'd ever wanted to be like this man.
Ken's emerging has highlighted a couple things about Alex. First, he hates being upstaged. Second, he hates contestants who appear smarter than him. As time has gone on, Alex has grown less and less able to even fake congratulations for Ken after each successive win. Lately, he's come to sound like a man reading off the rolls of deaths in combat. Alex is even more noticably perturbed when Ken steals the spotlight from him. Last night, Ken made some lame joke and the whole audience laughed. Alex immediately started snarling, "You do know, of course, everyone, that this is the Ken Jennings Show. So let me get out of the way here. Ken, relax. Stretch a little. And when you're ready, at your leisure, select another category." Ken has become bigger than Alex, and Alex can't stand it. It's fun to watch him fume.
So when will Ken finally be beaten? Simmons theorizes, "I see it ending like Gagne's save streak -- a close game, then some sort of fluke and everyone standing around in disbelief. Either that, or one of the other contestants pummels him to death." A decent possibility. Eventually, you think, he may run into someone who's as good as he is, remains within striking distance, and manages to beat Ken in Final Jeopardy. Personally, though, I think it will end when Ken gets bored. Once he runs out of extra mountains to set up for himself, or clever ways to write his name, he'll go down.
I can foresee two ways for this to happen: He'll start betting the whole wad in Final Jeopardy, and eventually he'll get one wrong. Maybe he'd even refuse to answer the question. If he did that, especially after hitting some milestone like 50 wins in a row, it sends a clear message: I'm only beaten because I want to be. It's a strong statement. Probably too strong for a nice guy like Ken.
So I think it'll happen the way Simmons envisions, only it'll be semi-intentional. He'll have a deliberately slow trigger finger. He'll "forget" some of the answers. Once he sees somebody he could credibly lose to, as he's been on the ride long enough, I think he might just lay back and let his competitor win. It's subtler, a less-obvious assertion of superiority, but it's more gracious. And Ken seems, at bottom, like a gracious guy.
In the end, I think we should be thankful for Ken Jeopardy. As Simmons points out, it's not often that we get a chance to see someone operating at that level, and we should be grateful when we can see it. It's not every day that we get to see greatness in action. We should take our opportunities when they come.
Loyal reader Carl of FoolBlog shares my distaste for James Lileks and his approach to political discourse, and he passed along a very funny parody of some popular right-wing bloggers. Lileks is second on the list. If you've never read it before, you should definitely give it a look.
And that's all for today. Who knows what tomorrow will bring? See you then!
Posted by Fred at July 21, 2004 03:47 PM