Number Two (12 page)

I dropped the french fry that had been situated between my thumb and forefinger when I heard the news. I looked at Stephen as he turned to me.

“I think your interview is over,” he said.

“I know.”

Stephen tried to apologize but I was having none of it. I had been in the business long enough to know when a writer was going to get bumped, and getting bumped because the mayor of Canada's largest city admitted to smoking crack on live television was a pretty respectable way to get bumped.

My only concern was the remainder of the day. I still had several television and radio interviews left to go. Would anyone have time for me now that their resources were going to be dedicated to covering this new Ford revelation? Furthermore, what about the reading public? Would any of them even remember any of the interviews if all their attention had been justifiably taken away by this breakthrough? Was there a chance that all the hard work I had done to promote the book could be completely wiped away by the confessions of an overweight and drug-addicted sensualist who was guiding civic politics in the Greater Toronto Area? I tried not to let it depress me as I sheepishly wandered back toward the green room, with the audio technician who had put a microphone on me chasing after me to get his mic back. I made some more small talk with Curt Harnett, who had also been bumped from his segment, and then collected my things and left.
Rob Ford
, I thought to myself,
what a fucking asshole
.

T
he old MuchMusic studio—a studio that has hosted countless famous musicians and countless VJs introducing countless poorly shot Canadian videos—is now home to
The Social
, a daytime talk show in the vein of ABC's
The View
.
The Social
is the brainchild of Melissa Grelo. Melissa co-hosted our
Olympic Morning
coverage back in Vancouver 2010 up in Whistler, and much like me she received positive reviews and praise, plus a general sense that it might lead to a career boost once she returned home. Unfortunately, also like me, she received no such advancement or promotion after
Olympic Morning
. In the case of Melissa, though, it had nothing to do with her talent and certainly nothing to do with her looks (she's a knockout). Rather, it seemed to have everything to do with the biggest problem facing Canadian television since the industry began—a
lack of shows. There was simply nowhere to move Melissa that wouldn't have meant jettisoning a perfectly capable host out of an already occupied spot.

For the two years following the Vancouver Olympics, Melissa and I would meet regularly for coffee and basically lament the lack of progress in our careers. I kept her up to date on my ultimately failed attempt to launch a Canadian version of
The Soup
, and she kept me up to date on her continuing attempts to launch a Canadian version of
The View
.
Ultimately, through dogged persistence and a staggering work ethic, Melissa prevailed in her quest, and CTV agreed to put the show on right after
The Marilyn Denis Show
starting in the fall of 2013, just before
Anchorboy
hit the shelves. The catch? Melissa was going to continue as co-host of the CP24 morning show. That meant Mel would be working almost twelve-hour days for the chance to realize her dream of her own Canadian daytime talk show. But it was her own choice; the tenuous nature of Canadian television success made her feel it was necessary. Welcome once again to the glamorous world of Canadian TV!

To promote my book, I was going to join the cast of
The Social
as the fifth co-host. I figured the show would give me the perfect opportunity to reach exactly the right audience for
Anchorboy
: moms, moms, and more moms—the kind of moms who would (hopefully) be searching for that perfect gift to put in their son's or husband's stocking for the Christmas season. All I had to do was be charming and funny.

Melissa was hosting that afternoon alongside another
Olympic Morning
veteran from Vancouver, Elaine “Lainey” Lui. As I walked into the studio, I saw Lainey sitting at a table in the middle of the room checking her phone, every few seconds taking a big pull off an e-cigarette that she kept close by. I sat down next to her, and we began chatting about her move to Vancouver. She was born and
raised in Toronto, but like many Torontonians who find themselves in Vancouver for work, school, or whatever, she never had a desire to come back east. Vancouver has that amazing pull for so many people. Lainey had her own business with her megapopular website and really didn't need to be in the so-called centre of the Canadian media universe full time. She expressed no desire to ever return to Toronto, despite the fact that she spoke with her mom daily and her mom lived there. But the lure of being one of the stars on
The Social
was obviously enough to finally convince her and her husband to make the cross-country move. It was hard to tell if she was enjoying herself because it was always hard to tell if she was enjoying herself. But I was happy to see her. I may or may not have had a mild crush.

Seconds later I was called into the circle of hosts. Literally. All the other hosts including a pregnant Melissa gathered around in a circle and joined hands and said a little motivational prayer, something that had never happened to me before in my near twenty-year career in television. It was kind of nice. I decided I would have to try it with Dan sometime—only it would just be the two of us holding hands and staring directly at each other. Might be a tough sell.

Not surprisingly, the topic of discussion that day had taken a recent and rather shocking turn. Whatever the gaggle of super-cute producers had originally planned for the show had been thrown into a large trash bin behind 299 Queen and replaced with Rob Ford, Rob Ford, and more Rob Ford. At least this was a topic I could speak somewhat intelligently about, having just had two years of hard work swept aside by a mayor who had a little problem controlling his appetites. This was actually going to be fun. The studio audience seemed to consist of about seventy-five or so moms and their best girlfriends and one slightly familiar dude sitting in the back row. Where had I seen that guy before?

We got a nice standing ovation from the crowd and we were off. Melissa kept things rolling along with questions and talking points. She was always a great host at CP24 and now she was really in her element.
The Social
is perfectly suited to her strengths, and I was so happy she had achieved her goal of getting her own show on the air. I managed to get a few laughs for my story about Mayor Ford interrupting my interview on CP24 earlier that day. The crowd seemed to respond well to my
Anchorboy
stories, and I think I might have even sold a few books. I knew my own mom was watching at home and was probably pretty happy. In other words, everything was going well.

But who was that lone guy in the back row?

At one point during the discussion about Ford, right before the first commercial break, Melissa asked the audience members if any of them had an opinion about the recent Ford revelation, and a couple of the show's producers (there seemed to be about twenty of them) stood by with handheld microphones, ready to leap into the crowd for instant interaction. The man in the back row was the first to raise his hand and I suddenly realized who he was.

He was there to see me, and this was about to get weird.

Dana McKiel is a man who never ages. He looks the same today as the first time I met him back in 1994. I had known the man in the back row for twenty years, and I probably owed him as much credit for my career as anyone. Dana was a lifer at Rogers Community Cable channels all across Ontario, but mostly in the Toronto area. He had been an on-air host for Rogers Community Cable for longer than anyone in the province. He was a huge part of their Ontario university, college, and high school sports broadcasts, either doing play-by-play or hosting.

Dana was an incredibly friendly and chatty character who dressed a little bit like a used car salesman and probably would have been great at selling just about anything. But he also loved sports. I mean
loved
sports. It takes a pretty special person to continue to follow and maintain a passion for amateur sports for so many years beyond just following the exploits of your own kids. Dana was a man who was truly born to be a host on his channel. He was really perfect, and Rogers was very lucky to have him.

Just a month or so into my first year at Ryerson I saw a posting on the bulletin board in the audio laboratory, where we spliced together reel-to-reel tape and hosted radio shows. The posting asked for a reporter for Rogers Community Cable live sports events throughout the Toronto area. An actual on-air position while you were attending broadcasting school—albeit
not
a paying one. I was almost vibrating, I was so determined to get the job. I knew there were several other people at Ryerson, not just in my class but second- and third-year students as well, who would be just as desperate to get the job as I was. Ultimately, what sealed the job for me were two things: volunteering at ITV News in Edmonton during my second year at the University of Alberta, and more importantly, asking the nice crew at ITV News to allow me five minutes of on-camera reading from the teleprompter. This awkward, stiff, and rather robotic performance formed the basis of my very first demo tape, of which I carried at least five VHS copies around with me at all times. I mailed a copy of the VHS demo to Dana and about a week later got a message on my answering machine in my dorm room on the sixth floor of Pitman Hall.

“Hi, Jay, it's Dana McKiel calling from Rogers Cable 10. We'd like to bring you on board, big guy!”

I went sprinting out of my dorm room and leapt over a couch in the common area of the senior suite I was sharing with four
other students, like I was a young Perdita Felicien during Canadian Olympic trials. My friend Allan Thrush, who now works as a freelance editor and producer in Calgary, says it was one of the funniest things he has ever seen in his life, watching me prance around like a gazelle and scream “Yes!” while double-pumping my fists in the air. I was oblivious to how ridiculous I looked at the time. In my mind, then and now, it was this break that truly got my career started. Even my first real on-air paying job at Global Saskatoon didn't carry the same weight that this volunteer reporter job carried. And having to compete with my fellow would-be sports broadcasters who were just as determined to break into the business and get started made it all the sweeter. I will always be grateful to Dana for choosing me to come report for him.

The job involved several different responsibilities. I would put together two- to three-minute reports for Dana's show
Sports Week Magazine
, which featured news about amateur sports around Toronto and Southern Ontario. I would also serve as the sideline reporter on live events that Rogers Cable was broadcasting, like Ontario women's university volleyball games and high school hoops tournaments.

I was generally stiff and awkward, and at one point during a live broadcast of a women's basketball game between York and Guelph universities I completely froze in what was very likely the single most embarrassing on-air moment of my life. I had never done live television before and simply wasn't prepared for it. I tried to memorize what I was going to say, which is
never
a good idea in a live TV situation. At one point when Dana threw over to me on the sideline I said something along the lines of: “Thanks, Dana. The Guelph women's team has been a formidle . . . a formidable squad throughout the first three weeks of women's basketball play . . . I . . . York
women's team is three and two coming in . . . I . . . the girls . . . good match . . . back to you.” And then I produced a look on my face that was somewhere between disappointment and shame.

Dana handled it beautifully and pretended that Craig Sager himself had just thrown it back to him: “Great stuff, Jay. Thanks very much!” Upon returning home, my very kind college roommates could not hide their embarrassment at what they had just seen on live television, which was then followed by merciless ridicule, all of which made me feel much better.

Over the course of the next twenty years or so, I ran into Dana randomly at various sporting events around Toronto. He was always in a great mood and super chatty, talking about some new project he was embarking on or some new job he was applying for. I just loved his good-natured personality. He was definitely a talker, perhaps sometimes a little too much. Ultimately, though, I've always appreciated that first big break he gave me and so I was always happy to see him.

That day on
The Social
, however, I had mixed feelings when I saw him in the audience.

“Any thoughts from our audience on Rob Ford's recent admission on live television that he did, in fact, smoke crack?”

Dana's hand shot up to the sky and a young producer chased after it.

“I have a few things to say,” began Dana.

I gripped the bottom of my chair tighter.
Please don't mention me, please don't mention me.

“First of all, I'd like to say congratulations to my good friend Jay Onrait on the publication of his book,
Anchorboy
. I think it's terrific and we go back a long way.” The other panel members all glanced my way and I jumped in with a quick reply.

“That's right. Dana McKiel, everybody! He gave me my first big
break in the business.” I looked around nervously, hoping this is where it would end.

But this was live television. And Dana McKiel was on a roll.

Before I could say “crack cocaine,” Dana had begun parrying back and forth with the panel, enthusiastically sharing his opinions on the day's big news.

Now, in all fairness to the guy, I know he was in the audience to support me. But Dana is a man who loves to talk, and despite his best intentions, his enthusiasm and television instincts won out that day. What began as a few quick one-liners rapidly developed into a full blown discussion about the man of the hour—Rob Ford.

I sat there slowly curling and twisting the copy of
Anchorboy
that was sitting in front of me, like I was wringing out a washcloth, all the while silently muttering to myself how this was supposed to be about me. Remember my book, guys?
Anchorboy
? I flew all the way from L.A. for this!

Finally, sensing the audience's growing disinterest—and my growing discomfort—Melissa stepped in. “Okay, sir. Well, thanks for your time but we have to take a commercial break. We'll be back with more
Social
after this.” It turns out they'd used up all the designated audience feedback time talking to Dana and now we were moving on to another segment.
Good grief.

Melissa and the other ladies began to chat amongst themselves, while the lead producer of the show approached our table with a disapproving young assistant by her side. I thought she would address the situation with Melissa, perhaps offer some guidance on how to deal with overly enthusiastic audience members who monopolize air time, but instead the producer looked right at me.

“Do you know that guy?” she asked.

Everyone on the panel—Melissa, Lainey, Cynthia, and Traci—turned toward me as I replied, “Yes. I know him.” I explained my
connection to Dana as quickly as I could. Time was of the essence here.