Prisoner of Trebekistan: A Decade in Jeopardy! (44 page)

BOOK: Prisoner of Trebekistan: A Decade in Jeopardy!
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But the fourth clue, surprisingly, is a disorder I don’t know. I thought Connie and Marvin had encompassed them all.

 

 

 

AKA REGIONAL ENTERITIS, THIS DISEASE, A CHRONIC INFLAMMATION OF THE INTESTINES, BEARS THE NAME OF A U.S. DOCTOR

 

Frank buzzes in: “What is Crohn’s disease?” he responds.

Twenty years after the red bumps on her legs were first certified as “erythema nodosum,” no one has ever suggested Crohn’s as the major part of her illness.

It’s the disease, we will learn a year later, that she probably actually has.

Please throw this book across the room in frustration.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frank jumps us to
LATIN AMERICAN HISTORY.
His tone of voice says he considers it a strength.

It is. He reels off three quick responses, including the nation once ruled by Pedro II (“What is Brazil?”) and the first democratically elected Marxist in the western hemisphere (“Who was Salvador Allende?”).

The guy’s good. But I’m not giving in. The next two clues ask for the South American country once ruled by Alfredo Stroessner and the capital of the Aztec empire.

What’s Paraguay?

What’s Tenochtitlán?

I’m beating Frank on the buzzer, I am sure, by fractions of fractions. (On the tape it looks like only one frame.) I still want to think ahead in the remaining full categories, and there’s a good chance of a Daily Double at the bottom of
AUTOIMMUNE DISORDERS.
So I dive for the last clue in that category. There’s no Daily Double, but there’s this:

 

 

 

THE NAME OF THIS AUTOIMMUNE DISORDER MEANS “HARD SKIN”

 

Jane has grilled me on classic roots every night. “Hard” and “skin,” translated into Greek roots, would be
sclero
and
derma.
Without even thinking I blurt out:

What’s scleroderma?

The audience, strangely unaccustomed to hearing people blurt “Paraguay,” “Tenochtitlán” and “scleroderma”
bang-bang-bang
like this, audibly gasps.

I will tell Jane about this later, doing an audible-gasp dance. She will then gasp audibly in quotes.

But I also know Frank and Rachael will get their own gasps and applause by the end.

Alex takes us into the first commercial. I look up at the scoreboard. I’m up to $5800, more than twice the score of Frank and Rachael combined. I’ve made fifteen good buzzer decisions and—as always—let a third of the game go by without playing.

So far, so good. One quarter of the way home.

The only surprise is that I’m winning on the buzzer. And I’ve been lucky to land on a tailor-made category. The latter is over. And the former can’t last.

As the commercial begins, I look out at the theater, where the audience is still applauding on cue. Radio City is a stage like no other. I am seeing the obvious, detaching from outcome, enjoying the moment.

This lasts for perhaps five seconds. I let the sensation soak in.

Years later, here in Los Angeles, the walls of this coffee shop shake with the sound.

 

 

 

I start playing ahead in the categories left, pondering cakes, wax, and watercraft with all my might. Nothing comes whatsoever. Not one thought. I have nothing inside me but air. So I just try to relax as the chats start with Alex.

Frank is soft-spoken as always, self-deprecating, shy with his eyes. For the first time I see that what I’d always read as ferocity was just nerves and focus, perhaps magnified by sheer physical size.

Rachael seems playful and funny and bright, with the demure body language of someone too internally busy to notice how attractive she is. She’s here to win, after all, as she has done many times.

When my turn comes with Alex, I’m already thinking of the buzzer, trying to feel the rhythm in my body, hoping not to lose my timing. I burble out words that I hope will sound grateful.

That’s what I am most of all.

 

 

 

The second half of the first round begins.

Frank!

Rachael!

Rachael!

Rachael!

Frank!

Rachael!

Bob!

Rachael!

Rachael!

Rachael!

Bob!

Rachael!

Rachael!

Frank!

Frank!

Rachael and Frank get their own gasps now, too. So goes the rest of this round. I know as little in real time as I did playing ahead, letting half of the clues go untried.

Rachael is flawless. I can see how she won a Tournament of Champions. Not a single wrong guess. Not a single wrong buzz. When a difficult clue has a lateral hint, she’s the one who will think it through first.

Frank also makes not a single mistake. In the last clue of the round, the monitors display a black-and-white photo of a nondescript steamship. No markings, no flags, not one visual hint.

 

 

 

SEEN HERE, IT SHARES ITS NAME WITH A FRENCH REGION, AND BROKE THE TRANSATLANTIC SPEED RECORD IN 1935

 

There are a dozen French regions we’d all probably recognize—Brittany, Burgundy, Picardy, Champagne, all the other popular children’s names in Hollywood—so the only real hint is the query itself: What boat held one specific speed record seventy years ago?

“What’s the
Normandy
?” Frank replies nonchalantly. That’s not almanac data—and I’d know by now—and not a thing on a list in a textbook. Frank actually walks around
knowing
this stuff.

At the break, I’m still clinging to my pudu-sized lead, $7000 to $6000 to $4800. But Frank and Rachael are charging.

The token from Jane is still right by my buzzer. I remember the plan. Fifty-seven good decisions and just one Final Jeopardy. Just detach and relax, and fire the Weapon with care.

I have twenty-nine done. Not a single mistake. In the lead by $1000.

Just one round to go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Double Jeopardy categories are

 

  

 

THE NEW YORK TIMES ARTS & LEISURE
(Hmm…that’s pretty general.)

FROM THE GREEK
(Yes! Thank you, Jane!)

THE RENAISSANCE
(Not my best; I hope we get through this one early.)

MIDDLE NAMES
(This could be anyone, ever. Oh, dear.)

HOPE YOU LEARNED YOUR AFRICAN CAPITALS

 

  

 

Again, I say:
really?

 

  

 

HOPE YOU LEARNED YOUR AFRICAN CAPITALS

 

  

 

it says. And, um, yes. Yes I did. Every night, as a matter of fact. And finally:

 

  

 

PLACES TO PUT YOUR BIG WINNINGS

 

  

 

is the last category.

Frank jumps directly into the heart of
THE RENAISSANCE,
preferring to push his own strengths, hunting for a quick Daily Double.

 

 

 

DUE TO THE GREAT SCHISM OF 1378, POPE URBAN VI REMAINED IN ROME; RIVAL POPE CLEMENT VII MOVED TO THIS CITY

 

Of course Frank would know. “What’s Avignon?” he replies for $1200. But what he doesn’t know is that I know it, too. I’m
not
out of my league, I am starting to realize.

I belong here.

But Frank also gets Cesare Borgia and Jan Hus, the reformer, and Brunelleschi the Florentine architect. Passing Rachael in second place and me for the lead, he’s ahead by $3000 in seconds.

The audience cheers, which Frank fully deserves. He seems to be pulling away.

We dive into Greek. Pudu fights back against moose.

Bob!

Frank!

Rachael!

Frank!

Bob!

The $2000 clue here you’ve already seen. You may know it from just reading this book.

 

 

 

FROM GREEK FOR “TRIBE” OR “RACE” IT’S THE PRIMARY SUBDIVISION OF A TAXONOMIC KINGDOM

 

Remember “King Philip Glass Ordering his Family a Generous Special”? So what comes after “kingdom”? That’s all that this clue really asks.

If you remember “Philip,” then “phylum,” you’d have gotten it, too.

What’s a phylum?
I respond.

I am back in the game.

 

 

 

The
AFRICAN CAPITALS
come up next. I make a mistake on the first, confusing Kigali, Rwanda, with Kampala, Uganda.

That’s my one small mistake,
I think to myself.
Be glad it was small. Just relax.

But still distracted, I blank on Niamey, the capital of Niger, one gaffe living on in my head to make two. I am forced not to fire my Weapon.

Rachael and Frank, however, are not touching their buzzers. Neither of them, on the two easiest clues in the column.
They don’t know Africa,
I realize. So I relax and let the next three just come, as if sitting up late with Jane in Los Angeles. For perhaps the only time in any game I’ve ever played, the buzzer simply may not matter for the next three clues.
Slow down,
I tell myself. Ignoring the blah-blah, I see the following capitals:

N’Djamena.
What’s Chad?

Bujumbura.
What’s Burundi?

Bamako.
What’s Mali?

And I’m back in the lead. Six thousand people applaud.

Just three categories left.

MIDDLE NAMES.
I grab one. So does Frank. And then
Bweedwoo, Bweedwoo, Bweedwoo-dwoo-dwoo-dwah.
Frank gets the first Daily Double.

He goes big, betting $4000, which would give him a $3000 lead.

I hold my breath, helpless and hoping. He can still lose with a single mistake now, just like me. But I’m just watching and waiting, like you are right now.

 

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