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The Mag's Andy Latack sat in on a taping of the new game show, ESPN's 2-Minute Drill. He learned that a New York studio audience may not be the proper place for rabid sports fans. Sam from Jersey knew the rules. Before the show, a production assistant recited them very clearly: Be quiet when we tell you to. Stay in your seats. No yelling out the answers. We all nodded dutifully at the time—even Sam. Most of us had to master these skills to pass first grade. And now, as members of the studio audience, we were ready for the taping of ESPN's 2-Minute Drill. Unfortunately, the crew was not. So Q—the production assistant—had to drag us through an audience participation exercise where we tried to stump him with sitcom theme songs. This is when we heard Sam from Jersey sing the tune to Growing Pains. Sam was in mid-chorus when Q cut him off, hurrying to introduce the arriving panelists: Juwan Howard, Jason Sehorn, Rich Eisen and Mike Golic (Q pronounced it "Gall-ic," which was met by a groan from the audience). "It means a lot to us that you're here," host Kenny Mayne said wryly upon entering the studio, sarcasm dripping off the microphone and pooling at his feet. "Thank you so much for coming." Once the cameras started rolling, Sam (who was sitting right next to me) lost sight of the most critical audience guideline. He started audibly playing along, answering questions with increasing volume and inaccuracy. I looked around nervously, sure that Sam would get us all booted from the set and forever blacklisted in the studio audience world. I still plan on seeing Jerry Springer at some point, and I'm not giving that up for this guy. As Sam continued to jeopardize the integrity of the game, the other audience members around me sat paralyzed. This was the contestants' family section, and they had even stricter guidelines: No acknowledging loved ones, lest it be interpreted as some sort of signal. So they sat, white-faced and white-knuckled, casting annoyed glances in Sam's direction. Oh, but there was plenty of audience participation once the cameras stopped rolling. Panelist Bill Clement played to the crowd between shows, breathing some life into Q's tired sitcom-song bit. The ESPN hockey analyst sang a few tunes, then held court. When someone in the crowd mentioned Soul Train, Clement broke into an impromptu Don Cornelius impersonation: "Baby, I've seen love, and I've had love, and I've been loved..." I lost it. Even the contestants, preparing for their own two-minute drill after being secluded in the studio's Green Room all day, managed a laugh at Bill's soulful rendition. In a few minutes, one of them would advance to the semifinals (I can't tell you what happened or ESPN would have to kill me—the shows don't air until November). The losers tried to make the most of it. "You were really cool under pressure up there," Eisen offered to one guy who just missed the cut. "You looked good." "Thanks," the former contestant replied, eyeing the anchor and apparently seeking more than the ESPN blanket he would receive as a parting gift. "So, you guys hiring?"
Andy Latack is much, much more than a production assistant at ESPNMAG.com. And, thanks to Q, he can now sing the theme to The Jeffersons. |
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