Matthew Osborne
Maybe after 20 years, it’s time I told this story one last time. Maybe it will help me let go of it and not be bitter about it. Maybe it’s stupid to drag such a ridiculous grudge into middle age. I’ll let you decide.
Growing up, I loved game shows. I dreamed of being a game show host even at a very young age. I had a little kiddie basketball hoop made for toddlers and it had a lever to pull to make a bell sound. I used this as my lever to simulate the spin on “The Joker’s Wild,” for anyone old enough to remember that show. Wink Martindale was an amazing host who I tried to emulate from my playpen.
I loved “Press Your Luck” and “Card Sharks,” but tops on my list was “The Price is Right” with Bob Barker.
It was easily the most fun and enthusiastic show, and it didn’t take genius-level intellect to play – just a working knowledge of groceries.
So in 2003, my college roommate Fred was kind enough to host me in Southern California and accompany me on this pipe dream to get on the show. But it’s not something you can just buy tickets for and go.
You see, the show wants a full audience with every seat filled, and I can’t stress that point enough to make this story make sense. It’s as important as remembering that Marley was dead to begin with.
We drove from the Valley to Hollywood in the wee hours of the morning only to find a line had already formed. Some folks slept out there to get their spot in line, and with two decades of hindsight to work with, perhaps I just wasn’t hardcore enough. But I knew Fred was not going to sleep on the sidewalk for a game show because, you know, common sense, so I tried to meet him a third of the way on this one.
We got through the first line over a two-hour period only to find out that all the passes were claimed. Now we were to be counted for the stand-by line, as the show was not going to take the chance that folks from the original pool would bail and leave them with empty seats.
We were numbered 62 and 63 in the stand-by group, and I remained astonished by the amount of people who actually woke up this early to get on this ridiculous show.
But I still dreamed of playing pricing games and having Bob ask me where I am from. He wouldn’t have had to, though, as my T-shirt clearly read “Lake City, Fla., SONNY BOY!” That’s a whole other inside joke for another time, but I was primed and ready.
Bring on the Check Game, and the Dice Game … and Plinko. It was my destiny to play Plinko. And the Showcase Showdown! I am the Kreskin of the Showcase Showdown.
But first, it was another line. We had a little break before the backups were asked to come back to the studio. When it was our time to return, we had spent our entire morning in this circular holding pattern.
A man came out to greet us with an arm full of badges, giving me a twinge of hope. Could we make it in after all?
As he called out numbers, many were greeted with crickets. He passed out badges to those lucky few who were chosen, and Fred started doing the math based on where we were and what the dude had left on his arm.
“You know,” Fred said, “this is going to be a close one. If you’re the last guy in, it’s OK, I will go see a movie or something.”
And so it seemed it may play out just that way, as the numbers called and remaining badges drew together like magnets toward No. 62.
The guy had two badges left, and he called 58, then 59, with the latter claiming the penultimate badge. Just one to go.
He called No. 60 and received no response. I held the card with my number on it out in front of me. This was it. I was going to be the last guy in the building and I was winning a trip to Hawaii.
He called No. 61, and there was a moment of silence as my heart stopped. I don’t remember if I was breathing while he was opening his mouth to call No. 62, but then, I heard an awful sound.
As I turned, a large woman was moving with speed that belied her physical stature, but I saw it all in slow motion, as if in a movie (this was Hollywood, after all). She then mouthed the words that trampled my dreams.
“I’ve got 61!” she shouted, arriving just in time to claim the final badge.
As they said in the old show “Get Smart,” I missed it by that much.
I did not watch The Price is Right at all for about 15 years after that. Too painful. When Drew Carey stepped in for Barker, I gave it a shot, but it wasn’t the same. And the memory remains.
But I watched it the other night, and I found myself having fun again. Maybe it’s time to finally move on.
I’m four years from 50, I am a blessed man with a beautiful family.
So what if I didn’t play Plinko? There’s no actual retail price on a life well lived.
Matthew Osborne is the editor of The Northeast Georgian. Reach him at 706-778-4215 or editor@TheNortheastGeorgian.com.