Stump the Sandalow

The pasta primavera I had before the show wasn’t sitting well. My tie felt tighter than it ever had. The lights on the set seemed brighter and hotter than before. If I didn’t get this right, I was screwed, and I knew it.

I needed to come up with somebody who had led the National League in stolen bases in the past 30 years. And quickly.

“Brian, we need an answer,” host Stuart Scott advised me.

What I said was “Willie McGee.” I was thinking, “Please God, don’t let me go out first in this show, the championship show. I’m the favorite. Neither of my opponents have stumped the Schwab twice. I’m the one the in-studio announcer called a ‘wunderkind.’ I should be the Season 4 champion.”

And if Willie McGee was right, I still had a chance.

There were only a couple other times I felt I was stumped during my three-show run on ESPN Classic’s “Stump the Schwab.” The object of the show is to defeat two other challengers for the right to face the Schwab in the final round. If one beats, or “stumps” the Schwab, he or she wins the game.

During my run, there were only a couple of times I felt completely, totally, clueless. I remember one of those times, because I somehow got the answer right.

It was my first appearance on the show, and the Schwab was getting desperate.

I was ahead 2-1 in the Schwab Showdown (the final round). The Schwab had two strikes. One more strike and he was out. One more strike, and a kid still a week from his 21st birthday had taken him down on his home turf. One more strike and ESPN’s first and only statistics researcher was beaten in a game of sports trivia. But, he thought he knew this punk kid’s weakness.

Women’s U.S. Open tennis.

I had refused to let him stick me with a question from that category. Of the four categories in the final round of that day’s show, that was the one I wanted to avoid. The other three categories presented that day were Zagnuts, on Gonzaga basketball, Card Sharks, on the St. Louis Cardinals and Super Sunday, on the Super Bowl. These were categories I thought I knew. Not the women’s U.S. Open, and certainly not a three-point, “Big Boy” question.

When it was his turn to give me a question, the Schwab, in all of his grace and fully aware he was taking a risk by giving me a three-pointer when there were lesser-value two-pointers available, snapped at host Stuart Scott, “Queens of Queens for three.”

When Scott read the question, “Steffi Graf appeared in the only two three-set U.S. Open finals in the 1990s. Who were the two women she beat?” I knew I had one option: Guess. Just take a flat-out, semi-educated guess.

I blurted out the first name that popped into my head. Monica Seles. Correct. The second person... whom could it be? Lindsay Davenport? Nah. Conchita Martinez? Probably not. Martina Hingis? Doubtful. Arantxa Sanchez-Vicario? Why not?

“Arantxa Sanchez-Vicario?” I timidly asked Scott.

“Correct.”

Holy Cow. Arantxa Sanchez freaking Vicario.

My dad called to tell me it was like a religious enlightening. After watching the airing of the show with me, my Missourian editor, Greg Bowers, shot me a look like I was from another planet. My sports geekdom had just gone up another notch.

Arantxa Sanchez-Vicario.

A few minutes later, I stumped the Schwab.

Howard Schwab did not like me.

I know this because he accused me of flipping him the bird. I wish it were true. It would add a lot more flavor to this story. But, it’s not true.

The day I taped my second appearance, to compete in the semifinals, one of the casting directors asked me, “Why did you flip off the Schwab?”

Umm, I didn’t.

Before the first show, another one of the casting directors had asked the other two contestants and me to do something fun or interesting when we were introduced to the audience off-air. Being a slightly dorky kid with little to no rhythm, I figured I would do something with limited movement. I raised my arms while yelling to the audience, “Let’s go,” and “I’m the man.” Looking back, I probably shouldn’t have said that.

What I did know was that I was nervous, the “Gee, I hope I don’t need a new pair of underwear” kind of nervous before I was introduced. Standing just a few feet behind me was the Schwab. Like a prizefighter moments before a big fight, the Schwab was skipping and hopping around the backstage area, occasionally throwing a few punches into the air.

I guess that’s when he thought I flipped him off.

But I didn’t.

Before my second appearance, I had one goal. Not to piss off the Schwab.

After coasting through the first two rounds of the show, I had my rematch. More importantly, I had a chance to add $5,000 to my winnings, which at that point stood at $3,000. I had also assured myself a spot in the championship show. So, technically, I didn’t have to beat the Schwab. For some reason, that was the first thing that entered my head when Scott asked me what I was thinking.

“Yeah, since I’m already in the championship show, this kinda feels like an exhibition,” I gleefully said.

“An exhibition?! Are you serious?” the Schwab asked me.

I had managed to piss him off again.

With only three-point questions available, both of us had the maximum six points. Two sports geeks at the top of their games. But, somehow, the Schwab stumbled, missing a question I knew, one I had hoped he’d pass to me.

After both of us answered our next questions correctly, I only needed to answer one question correctly to stump him again. The question, from a category about sports figures named Howie, was “Better known for coaching the Miami Hurricanes to the 1983 National Championship, Howard Schnellenberger coached this NFL team in the 1970’s.”

The first name that flashed into my head was the Baltimore Colts. And, for some reason I don’t even know, I went against my gut. I said the Cincinnati Bengals.

“Not a good guess,” Scott said. “The correct answer: the Baltimore Colts.”

Why the hell had I ignored my instinct? That’s where Arantxa Sanchez-Vicario came from.

Since we were tied at the end of the Showdown, we were headed to a tie-breaker. The question asked how many regular season games the Boston Celtics won during their eight consecutive championship seasons. Closest wins.

Wow. One question, one secret guess for $5,000. Just imagine needing to get one question right on a major test, only that your answer was a complete guess and was going to be broadcast to thousands of viewers. Meanwhile, an ultra-competitive man who didn’t like you was sitting across your desk, hoping you’d guess wrong. When the Schwab turned in his answer, I could tell he knew he was off. And he was. His guess was 369. Mine was 430. The correct answer was 460.

I got him. Again. And, I got $5,000.

The pasta primavera had stopped sitting well and had begun to quickly move up my esophagus. My tie seemed like it was getting tighter by the second. Combined, the tie and the pasta seemed like they were about to make me sick. This was it.

“Willie McGee is incorrect,” Scott told me.

And just like that, it was over. I was finished. Even worse, I was forced to sit on the set while something was being re-shot, forcing me to relive the moment I lost. It almost became the third time in my life I’ve cried for something other than a funeral. (The other two? The end of Rocky II and the night the Cubs lost the 2003 NLCS.)

But, I didn’t cry. I quickly remembered that I was $8,000 richer than I had been.

And of course, I’ll always remember Arantxa.

I still don’t know how I got that.