5:00 A.M: Wake up and gargle, vigorously. I have to make sure my tongue, teeth and uvula are ready to do their job, which is to say with equal amounts of gusto and charisma: “This is Jeopardy!” If my molars are not coated in salt and mineral water within thirty seconds of my awakening, my voice will crack and Alex Trebek will shame me.
5:01 A.M: Kiss my wife.
5:45 A.M: Eat breakfast, which is usually a soft-boiled egg, and listen to records of my best work. A car salesman from Akron, Ohio, Marty O’Sullivan (May 12, 1995). A law professor from Gainesville, Florida, Shirley Stevens (December 5, 2004). And, our returning champion, a graduate student from Seattle, Washington, Shayla Liu, whose two day cash winnings total thirty-thousand, eight-hundred-and-four dollars (April 1, 2011). I get goosebumps, predictably.
6:14 A.M: I sit in the den and look out of the window for three hours. I don’t have to get to work until 10, so I take time to contemplate my varied career as a nightclub performer, MC, game show host, and finally, voice of Jeopardy! I enter a state of complete tranquility and transcend this dimension.
9:20 A.M: I hiccup.
9:21 A.M: I worry about the hiccup and hope that it does not lead to more. Last time I got the hiccups (February 7, 1986), I had to drink a quart of olive oil and hang upside down from a pipe in the basement.
9:30 A.M: My chauffeur from Los Angeles, California, Danny Gold, whose annual salary is fifty-two-thousand, nine-hundred dollars, comes to pick me up. “Morning Johnny,” he says. I nod, and he understands that I cannot say a word outside of the Jeopardy! studio. He plays my favorite song (you know the one) again, and again, and again.
10:01 A.M: Arrive at the studio. My best friend, Alex Trebek, is waiting for me in the lobby. “You’re late,” he says. He is a man who is hard to please, but that’s all I aim to do. I know that I must give it my all today and hurry into my dressing room.
10:35 A.M: After putting on my good luck suit, I do my vocal warm-ups. Jeop-jeop-jeop-ardy. Cash winnings, cash winnings. Alex Tre-bek, Tre-bek Alex.
11:00 A.M: I’m brought to set and given my script. I’m particularly excited––there’s an Artist Assistant on the rundown. I love alliteration.
11:14 A.M: The music starts for the first game of the day. I say everything perfectly, fluidly, melodically. I make “Worcester” sound sharp and elegant, wise and profound. “And now here is the host of Jeopardy! Alex Trebek,” I say, as I watch my best friend glide onto stage like the magnificent presence he is. I look to his eyes for approval.
11:16 A.M: “Thank you, Johnny,” Alex says. I am relieved.
12:15 P.M: The music starts for the second game of the day. I cherish the opportunity to say “Karen Schaeffer-Reilly” once more. I never pay attention to the game play, but I can tell by her name that she will win four games. I am always right. When I first announced Ken Jennings, I knew that I would say that name exactly 73 more times.
12:16: P.M: “Thank you, Johnny,” Alex says. I do not believe he means it this time.
1:13 P.M: The music starts for the third game of the day. I inhale deeply, and say it: This is Jeopardy! This really is jeopardy. I’m in it every time I say it, always walking the fine line of perfection and disaster. My greatest fear is that one time, I will forget how to pronounce the word and get confused by the ‘o.’
1:15 P.M: “Thank you, Johnny,” Alex says. I am satisfied.
2:01 P.M: We break for lunch. I eat what my wife packed for me (a thermos full of broth, an overripe banana, chocolate pudding) and long for the day that Alex will invite me to sit with him.
3:14 P.M: The music starts for the fourth game of the day. I get cocky and over-enunciate the first syllable of “curator.” At least I say “optometrist” with finesse.
3:15 P.M: “Thank you, Johnny Gilbert,” Alex says. Oh no, I think, he only says my last name when I’m in trouble.
4:02 P.M: Karen Schaeffer-Reilly comes in third. I will miss her, and her multisyllabic name, and her glorious hometown (Montpelier) and her ever changing cash-winnings. I watch her as she walks off stage and she catches me staring. She smiles and mouths: Thank you, Johnny. She will never know how much that meant to me.
4:14 P.M: The music starts for the fifth and final game of the day. The new champion’s name––Dawn Smith––gives me no pleasure to say. It is okay, because she will lose soon enough.
5:03 P.M: Filming ends. Alex approaches my booth. “You did okay,” he said. “But there’s a reason I’m the face of Colonial Penn Life Insurance, and you’re not.” He is right. He’s always right and that is why I love him.
5:30 P.M: Danny picks me up. We drive in silence––except for the song (played over, and over…). He knows better than to ask me how my day was. I let my feelings of triumph and humility settle and my mind wander.
5:35 P.M: I wonder: Should I get life insurance?
6:02 P.M: At home, my wife and I eat mashed potatoes and stew on T.V. tables. We drink Manhattans as I tell her the names of every contestant from the day’s shoot.
7:00 P.M: We watch Wheel of Fortune.
7:30 P.M: Then Jeopardy! begins.
7:32 P.M: After Alex says “Johnny,” I turn off the T.V. and head upstairs. I change into pajamas, brush my teeth, and floss. I prepare my gargle for the next morning, when it will all start again. I measure the sea salt with a tablespoon. My wife rubs my shoulders as I measure the water. I almost pour too much, because I am preoccupied with the weight of my obligation.
8:01 P.M: My tensions are eased when I climb into bed and stare across the room at the plaque that proclaims my Guiness World Record for longest career as a game show announcer for a single show. I have not told my wife that when I die, I hope to be cryogenically frozen so that I may be a game show announcer for a single show for centuries more, but now is not the right time. She holds me and everything feels right.
8:15 P.M: I drift into sleep, and dream the dream I have every night where, in a moment of liberation, I step out of my booth and onto set, where Alex welcomes me with open arms. “Come, Johnny,” he says. “America and parts of Canada love your golden voice, but now they may see your cherubic face.” I turn to the studio audience and am met with cacophonous applause. “Thank you, Alex,” I say. “Thank you.”
Image via.