Jeopardy inevitably results in a loss for everyone

A nightmare I had the night before my episode of Jeopardy aired was the cause of my anxiety. In the dream, I was surrounded by high school friends who watched and laughed as I age, as I falter to hit the buzzer, as I answer wrongly.

The sound of their laughter chased me down the strange halls of my mind. My face was covered in sweat and I was freaking out when I awoke. However, my husband awoke excited. There will be a TV show tonight featuring you! That's amazing, isn't it?”. He meant amazing in the original sense, which is closer to frightening.

Between the time of taping and the airing of the episode, my memory of what had happened had become fuzzy. My husband and fellow contestants were the only ones who knew how I had done on Jeopardy due to its strict rules. The outcome was clear to me, but how I arrived there was a mystery to me. Seeing that my air date was approaching, I became more afraid of watching than playing.

The day passed without any emails from friends who live in markets where Jeopardy airs earlier than 7 p.m. We’d planned a watch party at a bar in south Pittsburgh, and by the time I arrived, two elevated, long tables were already full. As I sat uncomfortably in my too-tall chair, I felt as if I was a child.

The owner of the bar announced to everyone that I would be appearing on the show after turning 10 televisions to the right channel. Our guest tonight is an actual Jeopardy contestant. Are you going to win?” The man asked. It was hard to look mysterious without looking like I was about to vomit, so I shrugged.

There was cheering and clapping from strangers. It sounded like "whoo" when my friends made it. The screen showed my giant face - "Adriana Ram*rez, a writer from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania." I smiled or at least stretched my lips in an optimistic shape. There was only one way I could lose, and it would be a hard one.

Our culture values winning over anything else, as evidenced by trivia. In 1937, a book won the Pulitzer Prize for literature named Gone With the Wind. In 2000, the film American Beauty won the Best Picture Academy Award for Best Picture. And in 2022, the rich strike won the Kentucky Derby as a horse named Rich Strike.

In the absence of transcendent losses, the losers are too numerous and too obscure to recall. It is more than just a desire to prove that you know more than your friends and peers if millions of people play trivia-based games every single day. A fact, unlike wealth or privilege, can be obtained by anyone who wishes to acquire it.

It is not possible to acquire information based on language or lot. When I was a baby, my parents moved from Mexico to Texas; both are accomplished individuals who understand the importance of education. As a trivia player, I felt like I had a kind of power at my fingertips.

While riding in the car with my parents to San Antonio and across the border to Monterrey, I began playing trivia. Using a guidebook, my mother confirmed our answers to learn about the places we visited.

The Ramirez Family Trivia game was called Ramírez Family Trivia. It was a lot of fun for me. It was as much fun to learn random facts as it was to win. Although trivia technically means "unimportant information," some facts are important in certain situations.

During my naturalization test at age 12, I was asked 10 questions regarding American history and government. While driving to Washington, D.C., I played Ramirez Family Trivia for hours, which prepared me more than reading a study guide. There was nothing trivial about that.

Throughout my life, I've kept up my trivia habit, captaining my high-school quiz team, dominating strangers at pub trivia nights in my 20s, and competing in an online league championship.

In last year's season of Jeopardy, my husband persuaded me to participate with him. After making it to the second stage of auditions, he plans on trying again soon. Despite making it to the second and third rounds, I didn't think I had a chance.

Upon receiving the phone call that I had been selected to appear on the show this past February, I stood in my kitchen, trying my best to sound human as my legs and arms trembled. Two goals became clear to me after I hung up the phone: avoid embarrassment on national television, and do my best.

Nevertheless, competing on Jeopardy isn't the same as outwitting people down the street. There were no differences between me and the contestants on my episode except they were better practiced, more driven to win, and - as I found out - faster under stress.

There is no doubt that Jeopardy is a meritocracy. A practice game on Zoom and two online tests are the only requirements to make it onto the show. The only way to pass is to answer arbitrary clues correctly and quickly.

The producers told us at our March taping that more than 100,000 people had taken the initial online test in 2021. It's estimated that 400 contestants compete on Jeopardy every year, meaning 99.6 percent of last year's participants didn't make it to the Alex Trebek Studio. Ninety-six percent of Harvard's applicants were rejected that year.

There is only so much you can know through reading and memorizing facts. This is one of the core tenets of trivia. In preparation for the competition, I spent weeks listening to classical music, assuming that operas and composers might come up. They both didn't.

In the middle of my watch party, my nerves took over and I started pacing the bar. After watching my competitors buzz in repeatedly for a minor eternity, I wondered if I had ever responded.

After a clue about literary bears, the host, Mayim Bialik, said "Adriana.". In front of the mirror, I watched myself answer the question Who is Paddington? The wrong way. My friends murmured in sympathy.

Another contestant introduced himself, “Who is Gentle Ben?” Sympathy murmured among my friends. The bar cheered whenever I buzzed in on the television. Real Me received approving looks and big smiles the eight times Television Me answered correctly. Beer was bought for me by someone. Relaxation set in.

By the rules, Television Me sat out Final Jeopardy after winning Jeopardy and Double Jeopardy. Whenever Television Me saw a wager, she wished she could write it down and answer it.

On the screen, the clue flashed. A 1961 Oscar-winning song by Johnny Mercer begins with the line, "I'm Holly." What is it?” A bar owner asked me a question. My head nodded in agreement. A woman asks, “What does 'Moon River' mean?” “That's great!”

There was a lot of support on the Jeopardy-contestant text thread. Even though Ryan Long won all five episodes filmed that day, he did not rub his greatness on us. The majority of our conversation was devoted to complimenting one another's wit and mourning our losses.

Everyone loses at Jeopardy eventually, and that's the way it goes. On national television, even Long had to take an L after a 16-game winning streak. The loss is not shameful, as I realized when watching myself on TV.

Those memories flooded my mind that night at the bar. When I was a kid, I struggled to name rivers and scientists. Tears were shed at getting something wrong, delight was felt at finally understanding the answer, and giggles were heard when my parents couldn't answer one of my questions. It was all part of the fun.

Glory, money, and fame are too important to us. Despite the loss, there is always a positive story to be told. How do you handle losing, getting up, and moving on? Nothing is more human, or badass than this.

In the first place, we play for the sheer enjoyment of it. It would have been impossible to believe that I would one day be on Jeopardy if you had told me as a girl.

Losing wouldn't have bothered me at all. I expected that I would be crushed with embarrassment when the episode ended. There wasn't a hint of it at all. It's not that I don't have regrets. In the future, I won't confuse Paddington with Gentle Ben. Nonetheless, I emerged from the experience stronger and humbler.

Upon returning from the bar that night, my husband was beaming with pride. Scrolling through my messages, I looked at them. Social media was flooded with posts about my appearance from people I hadn't spoken to in a decade. An old Yahoo address was used by friends of my childhood, asking, “Is that you?”. No one cared about my loss. Many people were simply impressed. Jeopardy had featured me, a person they knew.

My loss on national television brought almost 10 million viewers together, and I've never felt more loved. A producer once called Jeopardy "a good trauma," and the phrase stuck with me. In my opinion, the phrase should have been rephrased as "an amazing trauma." To the fullest extent of the word.

Source: NEWSBREAK