“Down 0-and-2 In The Count, No Men On, And He… Bunts?”
If you follow me on Facebook, you know I’ve talked about this.
The local 4PM-to-6PM sports-talk radio show, The Drive With Bob & Jeff, have a segment at 5PM called ‘The Jive,’ a segment those two use to talk about anything and everything other than, and including, sports. It’s my favorite segment, as, other than Cowboys and Chiefs Football, I’m a casual fan to most sports.
I’ve called a few times and given my input on music, movies, and television, as I’m wont to do, but Bob Lutz drives the show; the answers have been quick, the conversations have been short, and Bob moves on to the next caller in short order, all the while berating his son and co-host, Jeff Lutz. It’s good radio; keep it succinct, quick, and provides the listeners with variety. Not a great segment to get my extended expertise in, but it’s been a foot in the door.
Bob was mentioning a need (want) of having a movie person on the show; someone with a background in cinema and film that could be a foil for a segment. I immediately knew what I had to do.
I went on the Twitter offensive, bombarding the hosts with my credentials. I recruited friends via Facebook to back me up on my Twitter crusade.
Then, I got this:
Shortly thereafter, I received a DM (Direct Message, for all you non-Twitter users) from Bob looking to get me on the show. We discussed a few details. He planned on getting with his producers and would get back to me.
That was two weeks ago. I reached out to Bob today and asked, serendipitously, where we were on that. He didn’t reply, as it was close to show time, and I imagine he has prep like any other job. When a man has two hours to fill, twenty minutes at a time, five days a week, getting relevant discussion topics together may take precedence over anything else an hour or two before the show each day.
I tuned in at 4:45 like I do every day and listened. If the two are leading up to a topic I know about, I will prep myself for a call, then try to fit it in on my drive home. At the very least, I have my Twitter app open to talk some junk, 140 characters at a time. As the clock hit 5PM, I got in my vehicle, turned the radio on, and prepared for ‘The Jive.’ I also remembered I had little to no gas in my vehicle, so I swung north to a QuickTrip.
Usually, I fuel up with the radio on and the vehicle door open. This time, for whatever reason, I didn’t. As I jumped back into my truck, I received a Facebook Message from my friend Patrick saying:
“Bob was griping to Jeff about not having anyone to talk movies too, Jeff reminded him about having you on.”
I jumped on Twitter, and asked what I missed.
So, leg shaking, I call the show. I jumped in right as they were going break, but at Jeff’s urging, Bob postponed to grab my call. This is where I black out from nerves. Pleasantries were exchanged, and conversation segwayed into discussion about the Melissa McCarthy movie ‘The Boss.’
Working at the Starlite Drive-In, I have the opportunity to see all the new movies as they come in. ‘The Boss’ looks hilarious, but it was on our ‘Adult’ side as the second of three movies. We try to have kid-friendly movies on one screen, and PG-13/R-rated films on the other. The weekend we had ‘The Boss’ in, it was the second film after the amazing, but long ‘Captain America: Civil War.’ Given that ‘Civil War’ is 2 hours, 27 minutes long, by the time the movie had finished, I had been at work for more five hours, working past midnight. As ‘The Boss’ didn’t start until a quarter after midnight, and I was tired by the end of the shift. ‘The Boss,’ funny as it looked, was going to have to wait until Netflix.
And here’s Bob, asking me, supposed movie fanatic and expert, about a movie I haven’t seen with an innumerably large audience on the other end of my words.
So, I scrambled. I made mention of loving McCarthy in most everything she does, and particularly enjoyed her in last year’s ‘Spy.’ Then, the hoity-toity movie critic I am, I throw out: “I don’t generally enjoy her slapstick stuff, though; I think she’s a better comedienne than that.”
A pause. It wasn’t pregnant, but it was checking ovulation cycles and taking fertility meds.
Bob, with a hint of disappointment in his otherwise melodic voice, utters “I kinda enjoy her slapstick.”
Dear Lord, what have I done? I’m disappointing the guy I want (need) to impress. In baseball, I’m in a bad spot, down 0-and-2 in the count.
I sacrifice-bunt; I offer up how great she was in ‘Gilmore Girls,’ a call-back joke to a discussion about Manhood and Man-Cards held on ‘The Jive’ one day last week. Bob chuckles (at least, I think it was a chuckle; I’m so on full-alert, worried I’ll get dismissed and hung up on at this point, I can’t feel my face), and offers up doing the segment right and that we’ll get together next week to do it. He said he’d reach out to me to set that up. I let him know next time I’ll be better prepared, rather than just winging it while driving down the highway. I thanked the two for their time. I said something about letting him get to his break.
Then I hung up and threw up a little in my mouth.
Metaphorically, of course.
Early in the call, Bob complimented my voice, saying it was great for radio, and I can’t wait to prove that going forward. If I was a little looser, I would have included the age-old joke with “So’s my face. Harharharhar.” I wasn’t loose, however. Total survival mode. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
I’m looking forward to being able to do my own little bit of show prep, and enrich the experience for everyone listening. It should be some time next week, and I’ll obviously update here as I know more. I’m totally looking forward to this.
And next time? I’ll have a puke bucket ready.
Metaphorically, of course.