Shakespeare betrayed me on Jeopardy
The six kids bent their heads together, their classroom chairs drawn together in a circle. Urgent whispers escaped their huddle: "No, not the Dali Lama book! It's the China book!" A consensus emerged, then their speaker stood, collected himself a moment, then assuredly intoned, "Dancing To Freedom: The True Story of Mao's Last Dancer, by Li Cunxin." The moderator beamed. "Correct!"
This particular Battle of the Books was hard fought, ending in a tie between two elementary school teams. After ten "battles," my son's team emerged in the top half of the competition, proud of their placement and richer for the exposure to a wide range of literature in the thirty contest titles. (Bravo to Edward Bain School of Language and Art for repeating as champions!)
I wish we'd had BOB when I was a kid; it would have further justified my many hours on the rug between the living room curtains and the love seat where no one could see, devouring every book in reach: biography, history, science, joke books, sci-fi, and compendia of weird facts such as the Guiness Book Of World Records. It's why I appreciated the BOB book list: my son brought books into our house which he might not have sought out on his own. For example, "Ain't Nothin' But A Man: My Quest To Find The Real John Henry " was less about the song than about the process of academic inquiry practiced by historians. Dull? Hardly -- it reads like a mystery story, and deeply engaged the kids.
This kind of assimilated understanding stays with you long after the facts themselves. Not that raw facts themselves aren't valuable. I'm jealous of A.J. Jacobs, author of "The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest To Become The Smartest Man In The World" by reading the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica in one year. Hilarious! Even lacking that single-mindedness, I managed through the years to amass such a mishmosh of general knowledge that I felt equipped to endure the crucible of America's favorite intellectual challenge: in 2000, I appeared as a contestant on Jeopardy!
Three important lessons. First: unless you win, you will always be haunted by Weird Al Yankovic's parody, "I Lost On Jeopardy." Always. Second: really, really, really, don't worry about drama, just answer the darn question. And third, most importantly: know that your strongest suit will lead to your downfall. Proof follows.
You can't cram 38 years of general knowledge into the last 16 days between "the call" and the show. All that really matters is that you bet smart and buzz often, a strategy that was mostly effective in my first round. Categories were pretty general, two different word-play columns, and I did pretty well, trading the lead several times before the first break. Then Bing! Bing! Bing! I hit a Daily Double, category "Witchcraft." I'd already scored the first three questions in the column. A big bet could capture the lead. "I'll bet $900, Alex."
The answer came up: "Shakespeare may have written this 1606 play in part to appeal to King James I's interest in witchcraft." Any old English major worth his salt would smile at that, right? But, here, friends, is the difference between playing at home and playing for real. I was a little hazy on dates, and my limited review in previous days had churned up thoughts of Prospero and Caliban. It seemed a little early for this play, but the only thing that came to mind was... "What is - 'The Tempest.'"
"Oh, no, I'm sorry. 'Macbeth,'" said Trebek, a little condescendingly. "The three witches.” Well, duh. Blowing an easy one meant I now trailed by $1500. Still, a few high-stakes questions later, the gap had narrowed, and I even took the lead a few times in Double Jeopardy. Still, a hot streak for the current champ left me trailing $7600 to $6100 going into Final Jeopardy, with Player Three out of it.
How do you bet? Game theory suggests that when you have 2/3 of the leader's score, you should bet zero, because it leads to more winning outcomes. The leader has to bet to win, and the leader must assume that second place will bet everything. If the leader gets it right, the game is over, and my bet doesn't matter. However, if the leader is wrong, and I'm wrong, I still win the game with a zero bet.
I went for it. "In May 2000, a Sherpa named Babu Chhiri set a new record for this, doing it in 16 days, 9 hours. Good luck." The lights dimmed, the thoughtful glow shone around us, and the famous music began to play. Think! Think! How many answers would involve a Sherpa? My sweet wife's parting words as I left home had been, "If it's about Mt. Everest, the answer is Babu Chhiri." Honest. So even though "Climbing Mt. Everest" seemed right, I wanted my zero bet to look smart. No answer, nothing risked, that's a good move, right? More dramatic. Good TV. I left it blank.
"Let's see, Brian, you answered... nothing. Hmm. And how much did you wager? Nothing, leaving you with $6100. Let's move to our defending champion. He responded, 'What is climbing Mt Everest?' Correct. His wager -- $4401, taking him to $12,201, and he will return again!" That's the scenario that game theory can't beat: the leader getting it right, and betting to beat my doubled score. Ultimately, then, my game was lost on the Daily Double, on a question in my strongest category. And what do people remember today? That I gave no answer in Final Jeopardy, which made me look like an idiot. Dang. "I lost on Jeopardy, baby... hooo-hooo-hooo."
Think you could have done better? Play the same game board: http://bit.ly/jeopardybrian
This particular Battle of the Books was hard fought, ending in a tie between two elementary school teams. After ten "battles," my son's team emerged in the top half of the competition, proud of their placement and richer for the exposure to a wide range of literature in the thirty contest titles. (Bravo to Edward Bain School of Language and Art for repeating as champions!)
I wish we'd had BOB when I was a kid; it would have further justified my many hours on the rug between the living room curtains and the love seat where no one could see, devouring every book in reach: biography, history, science, joke books, sci-fi, and compendia of weird facts such as the Guiness Book Of World Records. It's why I appreciated the BOB book list: my son brought books into our house which he might not have sought out on his own. For example, "Ain't Nothin' But A Man: My Quest To Find The Real John Henry " was less about the song than about the process of academic inquiry practiced by historians. Dull? Hardly -- it reads like a mystery story, and deeply engaged the kids.
This kind of assimilated understanding stays with you long after the facts themselves. Not that raw facts themselves aren't valuable. I'm jealous of A.J. Jacobs, author of "The Know-It-All: One Man's Humble Quest To Become The Smartest Man In The World" by reading the entire Encyclopedia Brittanica in one year. Hilarious! Even lacking that single-mindedness, I managed through the years to amass such a mishmosh of general knowledge that I felt equipped to endure the crucible of America's favorite intellectual challenge: in 2000, I appeared as a contestant on Jeopardy!
Three important lessons. First: unless you win, you will always be haunted by Weird Al Yankovic's parody, "I Lost On Jeopardy." Always. Second: really, really, really, don't worry about drama, just answer the darn question. And third, most importantly: know that your strongest suit will lead to your downfall. Proof follows.
You can't cram 38 years of general knowledge into the last 16 days between "the call" and the show. All that really matters is that you bet smart and buzz often, a strategy that was mostly effective in my first round. Categories were pretty general, two different word-play columns, and I did pretty well, trading the lead several times before the first break. Then Bing! Bing! Bing! I hit a Daily Double, category "Witchcraft." I'd already scored the first three questions in the column. A big bet could capture the lead. "I'll bet $900, Alex."
The answer came up: "Shakespeare may have written this 1606 play in part to appeal to King James I's interest in witchcraft." Any old English major worth his salt would smile at that, right? But, here, friends, is the difference between playing at home and playing for real. I was a little hazy on dates, and my limited review in previous days had churned up thoughts of Prospero and Caliban. It seemed a little early for this play, but the only thing that came to mind was... "What is - 'The Tempest.'"
"Oh, no, I'm sorry. 'Macbeth,'" said Trebek, a little condescendingly. "The three witches.” Well, duh. Blowing an easy one meant I now trailed by $1500. Still, a few high-stakes questions later, the gap had narrowed, and I even took the lead a few times in Double Jeopardy. Still, a hot streak for the current champ left me trailing $7600 to $6100 going into Final Jeopardy, with Player Three out of it.
How do you bet? Game theory suggests that when you have 2/3 of the leader's score, you should bet zero, because it leads to more winning outcomes. The leader has to bet to win, and the leader must assume that second place will bet everything. If the leader gets it right, the game is over, and my bet doesn't matter. However, if the leader is wrong, and I'm wrong, I still win the game with a zero bet.
I went for it. "In May 2000, a Sherpa named Babu Chhiri set a new record for this, doing it in 16 days, 9 hours. Good luck." The lights dimmed, the thoughtful glow shone around us, and the famous music began to play. Think! Think! How many answers would involve a Sherpa? My sweet wife's parting words as I left home had been, "If it's about Mt. Everest, the answer is Babu Chhiri." Honest. So even though "Climbing Mt. Everest" seemed right, I wanted my zero bet to look smart. No answer, nothing risked, that's a good move, right? More dramatic. Good TV. I left it blank.
"Let's see, Brian, you answered... nothing. Hmm. And how much did you wager? Nothing, leaving you with $6100. Let's move to our defending champion. He responded, 'What is climbing Mt Everest?' Correct. His wager -- $4401, taking him to $12,201, and he will return again!" That's the scenario that game theory can't beat: the leader getting it right, and betting to beat my doubled score. Ultimately, then, my game was lost on the Daily Double, on a question in my strongest category. And what do people remember today? That I gave no answer in Final Jeopardy, which made me look like an idiot. Dang. "I lost on Jeopardy, baby... hooo-hooo-hooo."
Think you could have done better? Play the same game board: http://bit.ly/jeopardybrian