American Humiliation

Your Mayor would like to clarify a couple of things in the previous post. For one, I’m not dead. Yes, violence on the “American Gladiators”’ Pyramid was involved, but I was not attacked by Justice (had I been, I probably would be dead).

(The post before that, however, featuring excerpts from the legal waiver exonerating NBC from any responsibility should any journalist experience death or dismemberment, was completely true).

Here’s what really happened:

*

Assorted press were invited to interview “American Gladiators”’ co-hosts, Laila Ali and Hulk Hogan, as well as the new Gladiators themselves, before taking on the Gladiators (were you courageous/foolish enough to opt to) in the Pyramid and Joust combats.

Ali, who of course is the daughter of the boxing legend Muhammad Ali, said that she hadn’t yet had an opportunity to participate in any of the games, but that one she definitely did not want to try was the Pyramid: “That looks dangerous,” she explained.

Hogan offered this as the best way to survive the Pyramid: “Make sure you put your mouthpiece in and your helmet on. If they throw you down the Pyramid, don’t be flailing; stay tight. If (contestants) went down flailing, they’d hyperextend something.”

This was sounding less promising by the minute.

*

During their interviews, some of the Gladiators mentioned colleagues who frightened them. “Wolf’s just a mean bastard,” Siren offered helpfully. Militia (who, by the way, really is a former Marine who performed in Cirque du Soleil’s “Zoomanity;” at least that last entry got that much right) shuddered of Justice, “At six-six and 290 pounds, he just looks like he’s going to kill someone. Mayhem, noting Justice’s 7-foot wingspan, called him a “pteradactyl.”

Before the Cavalcade of Humiliation that would pit spindly, out-of-shape journalists against imposing specimens with chiseled physiques in the competitions, I asked Venom, “I’m doing the Pyramid later – any advice? Pray?”

“Pray,” she considered, then suggested, “be aggressive.”

I replied, “I was thinking of rolling into the fetal position.”

“That’ll work.”

*

The Pyramid is constructed of great chunks of spongy foam rubber, about 10 steps, each two and a half feet high. The Gladiator stands on the fifth step; the contestant must somehow get past the Gladiator and get to the top.

The first contestant worked for some TV outlet, so his performance was captured for YouTube immortality. He was pitted against Justice, that pterodactyl who looks like he’s going to kill somebody. Tentative at first, he then attempted to spring up the thing close to the wall. Justice folded himself around the guy then tossed him down the thing. At one point, the guy almost got past him; Justice clung to his shoe, ripping it from his foot, then caught up to him and, grabbing him by an arm and a leg, tossed him back down again.

I was up next. I turned to the publicist: “Can I get a girl?”

And, honest, I was joking, but the publicist made it so.

Instead of Justice, I was pitted against the actually more imposingly named Crush. (To ratchet up my mortification further, here’s a far less intimidating photo of Crush, but, in my defense, she is a Muay Thai boxer and a Mixed Martial Arts fighter with an undefeated record, while me, well, I watch TV for a living.)

I was outfitted with a helmet, a neck brace and elbow- and kneepads. Standing at the bottom of the Pyramid, I tried some strategy – not doing anything, in the hopes that she’d come after me and maybe I could sneak past her. That didn’t work, so I started my way up the Pyramid – which is so spongy that it’s extremely difficult to maintain one’s balance. After assorted juking and jiving, I tried to get past Crush, getting up to about the fifth step.

She grabbed me from behind, wrapped her legs around me and twisted, sending us both spiraling all the way down the Pyramid to its base, bouncing off each step along the way (the Pyramid’s sponginess may make it hard to traverse, but then, it makes tumbling down it a relatively painless experience). Tried it again; she tossed me down a couple of steps. She was behind me momentarily, so, sensing an opening, I lurched up a step. Crush was upon me immediately and, again grabbing me from behind, sent us both careening to the base. It was the most physical contact I had had ... no. I won't go there.

Time was up. I had been vanquished. Easily.

Before I had even caught my breath, Crush had already knocked a couple of guys off their perches in the Jousting competition.

But I can stand proud, knowing that I will go down in “American Gladiator” history as the first (and, no doubt, only) 46-year-old man who got his ass handed to him by a woman.