Greatness stinks at the Air Guitar Championships
Posted: Monday, August 20, 2007 12:25 PM by Willie Geist
Filed Under:
Story of the day
Before I became the trusted newsman that I am today, I worked in sports television. I covered The Super Bowl, The NCAA Final Four, and The Masters, among others. At the time, I considered those major events. Now that I’ve been to The United States Air Guitar Finals, I know better. You have never seen, heard or smelled a spectacle quite like this one.
I was sent on assignment by “Countdown with Keith Olbermann” to The Fillmore theater in New York City (David Gregory and Andrea Mitchell must have had the day off).
Video: Air Guitar Championships
I spent the night there with people who have names like “Ricky Stinkfingers,” “Bjorn Turoque” (pronounced “born to rock”), “The Rockness Monster”, and “Shred Nugent.” Fifteen of this country’s finest air guitarists gathered under one roof to compete for the right to represent the United States at The World Air Guitar Championships in Finland next month. The collection of talent was awesome, even to this seasoned journalist. Walking into the dressing room at The Air Guitar Finals was like walking into The Dream Team’s locker room at the 1992 Summer Olympics in Barcelona: everywhere you turn, another legend.
The smell of greatness
When I entered that dressing room before the show, I was hit immediately with the smell of greatness. Greatness, as it turns out, smells a lot like spilled beer, cold pizza and B.O. Actually, greatness stinks. My interview with air guitar legend and star of the documentary “Air Guitar Nation” Bjorn Turoque was interrupted by a performer known as “Chuck Mung.” Chuck didn’t say anything to interrupt us, he just smelled so inhumanly bad, that we had to stop our conversation and move away. A roadie was sent out for a bottle of Febreeze and was instructed to douse Chuck with it. I’m not kidding. When we asked about the nature of the smell, Chuck explained that he’d been hitchhiking around Ukraine for the past two weeks and hadn’t had a chance to take a shower. Can you imagine being the lottery-loser who sat next to Chuck Mung on the 12-hour flight back from Kiev? Later in the night, Chuck would smash a guitar on stage and tell one of the judges to do something to himself that’s so complicated, I’m not even sure it’s physically possible. Spoiler alert: Chuck didn’t win.
I must confess that I was distracted as I interviewed the competitors before the show, and not just by the unspeakable body odor. As “Derek Not-So-Smalls” talked about the importance of bringing the title back to The United States and as defending champ “Hot Lixx Hulahan” told me about the secret to achieving the elusive quality of “airness” (they say it’s like pornography: you know it when you see it), I couldn’t help but wonder when “William Ocean” would walk through the door.
The hometown favorite
Ocean is the New York City representative at The Finals, and a hometown favorite to say the least. Ocean’s legions of supporters, called “Wave Riders,” filled the place as soon as the doors opened. Men and women alike were dressed in t-shirts and headbands that screamed, “Ride The Wave!”. There was a life-sized cutout of Ocean being passed around the crowd. Chants of “Ocean! Ocean! Ocean!” echoed through the storied New York theater. When asked before the competition about the support he’d have in the audience, Ocean said, “The crowd will be like the Earth’s surface: 70 percent Ocean, 30 percent non-Ocean.” Classic Ocean.
That support was not enough last year, though. Ocean lost to Hot Lixx Hulahan in a controversial scoring decision that left Ocean with a bitter taste in his mouth. As Hot Lixx boarded a plane bound for Finland and untold international fame, Ocean returned to square one. When I finally caught up with Ocean, I could see he was a man who clearly had come to The Fillmore on business. Many of the other competitors just appeared happy to be in New York. Not Ocean. He’d been here before. Actually, he lives here. Nothing short of a round-trip ticket to Helsinki would satisfy him.
But the task would not be easy. More than one person I talked to said this year’s field was the toughest and most talented ever (the talent involved in air guitaring remained unclear at press time). Ocean would have to impress a panel of judges that included Rachel Dratch of SNL fame, Jason Jones of “The Daily Show” and author Malcolm Gladwell. Yeah, Malcolm Gladwell. The deep-thinker who wrote the books “The Tipping Point” and “Blink” was a judge at the U.S. Air Guitar Finals. Here’s the verbatim text of my first question to Mr. Gladwell: “What the hell are you doing here?” It turns out he’s an old friend of Bjorn Turoque. Long story.
So would William Ocean finally overcome Hot Lixx Hulahan, and indeed his own demons? Would a cruel year of staring at a silver medal drive Ocean to win gold this time around? Or is he merely destined, like Barry Bonds, Dan Marino, and Charles Barkley before him, to be an all-time great who never reached the ultimate prize? Click here to find out.
