On Pursuing Glory

An occasional loss can be ennobling. Chronic loss can be crippling. Right now I'm somewhere in the middle and the trend ain't good.

No, I'm not talking about my recent descent in choosing worthy topics to blog about (Mark Dayton, Brian Lambert, the City Pages). I'm talking about much more serious matters. Trivia, to be precise.

Keegan’s, a classy Irish bar on the fringes of nordeast Minneapolis, hosts a Tuesday night trivia challenge. By happenstance a few months back I found myself there with a fellow Fraters Libertarian, and we commenced to clean house. (And then we put our brooms away, sat down, and played some trivia.)

Actually, we came in second. But given the sophisticated level of the questions (think NTN times 10), the non-multiple choice style of questioning (delivered in mic-wielding, Socratic fashion by the bar owner), the stiff level of competition, and the stiffer nature of the bar pour, it felt like victory. More to the point, it felt like victory because we got the same prize as those who came in first--a free drink.

Of course, I considered the future attainment of first place a mere formality. Pay a little more attention, spend a little less time monitoring the Twins game on the TV, slow the booze's neurological numbing affect by nursing my black-and-tans a little more, and stop shouting down teammates who doubt my knowledge of sub-Saharan African geography, and victory would surely follow. Or so I thought.

How painfully wrong I was. Despite our best efforts, in four subsequent attempts at Keegan's trivia not a single free drink was earned. Our scores have flattened out to 16 out of 25 questions correct, which gets you nothing more than third place (at best), a pitying yet empathetic look from the owner's pretty wife when she hands back your scorecard, and the torturous realization that your public school education has placed yet another insurmountable obstacle in your path.

But over time this pain does go away, usually by the time the next round of drinks arrives. What doesn't go away so easily are the nagging suspicions that perhaps we ain't really as dumb as we look. Yes, we only get 16 out of 25 correct and that fact is not in dispute. Objectively speaking, it is what it is. But it's the relative measurement that bothers me. Are there really at least two other teams better than we?

I will concede perhaps there is one. A group of four men whose age, appearance, and personal hygiene lead me to believe they are either tenured college professors or the smartest group homeless guys on University Avenue (cosmetically speaking, the difference is negligible). During the game they caustically laugh and knowingly nod, meaning either they know the answers or are very self-satisfied in their selection of seasoned curly fries over the waffle cut potato wedges to accompany their fish sandwiches.

However, they have yet to actually win a match, since another team is consistently announced as bringing home the free booze. Week after week, this same team wins. According to sources, this team is composed of various generations of one family. A family related to our very own Atomizer.

I don't want to start a firestorm of controversy here, but since my sacred honor and reputation as a guy who knows a lot of useless facts is at stake, I feel compelled to publicly present my evidence that maybe they're not the knowledge juggernaut they comport themselves to be.

This is from an email I circulated to interested parties last week.

The Emperor has no clothes. Plus, the Atomizers' trivia prowess at Keegans ain't all it's cracked up to be. Yes, they're smart people. But something smells rotten (besides those college professors in the corner). I'm not necessarily accusing anyone of putting the fix on the game. But the appearance of impropriety is, well, apparent.

It's clear the Keegans know the Atomizers well. After announcing their inevitable victories, the two families socialize with each other--laughing it up for 30 minutes after the game. To me and the rest of the losers in the bar, it looks unseemly.

Is it reasonable to suspect that given their relationship, perhaps Keegan is gearing many of the questions to the known knowledge set of his good pals the Atomizers (maybe subconsciously, maybe not) ? Is this why we get a half dozen questions on fey English poetry and not one about 80's TV, just to mix it up a bit? (Not that I'd necessarily feel good about winning the contest because I know what the initials ALF stand for, but still.)

As I said, it's not an intentional fixing I'm worried about, rather it's the intrinsic, institutional bias that haunts my every waking hour.

Also, the presence of repeat questions is profoundly disturbing. The last two weeks I've heard questions already asked in previous weeks. Since the Atomizers are there all the time and have been holding court since the day the place opened, it wouldn't surprise me if they already heard 20 of the 25 questions in advance.

I cannot remain silent on these matters any longer, since the half-baked, circumstantial evidence of malfeasance has reached a critical mass. Please respond with all haste, as the credibility of big league trivia in the Twin Cities hangs in the balance.

Anyone out there with further information on these matters is encouraged to contact the relevant authorities. And soon. Tuesday rapidly approaches, yet there's still a chance for justice.