Fifteen Seconds

I never got my TV interview, which was perfectly fine with me, because as they say, I have a face made for radio. I did, however, get my fifteen seconds of fame on two separate occasions: at the Spurs game in San Antonio and again when my beloved Mavs lost to the Lakers last week. As much as I would have loved to see my Mavs to victory, I was much more excited to see Dirk score his 20,000th point, as it served a dual purpose: 1) it allowed me to be present as my all-time favorite athlete achieved another monumental milestone that will someday help land him in the Hall of Fame; and 2) it kept me from being on TV during the postgame show, as the focus was primarily on Dirk.

Before my experiences as the HP Insider even started, I spoke with several different PR people whose job it was to prepare me for any media exposure I might have, be it radio, live TV, or print interviews. The thought of being in front of a camera or asked to speak in front of a group of people terrifies me beyond belief. Radio or newspaper stories would have been fine, because there would still be some degree of anonymity, and if I did or said something ridiculous, it could easily be edited or eliminated in its entirety. After several conference calls, which even included mock interviews, I cannot express how relieved I was to have escaped this adventure without having to try to put the tips and tricks I learned into action while appearing on television, even for a short interview.

They say we all have our fifteen minutes of fame at some point in our lives; for me, it was more like fifteen seconds, as my freckled face flashed across the screen during the Spurs game, and again during the Lakers broadcast. (The second time wasn’t too bad as my partner in crime, my dear old Dad, was right there beside me). When I returned home after the Spurs game, it was nearly 3am, and my four year old goddaughter climbed out of bed just to come tell me she saw me waving to her from San Antonio and I couldn’t help but grin. Within minutes of the end of the Lakers game, my best friend’s son called me, all excited, to tell me he saw me on TV as well. He also called me at 7am the next morning, still as excited as ever, that he now knew a “celebrity.” It may not be paparazzi and red carpets, but I’ll take the love and adulation of the kids that know and love me any day of the week.