So, I thought it would be fun to bring back Bob and Jim from my earlier sketch Basketball and Bullies… see how they’re doing in the world of novelty sportscasting. Last time it was third grade basketball, this time its fire, cornfields, and hammered, professional nerds. Oh, and by the way – yes, this really is what small town college professors do on the weekends. Don’t ask me how I know.
EXT. CORNFIELD – CENTRAL ILLINOIS – LATE EVENING.
ESPN sports announcers, BOB and JIM, sit at a plain, collapsible card table decorated with ESPN insignia. In the background, MIDDLE-AGED MEN vault over BONFIRES while spectators CHEER and HOWL.
BOB
Welcome, folks, to ESPN’s coverage of the fifteenth annual Professorial Bonfire Vaulting Competition live from the breathtakingly desolate cornfields of Bellflower, Illinois.
JIM
(bitterly)
The cornfields of Illinois! The cornfields of mother-flippin’, horse-humpin’, bible-thumpin’ Illinois!
Jim, hammered, laughs hysterically and pulls a Jack Daniels bottle and glass out from under the table. Bob sighs in frustration and yanks the bottle away from Jim.
BOB
We’re in the final round of what has become a fiery battle of speed, agility, and sheer courage.
JIM
(sarcastically)
Aaah, yes. An absolutely thriiilll-ingly intense battle. In first place (hiccup)...
CUT TO:
SFX LEADERBOARD GRAPHIC. Leaderboard FLAMES UP onto the screen listing the top five competitors.
JIM (O.S.) (CONT’D)
We have bonfire vaulting veteran and Physics professor, Steve Hunt. Professor of Sociology, Cat Huffington, follows in a close second. And rounding out the pack is Dr. Jim Daltry, Agricultural Science, in third.
CUT TO:
Announcer Table.
BOB
We should point out, Jim that, up until the last round, Craig Culp, who is now in fourth position, led the board with a solid 430 points. That is until a freak sandal accident caused Culp to take a nasty spill headfirst into the bonfire. Makes you want to rethink the Birkenstocks, right Jim?
JIM
(to himself)
Four years of college, two hundred thoouu-ssaands of dollars, fifteen years in broadcasting, and I’m here watching professional nerds jump over fires. What the hell has my life come to?
BOB
Well, if you wouldn’t have gotten caught with those pictures... and the ball-gag... and the handgun...
JIM
Bob, looks like they’re ready to start. Let’s go to the course.
BOB
For the final round...
CUT TO:
SFX BONFIRE COURSE GRAPHIC. As Bob describes the course, a crudely animated stick figure moves through each of the course obstacles ending with a jump over a bonfire and a celebration dance.
BOB (O.S.)
The jumpers will have to navigate a series of obstacles leading up to a final vault over a six-foot bonfire. Not an easy task. Even for inebriated college professors...
CRASH is heard off screen as Jim suddenly falls off his chair.
CUT TO:
Announcer Table.
BOB
Or color commentators.
JIM
(whispers; climbing back up on his chair)
I’m fine, I’m fine. Keep going.
BOB
(sighs and shakes his head)
Up next is five-time bonfire vaulting champion, Steve Hunt.
Bonfire course. Grabbing a beer off of the hydration table, Steve Hunt, a 38-year-old man-boy in glasses, collegiate sweatshirt, and baggy shorts, comes up to the mark. Hunt throws his head back and chugs the beer. He wipes his mouth and throws the can away.
BOB (O.S.)
A notorious trash-talker, some say Hunt’s bark is worse than his bite. But with five consecutive victories, it’s hard to argue that this man isn’t the world’s best competitive bonfire vaulter.
OFFICIAL
Jumper, ready.
HUNT
(to the crowd; in a Midwestern drawl)
Grab your books, Huffington...
Hunt hunkers down and focuses ahead.
OFFICIAL
Set.
HUNT
This doctor’s about to give you an education.
Starter PISTOL goes off.
HUNT
Yaaooooah!
Hunt tears off full speed as the camera follows him.
BOB (O.S.)
Well, Hunt is off to a surprisingly quick start coming up first to the survey collection zone.
As Hunt passes through the survey collection zone, sharp PENCILS launch point first from the sides along with a flurry of loose PAPER. Hunt covers his face as the pencils bounce off of him.
BOB (O.S.)
Hunt successfully deflects his research obligations. Now making his way over to the irate student carrels.
As Hunt comes upon the carrels, IRATE STUDENTS emerge holding up their papers.
STUDENT #1
Why did I get a D on this paper? I deserved an A.
STUDENT #2
Do we have to have a final exam?
Hunt biffs Student #2 in the face. Student #2 goes down.
BOB (O.S.)
Oh! Unexpected move from Hunt who is typically known for being able to take a lot of crap from his students. At this pace, Hunt can beat his own record...if he can successfully navigate his way through the tenure track.
Hunt comes upon the tenure track: a ten-foot length of quicksand. He runs into and through the quicksand but sinks deeper and slows as he makes his way in further.
BOB (O.S.)
Looks like Hunt’s having some trouble navigating himself through this quagmire.
Hunt screams in pain as he trudges through the quicksand.
HUNT
Why God?! Why?!
Hunt finally makes his way through the quicksand and pulls himself up onto solid ground. Exhausted, he continues toward the final bonfire jump.
BOB (O.S.)
Hunt lost a lot of time on the tenure track. Right now, the best he can hope for is to keep his lead.
Twenty feet from the bonfire, Hunt suddenly stops. He bends over to catch his breath and raises his hand in the air.
BOB (O.S.)
Uh oh. Hunt’s in trouble. He’s signaling for the official.
Official comes over, confers with him, and runs away.
BOB (O.S.)
Apparently that last leg took its toll. It may be all over for Hunt.
A GRADUATE STUDENT runs out and hands Hunt a forty-ouncer. Hunt chugs the beer and pours it all over his face. He lets out a raw, primal scream and sets himself up for his run.
BOB (O.S.)
Looks like we spoke too soon. Hunt has been revitalized. Amazing what a forty-ouncer of Natty Light can do. If he can make this jump successfully, he can guarantee himself a spot on that podium.
Hunt runs full force toward the bonfire.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, fully nude and inebriated, Jim streaks onto the course, slams into Hunt, and knocks him to the ground.
JIM
Kiss my forty share, ESPN!
Jim tears off into the cornfield. Hunt gets up and runs after him followed by a mob of irate drunken PROFESSORS, OFFICIALS, and CREW MEMBERS.
Announcer Table. Bob looks on as the group chases after Jim in the cornfield behind him. He shakes his head in disbelief.
BOB
Well, folks, it looks like the fire has died... (sighs) Controversy blazes here in Bellflower... ah, screw it.
Bob pulls the Jack Daniels bottle and glass out from under the table and pours himself a drink.
Followed by the mob, Jim screams as he runs back toward the announcer table. He trips and lands face down in the grass.
JIM
(muffled)
No more third grade basketball games. No more bonfires. No more doggie Olympics. This is the last time they make me do this shit, man! The last time!
Bob bitterly takes a sip of his drink.
BOB
Don’t worry. After this, I can pretty much guarantee this is last time they’ll ask you do anything.
BLACKOUT: