I was having the typical difficult conversation on the phone with my son, a senior at Reed College, me with questions, him with one-word responses:

“So,” I asked, “What else is new?”

“Ummm. Oh yeah, there is one thing.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm. I emailed my professors, asking to be excused from my classes. I told them I had an opportunity downtown that could benefit my future.”

“Oh really?” Wow, I thought, he’s got a job interview; I was surprised but pleased.

“Yeah, I rode my bike downtown,” he said, “and tried out for Wheel of Fortune.”  We both laughed, then I realized he was serious—he tried out for a TV game show. Oh well, I thought, he could win some cash, an exotic trip, maybe even a car. A week later, he emailed me and said he’d been selected!

I drove from San Francisco to Portland, Oregon to watch him on a college-themed edition of the show taped in front of a live audience of 2500 inside a vast arena. College bands marched down the aisles during commercial breaks, cheerleaders cheered, and there was a hyped-up crowd.

I was seated with the friends and family of contestants, about thirty-five rows from the set. The stage had the massive wheel that contestants spin and the lit-up squares where Vanna White turned the letters for the puzzles to be guessed. The host, Pat Sajak, stood on his own pedestal. I was so nervous for Zachary I was afraid that I might throw up. I remembered his fourth-grade Christmas play and his sixth-grade band performance; both times, he nearly fainted from the hot lights. So now I plotted out the route that I would take to rush up on stage and catch him at the slightest appearance of dizziness—as I had when he was a child.

I needn’t have worried. He was poised and funny. He won two of the three ‘spin rounds, ’ which meant that he got to go first when solving the puzzle. He solved all three of the word puzzles. He won $19,000 and a trip for two to the tropical island of Curacao. As the overall winner, he got to play the bonus round. They brought his friends and family up on stage, and Zach introduced us, “This is my girlfriend, Jess, and this is my mom.”  I waved to the camera and blew him a kiss. The bonus round began. Zach started by guessing two vowels and three consonants; after which he had ten seconds to solve the puzzle:  M A G I __    __ A  N D. I gasped, along with the audience, at how easy it was. Pat Sajak told everyone to be quiet, and the ten-second music started. Zachary started guessing.

“Magic Hand”

“No,” Pat said.

“Magic Band, Magic Land, Sand, Yand, Wand (buzzer) Magic Wand!”

Pat asked for an official ruling on whether Zachary guessed correctly before the buzzer. No. Vanna White grabbed her head with both hands.  

The game was over; he did not win the shiny new red Toyota Prius.  

“I’m so sorry,” Pat Sajak said. 

The band started playing, and the cheerleaders began cheering.

I took Zach and his friends out to dinner, ordered two bottles of Champagne, and toasted him. Everyone tried to make light of it, but he was embarrassed and disappointed.  

It got worse, though.

The episode aired nationally the day after Zachary graduated from college. As a resident assistant, he had to stay on campus until all the students were gone. I headed home, sad about leaving him alone to pack up his room. I called from the road about four hours later to see how he was doing. He told me that the last ten seconds of his Wheel episode was trending on the Internet. Gawker had picked it up.

“You’re kidding; I can’t believe it!” I said.

“I knew it was bad,” Zachary said. He didn’t want to talk.

That ten-second clip was among the most-viewed Internet videos by the following day. An article appeared in the New York Magazine Online edition entitled, This is Probably the Worst Wheel of Fortune Choke You’ll Ever See, with the tagline, “Pat Sajak lost the ability to speak. Vanna White nearly collapsed.”  Other sites were not so generous, with titles like Worst TV Fuck Up Ever. There were thousands of comments from all over the world. Some were actually pretty funny, but many were really mean and awful.

I called Zachary to see how he was doing. He was quiet, withdrawn, didn’t want to talk, in a word—humiliated.  

“Hon,” I said, “the only way to deal with this is to own it, turn it to your advantage.”  I continued to yammer on some mom things, but he wasn’t responding.

I worried about him and didn’t sleep at all that night. I wanted to step in and shield him from any pain. I knew, though, that this was his to deal with. I checked in with him later. Zach said the New York Magazine guy had invited him to reply—he was thinking about writing a response.

“Yes, do it!” I encouraged him, “This is a great platform.”

Not long after, a New York Magazine article appeared with the following title, Zach, of Wheel of Fortune, ‘Magic Wand’ Fame, has Zen Attitude about the Whole Thing. Zach acknowledged that the last ten seconds were so painful to watch that it was humorous and that he wasn’t too worried about the comments on the Internet because he was planning his trip to Curacao.  

I raised my kids to try new things and take chances. I momentarily lost my confidence in Zach’s ability to deal with a feeling of failure. I needn’t have. I realized that my kids can handle whatever comes their way. So, when my youngest son graduated from college and went to South Africa for a year, I was only awake worrying about him for an hour every night instead of two.  

Post Script:  A year after the Wheel of Fortune debacle, the Ellen DeGeneres show invited Zach to appear on a special episode for “Epic Wheel Failures.”  He walked away with a big-screen TV.