9401070042
DETROIT FREE PRESS
940218
Friday, February 18, 1994
METRO FINAL
1D
MITCH ALBOM
Copyright (c) 1994, Detroit Free Press
MAYHEM IN THE MEDIA AT TONYA-NANCY CIRCUS
LILLEHAMMER, Norway -- Things are getting crazy here in the emergency ward
of the Media Hospital.
"Doctor! Doctor!" a nurse screams. "This man is critical!"
"What's the problem?" I ask.
"He was shoved by a reporter and swallowed his camera."
"Mmmph . . . rnhmmph . . . smthtzyrt . . . yreez!"
"What's he saying?"
"He says whatever you do, save the film. He's got a shot of Tonya Harding
sneezing."
Before I can react, a man from "Inside Edition" offers me $1,000 for the
tape of Tonya sneezing -- $1,500 if I wipe it off first.
"Doctor! Doctor! Over here!"
I see a man with tire marks on his face.
"He was hiding under Nancy Kerrigan's van."
Before I can react, a reporter from "A Current Affair" offers me $2,000 to
photograph the tire mark -- $2,500 if I hold the man down while he shoots.
What can I say? It's been like this from the moment Tonya and Nancy
practiced Thursday in -- hold your breath now -- the SAME PLACE! Breathing the
SAME AIR! Wow! You want to talk about your major news stories, your Middle
East peace accords, your moon walks, your Lorena Bobbitt trials? Ha! Get outta
here with that baby stuff.
This is the BIG KAHUNA! True, the skaters didn't actually speak, or even
acknowledge each other. But never you mind. Hundreds of hardworking media folk
were there, in an area the size of a laundry room, hanging from rafters,
their faces turning blue, just in case Tonya did something typical, like light
a match on her teeth, or Nancy did something atypical, like utter an original
thought.
Nancy and Tonya? Together? In one place?
No wonder the ward is packed.
"Help me, Doctor, help me," a woman cries, rolling past on a gurney.
A cellular phone is rammed into her ear.
"It's worse than you think," she says. "The circuits have been busy for
hours!"
Reporter desperate for a Harding update
Of course, today is not our first heavy workload. We've been packed from
Day 1 of the XVII Nancy-Tonya Olympics, and we are running out of essential
supplies, such as British tabloid photos. Thank goodness for our funding,
which comes from two very generous school photographers, who sold Tonya's prom
pictures to "Hard Copy" and now own a villa in the Bahamas.
"Doc! Doc! Help me, Doc! I'm hurtin' . . . "
Hmm. Eyes glazed. Complexion pale. He is suffering from skatus
interruptus. This occurs when a reporter goes three and sometimes four whole
minutes without a Tonya-Nancy update. He needs a fix.
"Tonya and Jeff . . . " he mumbles, " . . . Nancy and Sluggo . . . "
"Nurse, quick. Tell him something."
She leans over and whispers in his ear: "The rumor is Tonya will skate in
her wedding dress and do a striptease for her short program."
The man perks up, starts breathing normally and races out the door.
"Thanks, Doc!" he yells. "Hey, guys! Wait up!"
Yes, sir, that's the kind of expert care we administer here. Sometimes, a
man's life -- or worse, his deadline -- can depend on our quick diagnosis.
Naturally, we employ only the most professional staff, each of them trained to
recognize symptoms. For example:
1. PATIENT HAS CAMERA PERMANENTLY LODGED IN HIS EYE.
Treatment: Adjust lens to "zoom."
2. PATIENT HAS TWO HEADS MELDED ONTO ONE BODY.
Treatment: See which one matches the media credential, dispose of the
other.
3. PATIENT HAS CHEST PAINS AND SHORTNESS OF BREATH.
Treatment: Nothing. This is clearly a Norwegian, who, quite frankly, has a
lot of nerve taking up space in a hospital when we have some really sick
people here.
Can't get enough of hot story
"Doctor! Over here!"
Uh-oh. Here come 17 Japanese photographers, their heads bowed. I bow as
well, showing respect. When I rise, they are still bent over.
"They're stuck," the nurse says. "They're photographers, and they've been
walking around with those nine-foot lenses on their necks."
We distribute 17 Brownie cameras -- the kind you can look through from
above -- and send them on their way. They shuffle out, still looking at their
feet, and thank us profusely.
But we are not here for thanks. We are here because we believe that the
world can never get enough Nancy-Tonya, at least until the Jackson Family TV
Show. And so we heal the black eyes, the bite marks and the gunshot wounds you
get when two reporters clash over a hot story, such as the color of Nancy's
leotard.
"Doctor, quick!" the nurse says, pulling in a confused- looking scribe.
"We found this man at a speedskating event, taking notes!"
"Sedate him quickly, and show him six hours of Connie Chung."
"Yes, sir."
Oh, the horror! Oh, the humanity! Please. If you have even a shred of
human kindness, give what you can to our nearest fund-raising office.
Tonya is having a press conference today.
We expect heavy casualties.