Apparently, Ronnie Brewer majored in broadcast journalism at the
It begins with a clip of Ronnie wearing a burgundy blazer and ½ inch diameter diamond earrings. He explains to the camera that TV reporting is his “back-up plan” in case basketball doesn’t, you know, “work out.”
An immediate cut to Ronnie shyly receiving instructions from some female KJZZ producer while intensely gripping the microphone like a 10-year-old grips a baseball bat in little league.
This scene is followed by a montage showing Ronnie stumbling through his introduction to the segment a minimum of five times. The difficult line? “Thanks Steve, I’m here at the Huntsman Cancer Institute to bring you a taste of Mardi Gras in the Mountains.” (The version they broadcasted has Ronnie blinking nearly 100 times in 5 seconds and annunciating as if he is storing a sucker somewhere in his mouth.)
Cut.[1] Brief shot of someone I can only assume is another producer observing the proceedings and saying, “I think he needs cue cards.” CJ Miles, who for some reason is along for the ride, sits behind the camera and shakes his head. Miles obviously doesn’t know how to react to his close friend and teammate unintentionally revealing that he didn’t go to a single class during his stint as a “student athlete.”
Then, a scene of Ronnie addressing how he “stuttered” through his first couple of lines and how the whole thing “didn’t go so well.” The next scene is of Miles saying in an awkward cracking voice, “Well, I’m just going to say this…my momma said, ‘You can do anything you put your mind to.’ So, I’m in no place to wreck the man’s dreams.”
In journalism, this is what we call the telling detail.
Fade to Ronnie again working with the producers. With the bright lights of the camera blaring down on him, Ronnie is confused about whether or not he is supposed to introduce himself as “Ronnie Brewer.” Desperate at this point, the producers go searching for someone, anyone to help out.
For no apparent reason, Mandy Harpring, who is a doctor at LDS hospital, is enlisted. Cut to Mandy Harpring sitting next to Brewer working in an intense one-on-one session. Yes, indeed, you introduce yourself with your own name not someone else’s.
Then, cut to Mandy giving praise only a woman who has spent far too much time in
Then, jump cut. All of a sudden the piece becomes a combination of a David Lynch film and Hertzog documentary. Wearing his maroon blazer, Ronnie is clutching the microphone with Sloan next to him. Sloan is wearing a curly blond mullet wig with a baseball hat on top. Fake hair reaches nearly the middle of his back. It looks like a party favor purchased at Cahoots, a possible good bye gift of John Amaechi before he was shipped off to
Ronnie is stumbling for words. He seems to have a very tough question for his coach on the tip of his tongue. My mind is wild with anticipation. “Why the hell do you continue to start a 6’1’’ point guard out of position, making your team vulnerable to monumental offensive outbursts every time they play an all-star caliber shooting guard—which the team will absolutely be doing in the playoffs. I mean are you really going to have Derek Fisher guard Tracy McGrady?”
I’m a about to pee my pants waiting for the question, when Ronnie shakes his head out of what seems like intense contemplative thought and stumbles through the following sentence, “Coach. ..erh...um…are you having fun tonight?”
Sloan is giddy like a high school girl who just found out she doesn’t have to tell her parents about the abortion. “Ronnie, I am…I think I’m having too much fun.”
[1] Remember there is a rule in TV production that says a you can’t stay with a single shot without cutting for more than 4 seconds—if you don’t believe me next time you’re watching the tube count down the seconds before each cut. If you want to know why there is an entire generation of ADHD adults 15 years from now, this is why. If Ronnie had actually gone to a class at
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