Our story, Never Meet Your Heroes, leads us into fandom and a lot of love for Lou Diamond Phillips, before spiraling into a discussion on a few celebrities we have enjoyed – Joss Whedon, Gina Carano, Kevin Spacey – who falter and the question becomes; can you remain the same fan of their work as you used to be…and can they ever come back? All this and more on this episode of SMIRK!
Welcome to Smirk. A podcast that covers society and culture through a storytelling lens. Part creative writing, part discussion, and always interesting. Each week our hosts brings a story to the show, a story they wrote themselves, which is immediately followed by discussion on the author’s moral or theme. These stories can cover any topic the host wants to discuss, it can be lighthearted or more serious. No one but the author knows if these tales are truth or fiction, and part of the fun is guessing while you’re listening before the reality is made clear.
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Want to read Aaron’s story “Never Meet Your Heroes” in full? Think you can identify the moral or theme for this episode? Read it below, and then take a listen to the podcast.
Never Meet Your Heroes
Today was the day!
Jack had been a fan of Steve McShane’s since childhood. McShane was just one of those rare combinations of talent, charisma, and genuine quirkiness. Often times throughout the years, Jack found himself dreaming of what it would be like to sit down and have a conversation with Mr. Steve McShane, and today…it was happening.
Years of working, writing, planning. Everything had been building to this moment. Sure, Jack had plenty of other accomplishments, and numerous other actors he loved a bit more, but this one was a reality coming to pass. It was definitely a pinnacle of his career as a journalist, meeting and interviewing one of his childhood heroes.
As an independent outlet, he would be provided remote access to McShane, to ask the actor anything he wanted about his new television series, career, or virtually anything else he wanted.
Jack nervously set up his studio, picked up the phone, and dialed the number. First was the obligatory publicity rep who connected the call. Next was the attendant who let him know that Steve McShane would be on the line soon. Finally, he heard the voice.
“Jack? This is Steve McShane. How the hell are you, you sunufabitch?!”
Jack almost felt himself tinkle a little, he was so excited. But he forced himself to relax and remain a professional.
“Hi, Steve! I’m great, excited to finally talk to you, I’ve been a fan of yours for years!” Jack knew he sounded a bit too gleeful, but he just had to get that out there.
“Cool, man. Glad you dig my stuff. So what the hell are we talking about?” Steve sounded as though he was almost confused as to what the call was all about.
“Your new show, let’s talk about you coming back to television after being gone for so long.”
“Seepity dippity dooooooooooooooooo!”
Jack immediately thought Steve was playing a joke on him, but one where only Steve knew the punchline.
“Excuse me? Did you hear my question, Steve?” Jack asked, politely.
“Get the hell away from me, buddy! Do I look like I wanna go on a date? Then back up.” Steve was obviously in a public place of sorts.
“Everything ok, Steve?” Jack again spoke softly and respectfully.
“Steve? Who the hell is this? I don’t even know you man, don’t call me Steve. Act like a professional, not my damn mother.”
Jack had been around his share of alcoholics in his life, so it became painfully oblivious that Steve was drunk off his rocker.
“Mr. McShane, are you going to be OK for the interview?” Again, polite.
“What interview? Who the hell is this guy asking me if I’m gay? You have a lot of nerve, jackass.” Steve was now talking to either himself or someone else with him, but definitely not to Jack. Or at least, he wasn’t actually understanding what Jack was saying.
“No, I asked if you were OK, sir”.
“No, are YOU?! What the hell kind of questions are these. Are you sure you’re even a writer, man? Who the hell are you? Why am I even talking to you? I can’t believe I’m wasting my time talking to some piss ant rag that no one is ever going to even read. Who reads shit magazines anymore anyway” McShane was becoming less and less lucid. If he was not blackout drunk by this point, it would be a complete surprise.
Suddenly, the attendant came back on.
“Jack, we’re going to have to reschedule this call. Mr. McShane is working in England right now, and he obviously is exhausted from the time change. We’ll get back to you with his availability. Of course, we fully expect you will keep his exhaustion out of any media coverage. Thank you, goodbye.”
Click.
That was it. Jack’s meeting with a childhood hero became nothing more than a drunken prank phone call. Weeks of planning, preparation, and a lifetime of excitement, all for nothing.
It was at this moment, that Jack had to stop and take stock of a very important question: did I just waste years of my life being a fan of this man?