For years, studio audiences have asked me, “Have you ever thought about retiring?”
And I’ll respond, “Yes, I’ve thought about it. Why? Do you know something I don’t?”
Or they’ll ask, “How do you motivate yourself to do the same job year after year?”
And I’ll respond, “They pay me very well.”
One of the elements of my personality has always been—and I’m keenly aware of this—that if something was that important to me, that much of a driving force, then I would do something about it. The fact that I have not done something about changing my job is an indication that maybe I’m pretty satisfied, pretty content with where I am. It’s not hard to be content with being the thirty-six-year host of Jeopardy! You get a lot of respect. And, as I’ve discovered since the diagnosis revelation, you get a lot of love. There really is no downside to it. It’s not like I trudge to work every week and say, “Oh gosh, I’ve gotta do Jeopardy! again.”
It invigorates me. It’s the strangest thing now with cancer: there are days when I’m just a basket case before we tape. I can barely walk to the production meeting. But when Johnny introduces me and I get out onstage, it all changes suddenly. I’m myself again. I feel good. One taping day early in my treatment, my stomach cramps got so bad that I was on the floor writhing in pain. My pain level went from a three to an eleven. And it happened three or four times that day. I finished taping one of the shows and just made it back to my dressing room before collapsing and crying from the pain. I had fifteen minutes before the next show.
“If you don’t want to do the show, we’ll just cancel taping,” the producers said.
“No,” I said. “We’re here. We’re doing the shows.”
I really don’t understand how that happens. Other people on our staff have noticed it too. It’s like, “Get him off his deathbed and push him out and let him run the show and he’s fine. And then bring him backstage and put him back on the cot. Put him back on the gurney until the contestants are out and ready to go for the next show.”
I do not have an explanation for it. But it happens. And thank God it does. No matter how I feel before the show, when I get out there it’s all forgotten because there’s a show to be done. Work to do. “You know what you have to do, Trebek. Do it. Keep it moving. Run the game.”
Yet I know there will come a time when I won’t be able to answer that bell. I know there will come a time when I can no longer do my job as host—do it as well as the job demands, as well as I demand. Part of it is physical. Standing on your feet for eleven hours two days in a row is difficult for someone who’s about to turn eighty, even without getting worn down by chemotherapy. Several years back, Mark Goodson hired me to host a reboot of To Tell the Truth, and I loved it because it was the first time in my career as a host of quiz shows and game shows that I got the chance to host a show sitting down. My, my, what a joy that was. My eyesight has also deteriorated over the years. It’s not as easy for me to read the clues. The chemo has caused sores inside my mouth that make it difficult for me to enunciate. One treatment also turned my skin dark brown, and the chemo, of course, caused my hair to fall out.
But part of it is mental too. I’m the first to admit I’m not as sharp as I once was. I have more and more brain skips. What I call “senior moments.” I’ll transpose numbers. I’ll say 1974 instead of 1947. And I won’t notice I’ve made that mistake until the producers ask me to reread the clue. In my younger years, I would catch myself just before I was about to make a mistake and do it correctly. Later on, I would realize I had made the mistake just after I made it. Now, I don’t even know I made an error. But I figure, Hell, I’ve got the job… who cares? I do find that the older you get, the more difficult it is to maintain your concentration. And in this job, concentration is imperative. You can have those slipups in casual conversation with friends. But you can’t get away with that as the host of Jeopardy!
Whenever it gets to that point, I’ll walk away. You won’t see Johnny wheeling me out onto the stage. “Here, Alex, let me wipe that drool off your chin. Okay, now go ahead and start the game.”
And Jeopardy! will be just fine. It doesn’t matter who’s the host. It’s a quality program. Look at The Price Is Right. When Drew Carey replaced Bob Barker, so many people said the show would never survive. It’s still a success. There are other hosts out there who can do equally as good a job as me. I think Jeopardy! can go on forever.