Dodging the 'Bee'

I was a little flattered, frankly, when NBC publicists began swarming around during the cocktail party for the network’s first night of press tour. Would I be willing to take part in ''Spelling Bee''?

Not the TV show itself, which has been a surprise hit in its initial airing, and upon whose success NBC had already rearranged its fall schedule.

This would be a party version of the game, involving host Joey Fatone and the three comely ''Singing Bee'' dancers, doing a private network party version of the game that would also include Zac Levi, star of the network’s upcoming show ''Chuck,'' Scott Porter of the network's highly-regarded ''Friday Night Lights'' and a reporter from Us Weekly.

Well, heavy hitters, all. But why me? Why someone from the 28th biggest TV market when they could get a writer from a bigger metropolitan paper? In addition to bigger names, there were certainly better voices from which to pluck a likely candidate.

Why me?

Reporter participation in network ''fun'' can be a dicey thing. I remember being embarrassed for a reporter recruited for a free makeover during a press session for a now-forgotten Style Channel show.

Taking part in their demonstrations may be fine for morning show hosts, but it tends to take newspaper reporters out of their traditional role as dispassionate observers (plus we can be kind of shy).

But these women were fawning so much at how good I'd be, possibly because if I wasn't good, I'd have fun with it. I got to know them, after all, on a previous press tour, sitting around at a bar thinking up names of songs with cheese in their names (''Let it Brie'' and the like).

I'm slow to convince on these things, and yet I was definitely leading toward agreeing in what would be my post public outing at press tour – a performance in front of network executives, TV stars and starlets, and yes, my own colleagues, who may treat me with suspicion or contempt for being part of their little show.

I needed to bounce the idea off somebody. So walking out to the terrace to ask a friend, the publicists saw someone else they knew, a reporter from the Newark, N.J., Star-Ledger.

''Do you want to do it?'' they asked him.

''Sure,'' he said, unhesitatingly.

Which I suppose is also why Alan Sepinwall got that lone David Chase interview following ''The Sopranos'' finale instead of me.

He was the guy that got to sing at the party, in an event that not only made the trade publications but was pictured in USA Today eventually.

Already I felt I was blindsided by these teasing publicists. ''Why do you build me up Buttercup?'' I seethed to myself, already thinking in terms of song lyrics I would need to memorize.

But in little time I felt great relief.

Instead of getting on stage to test my skills, I could have the comfort of staying in the anonymous crowd and criticizing others (and I was reminded of a small lesson in the process).

When it came time for the party performance, atop a transformed garage roof of the Beverly Hilton pretty much adjacent to my room, I gathered in to witness what would have been the debacle of my fate.

Joey Fatone is all cue cards and smiling as he introduces the competitors to cheers, the Bee dancers are ready to boogie to whatever.

First song, you would think, would be easy: ''Roxanne'' by the Police.

US Magazine guy flubs it

''Friday Night Lights'' guy flubs it.

I'm pretty sure I would have flubbed it, too, more than likely choosing to repeat the previous verse: ''you don’t have to sell your body to the night.''

But Sepinwall, to his credit, gets it right: ''I don’t care if it’s wrong of if it’s right.''

And he obviously does care if it is.

And just like that, he's in a semi-final round with Levi, a lanky and affable guy memorable to me not so much for his supporting role on ''Less Than Perfect'' than for his exuberant behavior at ABC press tour parties, leading the charge to the dance floor long before the ''Dancing with the Stars'' pros took over.

Anyway, he's an entertainer, party dude and tough competitor and Sepinwall didn't cut a better picture of contrasts than I would have – star vs. schlub. And in a head to head battle, Sepinwall put in maybe too much into his performance of Madonna''s ''Like a Virgin.” But, just as many contestants have fallen on the show, he was thrown by one word.

He sang ''with your heart beat next to mine'' instead of ''when your heart beats next to mind.''

Levi, for his part, aced the ''Flintstones'' tricky lyric (''through the courtesy of Fred’s two feet'') that predates his cartoon watching years by a decade or two, and he went on to ace the money round (though he was only given fake money) – knowing songs from ''Brick House'' and ''Baby Got Back'' to ''Don’t Cha'' and ''Breakfast at Tiffanys.'' (I would have totally tanked on that song; I hate that one-hit-wonder from Deep Blue Something).

He didn't win real money, though, just fake peacock dollars, not even good at the NBC store. And he didn't humiliate himself, which is huge.

And from the safety of the crowd, I was reminded of my favorite anti-lotto playing axiom: If you don't play, you can’t lose.