As a nation, we rubberneck.

Robbie Knievel's Head On Train Jump Live aired on Wednesday, February 23, 2000.

The other day, while driving down I-65 on my way to work, traffic suddenly came to a near standstill. Being that it was only two-thirty in the afternoon, a weekday, and too early for rush hour, the cause of this hold-up, naturally, was an accident. So, for the next twenty minutes, I crept ever so slowly down the interstate, cursing and grumbling about how long this was taking, and overly-exaggerating the consequences of showing up late for work (which, in all honesty, I probably would have done anyway). Finally, it was my turn to be directed by the police around the scene of the collision.

Now, after all that time I wasted whining and moaning about this relatively minor delay, what did I do when it was finally my turn to pass the totaled vehicles and go about my merry way? From my initial reaction, one would logically conclude that I passed quickly, being completely focused on reaching my destination, and hoping to make up for lost time. But that's not what happened. Instead, when I passed, I drove as slowly as possible (without trying to be too obvious), and gazed at the carnage on the shoulder of the interstate, soaking in as much as I can in the short period of time allotted. What did I see? A mutilated corpse hanging haphazardly from the passenger side window? A decapitated head with one of those absurd chalk outlines around it? No, I didn't see anything. You almost never do. But it's that primal urge, a sickening bloodlust within a majority of the human race, which caused, nay, forced me to rubberneck as I drove by.

How, exactly, does one get certified as a "professional" train jumper?

It's that same urge that causes the public to tune into programs like Robbie Knievel's Head On Train Jump Live. If questioned directly, most would say that they were watching to see Robbie prove triumphant in an incredible feat of daring. But the truth is, people really watch for the "What if?" factor. What if Robbie doesn't make it? What if there was some slight miscalculation on the part of the Team Knievel, and instead of actually jumping the train, Robbie becomes a permanent fixture on the steam engine's grill? Or, what if he jumps, clears the front, but hits that huge steam pipe protruding up top, thus causing him to do a double backflip, and then wedge himself between two wheels of the caboose? Now, I'm not saying people (necessarily) want to see Knievel go squish -- but there is that morbid curiosity to watch, just in case he does.

Hosted by Fox (who else?) commentator Mark Thompson, and four-time Superbowl champion Matt Millen, Robbie Knievel's Head On Train Jump Live kicks off on location at the site of the jump -- a small railroad station in Palestine, Texas. Being that this is an hour long show, and the jump itself may actually last between five to seven seconds, the viewer can sit comfortably knowing that for the next fifty some-odd minutes, they're going to be treated to some relentless show padding. Said padding first comes in the form of digital graphics depicting a simulation of Knievel's jump -- both what the jump should look like, and naturally, the possible messy consequences of a botched attempt. The analysis, interestingly enough, is provided by Matt Millen. This makes perfect sense being that he is a four-time Superbowl champion. Football and Train Jumping -- they're like peanut butter and jelly.
Same silly stunts, less-catchy moniker.

The next time-killer is a brief history of Palestine, a town with an illustrious history of being dependent on trains (and the people who jump them). Then, in the spirit of responsible journalism, Fox informs the viewing audience that Team Knievel are, in fact, professionals -- which brings about the inevitable, "Don't try this at home." Upon hearing this sound advice, an image automatically popped into my head of Rudy Redneck, somewhere deep in the heart of Texas, astride his little dirt bike, watching Robbie Knievel on the portable TV he has perched atop his beer cooler. Just as he was about the jump the 8:30 Amtrak Express heading towards El Paso, Fox reminds Rudy that Knievel is a professional, and he should not try this at home. And thus, Fox saves a life.
Using the latest in Nintendo technology, Fox illustrates the logistics of Knievel's jump. (Super Mario was unavailable for comment.)

Through the use of cold science and mathematical reasoning, scientists prove once and for all that Robbie Knievel is, in fact, a moron.

Then, in a turn from the ridiculous to the absurd, we go to the University of Texas, Physics Department, where a crack team of scientists have mathematically calculated the numerous variables of Knievel's jump. What the camera doesn't catch, however, is that after the physics professor's fifteen minutes of fame, he then returns to a life of relative obscurity, and the thankless job of providing an education -- and chances are, over the entire run of his tenure, he'll never see the amount of money Knievel makes on this jump alone. But hey, physics just aren't as cool as motorcycle stunts.

Fox, knowing damn well that death and mutilation spells ratings, then segues to a flashback of when Robbie Knievel jumped the Grand Canyon last year. Though the jump itself was a success, the landing proved a little more troublesome as Knievel lost control and spilled his bike -- breaking three bones in the process. We then cut to an interview segment, of which (four-time Superbowl champ) Matt Millen sets up as "a surprising look" at the "sensitive side" of Robbie Knievel. Now, this is where the line must be drawn; I don't need anyone wrecking my pure machismo satisfaction with the discussion of trivialities such as "feelings" and "emotions." What does Fox hope to accomplish by this? Robbie Knievel: Sure, he may be a motorcycle daredevil willing to put his own life on the line for the amusement of his fans -- but sometimes, he just needs a hug. Is that so wrong? The discussion then delves into his interaction with children, and how he's such an important role model to today's youth.

Nothing quite brings the family together like the threat of train-induced bodily harm.

Immediately after being established as a role model, Knievel makes his grand entrance -- complete with fireworks, explosions, and KISS' "Detroit Rock City." Now, if I were a role model, I don't think I would choose a theme song that states, "First I drink, then I smoke," -- but being that I'm not a role model, what do I know? Finally, after taking some test runs, and popping some wheelies for the delight of the crowd, the moment of truth arrives and Robbie jumps the train. I know I should probably try to build up the climax of the show some more, perhaps add a little dramatic emphasis, some well-placed pauses in my delivery -- he flies down the runway, approaches the ramp, the train is coming full-force....KNIEVEL JUMPS AND....and what? He makes it. Of course he makes it. Was there ever any real doubt? All evidence indicated that Knievel would, in fact, jump the train. Going in, I knew Knievel would jump the train. You knew it too. But it was that little voice in the back of our heads that actually made us watch. It was that little voice that kept prodding, "But what if he doesn't?" Well, he did. But chances are pretty good that next year, Team Knievel will move on to even more fool-hardy endeavors; and chances are pretty good that a large percentage of the viewing public will once again tune in to watch the event. We'll watch the stunt knowing Knievel will survive; but we won't, however, be without ulterior motives.

Joe Bannerman performs the movie-watching equivalent of a head-on train jump when he watches some of the flicks he reviews for Opposable Thumb Films. Please don't try it at home.

Copyright © 2000 by Joe Bannerman