During the early run of MTV Sports, we received many accolades and my job in particular had been referred to by many in the media as, “the greatest job in television.” Truth is, it was a dream job, and if I could do it all over again, I would, without hesitation, dive head first into the extreme bliss that was MTV Sports. For those of you don't know or may have forgotten the show, here's a few random episodes off of the top of my head to give you a bite-sized sample of some of the fun we had and places where we left some positive energy.

Pamplona, Spain

I lived out one of my childhood dreams and got to see firsthand what Ernest Hemingway referred to as “furious energy” when I laced up my Nikes and took part in the running of the bulls. This legendary event has been a staple of Spanish culture since the fourteenth century, so going into the day we knew this episode would prove to be an epic one—thus, everything had to be right.

The traditional running of the bulls attire consists of a red neckerchief, white shirt, and red sash. Out of respect, I kept with the theme and just grunged it up a bit. White shirt with an appropriately placed giant red bullseye on the back, red neckerchief, red sash, and of course, the necessary headgear, my red bandanna.

While I was aware that a run took place daily for eight consecutive days, I was not aware that 99 percent of the people that run are utterly hammered. Imagine a town of wasted Daytona Beach Spring Breakers getting their drunk sunburnt asses run the hell over by 1,200-pound bulls, literally run over. Only instead of G-strings and Speedos, they're wearing white shirts covered with Sangria and vomit stains. Yes, these fine folks toss back Sangria all night long, until the race starts at 8 a.m., then they attempt to run/stagger with the bulls. Then post-race/survival, they proceed to pass out all over the town square, wake up around 6 p.m., rinse and repeat.

Regarding my run, we were covertly filming it for the show, because at the time, it was illegal to do so. I recall trying to be “super-relaxed guy” for the camera—that was, until the ground started shaking like a 5.0 earthquake. As the bulls rapidly closed their gap with the masses, the reality of the situation hit me harder than a Jåger-bomb for breakfast. The sound of the thundering herd mixed with the exuberant panic of the people made “super-relaxed guy” act more like “Super F-this, I'm running for my life guy” (Figure 16.1). At that point, it was every man for himself. I was less concerned with filming the show and more concerned with not taking a bull horn to the ass.

Although, the aforementioned horn-to-ass concern almost did occur. As the fortunate ones who still remained ran for our lives toward the finish line at the colosseum bull ring, a staggering drunk frat boy (probably from Duke) fell down in front of me, causing me to do the same and I immediately had my left shoulder crushed by a bull hoof. By “crushed” I mean slightly grazed, just enough to leave a bruise, but I found the adjective “crushed” helped build the drama once I got into the colosseum to film the close of the show.

New York City

I was one of the fortunate few who rode in the New York Rangers ticker tape parade through the streets of New York City after they ended their 54-year drought of winning a Stanley Cup.

Trust me, you haven't seen New York until you've seen it from the back of a convertible in a ticker tape parade. Actually, it should have been called a “just throw whatever the hell you want out of your windows” parade. We were filming in the midst of one and a half million exuberant New Yorkers who were lining the streets and hanging out of windows. Mixed in with the downpour of confetti, a few of my favorite items falling from the sky that day were beach balls, a pair of men's briefs, and the slice of pizza that landed on our trunk. The pizza was not only surprising to see but also quite delicious.

#NewYorkStyle #ILoveNewYork #DMmeIfYouWantYourBriefsBack

Churchill Downs, Louisville, Kentucky

It was a rainy day at the 1994 Kentucky Derby, and 157,000 people with giant hats, southern drawls, and Mint Julep buzzes were acting like the rain was just God's way of washing away their sins.

I'd never experienced anything like this, not just the sheer magnitude of it, but the commitment to its traditions from all in attendance. The Kentucky Derby is one of the biggest parties on the planet, and not only did I get to indulge in the party and smoke a cigar with Dennis Hopper in between races but we got to film at the finish line (Figure 16.2).

That day was also the first and last time I've ever placed a bet on horses. With the cameras rolling, I went to the betting window and decided to drop $50 on my horse of choice, a 10-1 thoroughbred named Go For Gin. Why Go For Gin? Because one, I lacked any sense of gambling prowess and two, I liked drinking Tanqueray gin at the time.

With the crowd fever pitched and screaming at the top of their lungs, the horses raced down the back straightaway toward the finish line. Wouldn't you know it, Go For Gin was in the damn lead. I was jumping up and down more than Richard Simmons at a Dolphin Shorts sale in West Hollywood. With the gambling gods looking down upon me on that wet Saturday afternoon in May, Go For Gin went on to win the Kentucky Derby and I won $500, which I happily spent on beer for the crew later that night.

In an odd side note, I have a Twitter follower who claims he started betting on horses after seeing that episode of the show. That said, I'd like to take this moment to apologize to his wife for any monies lost—for the monies won, feel free to Venmo me my 20 percent.

Talladega Superspeedway, Talladega, Alabama

The Winston 500. This was not only my initial introduction to the beautiful state of Alabama, but my baptism by Miller Lite and Skoal chewing tobacco into the world of NASCAR racing.

There ain't no red quite like crimson red, trust me, and that's coming from a guy who spent his four years of college in North Cackalacky. This 2.66 mile oval track covered 270 acres, which by the race's end seemed to have had 269 of those acres covered in beer cans. The guy who has the recycling contract for the track must be ballin'.

Thanks to the good folks at Team Penske, we were lucky enough to be shooting an episode in the pits with team owner Roger Penske, Hall of Fame driver Rusty Wallace, and their talented pit crew. Being able to witness what takes place behind the scenes during one of these races and how it's a complete team effort was truly an eye-opening experience for me.

In a WTF sidenote, that shoot also, oddly enough, led to myself, Rusty, and some friends a few years later vacationing together on a 138-foot private yacht along the Amalfi Coast in Italy. Yes, an odd fact, but a fact nonetheless, which lands at #2 on the list titled, “Name two guys you never thought would hang out together.” Number one on the list would definitely have to be the time I was in Cabo doing shots of Mezcal with Olympic Gold medalist and figure skating god, Scott Hamilton.

By the way, to the person who left their camera on the table next to us while they went to the bathroom, we apologize for all those photos of “random junk.”

Wrigley Field, Chicago

This was one of my most memorable shoots because prior to this, seeing a baseball game at the fabled Wrigley Field was a staple on my bucket list.

The crew and I were really excited and surprised because the Cubs had honored us by designating it MTV Sports Day and because of that, I had been asked to throw out the first pitch. One thing the Cubs P.R. team failed to mention to us was, it was also Tony G's Barbershop Day, Maury Schwartz Mortuary Day, and some random School-for-Kids-Who-Don't-Like-Going-to-School Day. Seriously, we were sharing our “day” with at least five other “days.” Truth is, we didn't care, we actually thought it was pretty hilarious and intentionally played up the honor of our big day on camera.

I not only got to throw out the first pitch for the Cubs game, or at least one of them (Figure 16.3), we got to shoot for half an inning with Cubs Hall of Fame play-by-play announcer Harry Caray. For those of you who don't know Harry, he was a one-of-a-kind character and a larger-than-life icon in the broadcasting community. The other thing that was larger than life were the beers he would drink during the game. If Bud makes you wiser, then Harry was freakin' Yoda.

When it came time for us to shoot with him, I was ushered into his booth while the game was in progress. For some reason, Harry was under the impression that I had recently interviewed then-President Bill Clinton, which I had not. The closest I came to that was doing Tequila shots in 1996 with his brother Roger Clinton, at a bar a block away from the Republican Convention in San Diego (feel free to add that as #3 to the previously mentioned list). But I digress…

So what do you do when Harry Caray wants to share a Budweiser and talk Slick Willy? You sip your Bud, nod your head a lot, and talk Slick Willy. To this day, that was my first and last on-camera “political” conversation. He was generous, hilarious, and quite engaging, and thanks to Harry, to this day, I still have “political analyst” on my resume.

Dublin, Ireland

I knew people were really starting to take notice of us when Paramount Pictures contacted the show and wanted us to shoot with Mel Gibson from the set of Braveheart. No, it wasn't a sports-related movie, but we didn't care, it was a free trip to Ireland to shoot with Mel.

A few days later, I landed in Dublin at 11 a.m., 10 hours before my crew was set to arrive. The hotel concierge had a rather novel idea for me. He gave me a list of three bars and suggested I go on a pub crawl in my down time. When I asked him why he only wrote down three pubs, he smirked, and responded, “You won't make it out of the second one,” and he was right. Playing darts and drinking Guiness all day while simultaneously trying to decipher the Irish brogue with five men whose combined age was roughly 950 deserves to be a book in itself.

The following day, when we got to the set, I was hustled through hair and makeup, so I'd look the part of a thirteenth-century Scotsman, just like everyone else in the film. The angle for the episode was to have me work with the stunt crew who choreographed the battle scenes, so that when we got our ten minutes with Mel, he could give me pointers on what I'd learned.

Mel wasn't just starring in this epic picture but directing it as well. His time needed to be used judiciously so when he finally arrived, he obviously wanted to know exactly what we were going to shoot. To break the ice, I told him, “We're going to film you beating the shit out of me with that wooden mallet over there.” Mel apparently thought this was the greatest idea of all time, and without hesitation, commenced to beating the shit out of me with the wooden mallet. The blood packs attached to each end of the mallet seemed to amuse him to no end. It didn't matter that I was dizzy or that my ears were ringing, Mel was having fun pummeling away, and because of that, I knew this was going to make for a great episode (Figure 16.4). I still think the follow-up episode should have been shot during my CAT scan, but you can't always get what you want.

When our time with Mel was up, he looked at my bloodied face, laughed, and said, “Do you want to be in the movie?” Cut to the scene where Mel's character, William Wallace was being knighted: I was one of a group of Scottish clansmen waaaay in the back of the room. I was positive I wasn't on camera and my crew was simultaneously filming for our show, so I was making dumbass faces and dancing for our cameras. After the scene ended, Mel asked his cameraman how the shot looked and he said, “Great, except the asshole way in the back was dancing throughout it.” Thus abruptly ended my chances at an Academy Award for my cameo in Braveheart.