The popularity of MTV Sports felt like it was growing exponentially by the day. The media had a schoolgirl–like crush on the show because it was unlike anything that had preceded it, not just with what we covered but how masterfully it was edited and pieced together by our staff. If the huge following of the MTV generation wasn't proof enough of our success, the fact that we won MTV its first-ever Emmy Award and added another one to its mantel a year later was. We were not only changing the way people viewed sports but we were influencing how mainstream sports started shooting their programs as well. We opened the door to this fun, freewheeling visual approach, and mainstream sports followed us through it.

The media was also obsessed with this new, no-name guy hosting the show. Who is this guy? Cortez? Corteez? Where'd he come from? Why is he talking to the camera? What's with the bandanna? Was I what they call in Hollywood a “flavor of the month”? Initially, of course, I was—it's how the industry format works for newbies, build them up to tear them down. Always has been, always will.

The media requests for interviews and appearances were becoming increasingly more difficult for me to keep up with, but they were never burdensome. I was living my dream, so none of this felt like work, it felt more like the plain and simple fun that it was meant to be. It was because of the fun and popularity that money, or the lack thereof, stayed in the back of my mind.

That was, until the summer of 1992. We were in Hawaii filming an episode of MTV Sports and I received a call from my manager, who prefaced the conversation by telling me to “sit down.” Apparently, he'd received a call regarding an offer for me, an offer unlike any we'd seen prior to this point. No, it wasn't an interview request or a mall appearance. This was, as they say, when “shit got real” in my professional career.

Burger King was launching a $150 million ad campaign called BK Tee Vee, and they wanted to feature me in the commercial spots. Dan Cortese as part of a $150 million ad campaign? Never in my wildest dreams could I ever fathom hearing that. They were also going to make an offer to my friend, Patrick Byrnes, to direct the commercials, which were to be shot in the same fast-paced, improv-driven vein as MTV Sports. That was followed by how much they were willing to pay me. Now remember, I'm the guy who was excited to make $11 an hour working the graveyard shift at a steel mill, a guy who still thinks $20 is a lot of money.

But, the executives at Burger King and their ad agency obviously had done their homework. They knew I was a 24-year-old kid who, that year, was set to make less than $20K for hosting my show, so what better way to get me on board than to hire my best friend then hit me right between the eyes with a bunch of zeros to get me to say yes. At that point in my career, it was definitely life changing money, so of course I was going to bungee jump right into the gig. Plus, I looked at it as a potential positive career move as far as increased visibility to non-MTV viewers. Little did I know that this deal would be an incredible learning lesson for me as to how the business works.

After a few weeks, with our negotiations almost completed we received a call from the MTV business affairs office in New York. The gist of that call was curt and to the point: Contractually, MTV had the right to approve or disapprove any on-camera jobs I was offered outside of the network. So, after internal discussions, MTV was refusing to allow me to take part in the BK Tee Vee campaign. I always laugh looking back at the fact that they were said to have had “internal discussions,” because I'm sure that it was less of a discussion and more of a statement that sounded something like “Hell no he can't do them!”

Talk about a shot to the chicken nuggets. The network's message was loud and clear. We found you, you're our property, you will do what we tell you to do. Remember, I was less than six months into this hosting thing. I not only had no money, I also had no attorney…another lesson learned. Luckily, what I did have was access to MTV Sports t-shirts and a friend, who had a friend who was a lawyer.

It's weird how sometimes the most seemingly difficult situations can be addressed in the simplest of ways. Another lesson learned—don't overthink things. I didn't, basically because I was too young and too new to all of this. Also, I was alone and living 2,500 miles away from my family, so it was all on me. The rest of it went down like this: My friend's lawyer buddy wanted to meet me for drinks and said that if I gave him two autographed MTV Sports shirts, he'd look over my contract pro bono. That was a no brainer. I even brought two MTV baseball hats for good measure, then with a nervous Frank Burns–like giggle, I picked up the tab and prayed that my card wouldn't get declined in front of him. As silly as it sounds, at the time I felt this meeting was my only hope of keeping the deal alive.

Two days later, I received a “good news/bad news” call from the attorney, and like they always do in the movies, I went with the bad news first. That news was as follows. He said no matter how many years I worked at MTV, I would never make more than $400 an episode. He quickly followed that with a “more importantly, my MTV Sports shirt is fitting a little snug.” After agreeing to send him a double XL, he asked if I'd like to meet to have beers again to make the swap. I assumed his small talk either meant the “good news” wasn't very good or he just wanted an excuse to get out of the house again.

After I agreed, he dove into the “good news.” He happily told me that my contract had three paragraphs that were illegal under New York state law. I wasn't necessarily clear how that news was good, so he explained that if I kept my existing contract the way it was, I was free to do any other work I pleased without having to gain the network's permission. “Legally they can't hold you to it because it's an illegal deal. So keep cashing those $400 checks from here on out, and go make as much money as you can doing whatever you want on the side. So, how's about tomorrow at 5 p.m. for happy hour at Shooters?”

Just like that, the crisis was averted, and over the next five years of hosting MTV Sports my contract never changed. Once again, the power of the MTV t-shirt prevailed. Truth be told, even though the network was not pleased, I never harbored any ill will toward them. I'll always love MTV because I made lifelong friends there and was fortunate enough to be a part of something special that took place during the most influential time of the network's history. I've always looked at the contract issues as nothing more than my introduction into the business side of a creative industry.

So with the contract issues in the rearview mirror, I was happily crowned and set to become the face of BK Tee Vee. The plan was to film the commercials with actual patrons at Burger King's all over the country, with the hopes to really connect with their consumers. Initially it started extremely well, but then in an effort to save money, the ad agency fired Patrick, had its own executives direct the spots, and started scripting them as well. That's where we got more than a little off track. Let's just say, people on their lunch breaks in places like Harlem weren't too overjoyed when some guy with a backward baseball cap and camera crew would jump into their booth and say something like, “How's that whopper tasting, big man? Bet you wished you had a side of popcorn to go with that. Boom! Ask and you shall receive!”

The goal was to saturate the market with these spots, and saturate they did. We shot close to 100 commercials in total, I believe 15 to 20 were national spots and the rest were regional. They were everywhere. You couldn't switch the channel without seeing one. But as it always goes, if you have too much of something, you might not want it anymore. The media chose to turn up the flame-broiled heat on me. From David Spade on Saturday Night Live to David Letterman, I became the butt of some pretty hilarious jokes. Others also took a few cheap shots, but they were unintelligent attempts and basic at best, usually based around calling me a “sellout.”

I remember being asked in an interview not too long ago that if I knew the way that the BK campaign would change a lot of people's perception of me, would I still have chosen to be a part of it? That's a simple answer, of course I would have. That job put food on my table, bought me my first house, and put money in the bank for the children I'd hoped to have one day.

Truth is, I've never really cared what others have thought about me, and I still don't. It's a waste of time and energy. I've always believed that internal strength is the foundation for external happiness. While some may have chosen to perceive me in a particularly negative way, that's fine, that's their choice. That became an unforeseen precursor for me dealing with the likes of today's social media trolls.

I've taken a simpler approach. I've chosen to believe in myself and strived to achieve my goals. The truth is, BK Tee Vee opened many more doors for me than it closed. Actually, it's too bad that deal didn't happen in today's media market. It would have been hard to label me a sellout for doing fast-food commercials when you've got Oscar winners hosting game shows. Oh well, to each his own. I hope everyone eventually gets their own whopper of a deal.