Comparing crooners, pickers, and belters, judges from a previous year try to select the most talented entrant in the Colgate Country Music Showdown. The 2010 version featuring 15 contestants will be at the Gillespie County Fair on Thursday night. Photo by Phil Houseal

Details:
Colgate Country Music Showdown is held Thursday, August 26, from 8 to 10 p.m. at the Gillespie County Fair Grounds. Admission is free. The event is sponsored by KNAF - KFAN radio.

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Showdown at the Showdown

by Phil Houseal
Aug 25, 2010

The audience at the Colgate Country Music Showdown this Thursday will witness lots of stress, anxiety, fretting, and downright terror during the popular amateur talent contest.

And most of it will happen at the judges table.

If your idea of judging comes from watching the TV “talent” contests, your idea is incorrect. The suave, debonair critics dish out catty remarks and witticisms as if they were scripted. In the case of TV, they are. Scripted and rehearsed, even the nasty barbs of the “evil” judge.

I have judged science fairs, writing contests, photography exhibits, and livestock. And I have judged a talent show, and there is no joy in assessing fellow entertainers.

The event was based on one of the popular dancing shows. Amateur dancers were paired with dance instructors. Teams took their performance seriously. They prepared for months, spending hours on choreography and costuming.

Judging such a talent contest is based on ... well, nothing. There are no criteria. How do you compare a tango to disco? A 10-year-old singer to a rock band? A juggler to a yodeler?

You can’t.

So my instructions were “to be funny.”

I learned it is a fine line that divides laughing at the expense of others to demolishing their esteem.

I started out with some pretty harmless comments. “This couple worked really hard on their dancing, choreography, and costumes. Aren’t the costumes great?”

The crowd stirred. So I strolled into more dangerous territory. “This couple wanted to dance in the worst way.... and as you can see they did.”

Grins and laughter. There is something intoxicating about the approval of a mob.

I grew more daring. “Obviously they are mimicking the dancing in Grease, the Musical. Unfortunately, they look like they were dancing in grease, the lubricant.”

It’s a subtle thing when the pack turns on you. I should have caught the change from chuckles to murmurs. But I plowed on.

“This guy dances just like Michael Jackson. Too bad it is like the Michael Jackson who’s been dead for a year.”

Boos are scary.

I mumbled through the final pairs, damning them with faint - but safe - praise.

After the showcase finished, I stumbled off the podium and headed for an exit, passing a gantlet of accusing stares. As the door loomed in sight, my path was blocked by a half dozen young ladies who identified themselves as friends of the subject of my comments.

“Mister, how could you say such terrible things?” Her face was pretty, but her nails were pointed. “He may not be the best dancer on the planet, but you just kept going and going.”

Her friend took up the battle. “He worked for weeks on his dancing, and thought he was really good. You embarrassed him in front of all his friends. You crushed him.”

Surrounded by harpies, I backpedaled. I rushed back to my fellow judges and told them of my distress. They laughed. Heartily.

One, a professional radio personality, told me how he dealt with it. “I don’t care,” he laughed. “You’re just too nice a guy.”

I finally made it outside, and swore I would never again sit in judgment of a fellow human being.

Of course at the Showdown the judges do not make public comments. They even get to keep their backs to the audience.

But that doesn’t make their jobs easier. Just more anonymous.

So if anyone asks you to judge a talent contest, offer to juggle, yodel, and tap dance instead. It will be easier.