During the opening credits, we hear Jeremy and Natalie counting all the people who have heard a rumour, except they won't tell us what the rumour is. As the scene fades in, they are striding through the Sports Night corridors, and they both admit to being nervous, and they think they're justified because of the three people they've counted so far who heard the rumour -- that's including themselves. Elliot passes by, and Jeremy asks if he's heard the rumour, and Elliot says he has without even asking which rumour Jeremy might be talking about. This brings the total to four but, as Jeremy says, that's only counting the people they know have heard the rumour, whatever that means -- I don't think you'd be counting the ones who haven't heard the rumour, Jeremy. Oh, wait. I guess that's why it was supposed to be funny. "What exactly does the ratings expert do?" says Jeremy, who is pretty stupid sometimes for an ostensibly smart guy. Natalie says to Jeremy -- and, by extension, the already insulted audience -- that presumably he raises the ratings, and as they walk through the control room they get into this whole discussion about how their ratings are fine and that they consistently finish third, and at this point you'd think might dawn on these dingbats why a ratings consultant has been hired. But, as Jeremy says, "The only way we could possibly do better is if we came in first or second. It's not like we're those clowns in fourth." I'm going to go out on a limb and say the pecking order is ESPN, Fox, CSC, then, who? ESPN2? Yeah, right. ESPN2 would kick CSC's ass. ["Based on the World's Strongest Man reruns alone, dude." -- Sars] So, based on the fact that they consistently finish third, they deem it illogical that a ratings consultant would be hired. "And yet, four people have heard the rumour," says Jeremy, as they walk into another corridor. "You guys hear about the rumour?" says Dave. "Five people!" groans Jeremy, throwing his hands in the air. Dave is talking to a couple of extras, so I'm assuming they also have heard the rumour, yet Jeremy doesn't bother to include them in his Paranoia Tally, since the extras and Lesser Tertiary Characters are not considered people on this show.
Natalie and Jeremy stomp into Dana's office. Dana, fiddling with an earring, is wearing tight black leather pants and a black leather midriff-revealing vest that displays ample cleavage. Natalie looks a little startled. Jeremy says, sounding pleased, "Hello." Natalie says, "Dana, what are you wearing?" and Dana says, "Do you like it?" and Natalie says, "As a matter of fact, I do," and I wish we could have had a shot of Jeremy's reaction. Except he's too busy staring at Dana's breasts as she bends over to fiddle with her boots. Dana starts asking some football-related question. Natalie starts to answer and then says, "Excuse me, Dana," and she turns to Jeremy, who has been very quiet, and says, "Sweetie, Dana can tell when you're staring at her breasts," and Jeremy protests, all flustered, even though it's obvious he was, and it's even more obvious that's what they were out there for. He says, "Okay, my eyes actually went there but now I'm fine," and smoothes out his tie. He figures after the show she's going to an important business meeting. Natalie tells Jeremy that Dana's going to a bachelorette party, and asks Dana, "Why are you wearing those clothes?" Dana says she wants to look less like Judith Light from Who's the Boss. Actually, she explains that the party has a biker chick theme and that they're being escorted to the party on Harleys. I really hope Dana is prepared for the yells of "Show us your tits!" and other various biker catcalls as she indulges her little motorcycle fantasy, but hey. It's her life.
Anyway, this is all explained as Dana starts walking through to the control room and Joanie and Chachi follow. Eventually, they remember why they wanted to talk to her in the first place. Dana says the rumour isn't true. "Five people have heard the rumour," offers Jeremy. "Five people are wrong," says Dana. They enter the control room. People start in with the sports show lingo. "Oakland's up," says Dave, turning around for the first time ever. Dana has her back to him. "Thank you, Dave," she says, without turning around, "stop looking at my ass." Maybe there should be rumours flying around this place that they were going to bring in a professionalism consultant.
On the set, Casey is being lint-brushed by a fluffer and he says, "The point is, it can't be any old first date. The bar here is very high." At first, I thought he was talking to Dan, but Dan's not there. He's talking to the fluffers, who of course get no lines anyway and are not even allowed to roll their eyes at Casey's preening. Casey has the gall to say the bar is high not so much because it's his first date with her, but because it's her first date with him. "I'm known in some parts for my first date. In certain parts I have a rep." You know, I've heard lots of locker-room talk in my time and I have never ever heard a guy brag about what a good first date he is. Nor do I ever expect to. Dan comes up and says, "Listen to this..." but Casey wants Dan to tell the fluffers about his street cred. Dan laughs. "No, tell them about my rep!" Dan says, "You don't have a rep. You don't have street cred. Your last date was fourteen years ago and you ended up with a marriage and a divorce." The fluffers' eyes go from Dan to Casey, and they decide this would be a good time to leave and they silently scurry off with their lint brushes and pancake makeup and still no lines.
Casey finally lets Dan tell his story. "What's the best news I could have?" asks Dan. "You won a four-week vacation to someplace else?" Dan says, "The best news I could have for me." Casey says, "You got invited to Hillary Clinton's fund-raising breakfast." This is right -- that was a pretty amazing guess on Casey's part, I will admit. "Turns out it wasn't that hard!" says Dan. "You know what you have to do?" says Dan. "Write a cheque for a thousand dollars?" ventures Casey. Right again. "But not everyone was given that opportunity," says Dan. In mocking amazement, Casey says, "They asked you for a thousand dollars and you gave it to them. That's incredible, Danny." "I was picked, Casey. I was identified." "Yes, it's called being a mark," says Casey. Dan says he gladly gave his money to a good fight, and Casey says Isaac is having enough trouble with the network without Dan getting into a good fight. I'm not sure what that means. Dan then says it's not about politics. In what way a fund-raising breakfast during a Senate campaign is not about politics, I'd like to know. Casey points this out, but Dan starts talking about him and Hillary and a connection. Casey is confused until he figures out Dan has a crush on Hillary Clinton, and here we go with the sorriest Seinfeld-esque plot I have seen on this show. Let me just say Hillary Clinton is no Marisa Tomei. I really can't get into the insipid specifics here, but Dan says that it's not just a physical thing, it's a cerebral thing, and that he'd like to have an intelligent conversation with her. "She will say, 'My goodness. That Dan Rydell is such a bright young boy. So much more than sports scores and highlights. I think I'll make him my gentleman friend.'" I think Dan has thought about this way too much and that his need to be liked by women, all women, is now approaching pathological levels. "And here's to you, Mrs. Robinson," says Casey. I guess I shouldn't make too much fun of Dan's obsession with the First Lady. I myself once commented that Queen Noor of Jordan is "pretty hot." But she is.