Space Jam 2

Trash talk. It’s never been my favorite, but thanks to Frank Kornet I knew how to turn it on when needed.

It was needed.

I booked a voice-over gig for the new NBA Live and Madden video games.

A weekend full of trash talk and pick-up games back at the Warner Bros. lot with fellow athletes. There I met an actor who, arguably, changed my life.

Meet Sheldon Bailey.

He played basketball at Miami, moved to LA, found a talent agency, began booking Nike commercials and was recently cast in two tv shows, one on Nickelodeon and the other on HBO. Welcome to LA.

His claim to fame? He's LeBron James’ body double.

He reminded me of myself. Minus the 6'8" frame and big, burly, man muscles. He was the type of guy who was always the first to raise his hand to read aloud in class, loved theatre growing up, was an athlete, and knew in his heart of hearts that the entertainment industry was where he wanted to be.

He asked about my background too. I told him about Ultimate Tag, but as far as experience on set goes, I was a full-time project manager at a record label. Not an actress.

He asked for my number and told me that he’d be more than happy to connect me with a few people.

The very next day I got a text from Sheldon.

“They are auditioning women’s basketball players to double some WNBA stars for Space Jam 2 at 1pm in North Hollywood. This is a call back, but I spoke to the casting director about you and he said that you can audition if you're available. Are you?”

I don’t think I blinked for two minutes. I kept rereading what he had written.

“SPACE JAM 2???”

But then I remembered…

1pm. I had to be on set for Tag at 1pm. I couldn't be at two places at once.

But for some reason, I knew I had to get there. I had to make this audition.

I showed up to the North Hollywood Rec Center at 12:00pm to look for a casting director I had never seen before and introduce myself. Maybe if I gave him a glimpse and sank a few J's for him I'd be able to give him just enough before I had to bail for Tag.

“Are you here for Space Jam?” a voice echoed from behind.

I turned around, “Yes, I am.”

“We’re not opening the doors til 1, but you’re in the right place.”

“Not till 1? I’m currently in this other show at Warner Bros. and I have to be THERE at 1. I was hoping to sneak in real quick beforehand.”

“Do you know Mike Fisher? He’s the casting director and will be here in about 30 minutes. I would try to wait for him if you could.”

Alright, sounds like this Mike guy is my only chance.

12:50pm rolled around. I was getting anxious. It was the first day of shoot blocking at Tag. I had to be there.

The door finally opened. A dashing 50-year-old man entered.

Mike.

I ran over to him. “Hi, Mike. My name is Nicole Kornet and…”

“Oh, I know who you are. Go tell that lady that I just added you. You’re not on the roster yet.”

“Is there any way I could shoot for you now? I have to be at Warner Bros. in 10 minutes for another show I’m on…”

“Nicole, if I were you, I’d stick around. You’re exactly the type of person we’re looking for in this role. The directors and producers will be here in about 15-20 minutes. And if you get this part, you’ll be making a lot more than whatever you’re making at Tag...”

Oh boy.

I had to wait. I couldn’t miss this.

I emailed my supervisor at Tag. A little white lie had to do…

“Running late from a dentist appointment. Will be there in an hour.”

(Sorry Kristi. Had to).

I walked over to sign my name in. 

Under each NBA and WNBA cast member, there was a list of about 6-7 actors with headshots, fast facts, and contact info.

The woman told me to just scribble my name down in the corner under the Diana Taurasi group.

I chuckled.

“This is an official callback,” I thought to myself. These people have headshots and resumes and I have a chicken-scratch name tag plugged in the margin.

When I gazed at the paper once more I noticed that the Diana Taurasi group had a 2:15pm time stamp next to the name. 

Uh-oh. It just turned 1pm, Tag has started, and my audition wasn’t for another hour. 

I didn’t know what to do. I really wanted this, but I had already signed another contract. I was supposed to be at Warner Bros. an hour ago.

There was only one thing that made sense at that moment — call mom.

I called her and told her my predicament. She wasn’t much help.

“Don’t lie, but don’t go. Follow your heart, but don’t miss your obligation.”

C’MON MOM. I NEED CLARITY.

I decided to stay. TV show call times say one thing but mean another. Plus, I’m an on-air referee. I’m not the MAIN talent. I could be an hour…or two…late.

One by one they called the groups up.

Before each group of six athletes started their basketball audition, they went one-by-one in front of all the producers and directors and slated their names, weight, height, position, and then babbled on and on about their biggest basketball accomplishments.

I couldn’t stop looking at the clock. I needed to be at Tag...

FINALLY, the Diana Taurasi group was called.

One by one, Diana Taurasi look-a-likes rose from the stands. If the real Diana Taurasi was in the gym that day I wouldn’t have been able to pick her out because these girls were spitting images. 

6’0” feet. 160lbs. Dark hair. Tight buns.

And there I was. A long-haired girl with a loose, flowing ponytail of platinum blonde.

They called out the names of the six girls, but didn’t say mine. I sheepishly walked over anyways and told the guy I was supposed to be in this group too. He peered at the paper once more, looked past all the headshots, and found my chicken-scratch in the margin: “Nicole Kornet (added)".

I chuckled again.

“Oh yeah! I see you here! You’re in this group, too."

He told me I would be the last to introduce myself after all the other girls went.

Fine with me!

The first girl stepped up. 

Then the next, and so on and so forth.

Each girl copied the next.

"Athlete. High school MVP. Played at so and so college."

All the while, something inside of me was bubbling inside. For missing 9 out of 10 shots in my shooting tryout, I was surprisingly confident. Finally, they got to the end of the line. My turn.

I decided to go a different route. Thanks to the credibility that a name like UCLA holds, I felt as though I garnered enough experience basketball-wise to make this interview process a little more fun.

“Hi, my name is Nicole Kornet and I played basketball at UCLA. I come from an athletic family. I'm not even the best one in that family anymore. My little brother is on the Knicks and my dad played for the Bucks. I got my first scholarship offer in 8th grade from Kansas. But my claim-to-fame was beating Russell Westbrook in PIG last summer.”

Everyone laughed.

The next day I got a call from Mike Fisher. The dashing Mike Fisher.

He told me that I was going to be a principle character in a major motion picture.

He told me I was going to be the White Mamba.

Tales of a C-List Actress: The Day I Met Adam Sandler

Sunscreen smothered his face. His daughter’s too. Red basketball shorts draped over his kneecaps, an untucked, unbuttoned polo on top, his arm around his girl, ready to ball.

Sunny Sandler, my new basketball protégé, and Dad were waiting on their new trainer to begin Lesson #1.

Let’s rewind a little. How does quarantine sound? Awful, I know. What was supposed to be a weeklong vacation with the parents in Nashville gave birth to a four month stay-cation. I hadn’t watched that many episodes of Everybody Loves Raymond in a long, long time.

Spirits were low. Blood-sugar was high. Hollywood was closed. LA was empty. I had nothing and no one drawing me back to the west coast. Until the phone rang.

Enter Mike Fisher. He’s done every sports movie you’ve ever liked— Remember the Titans, Moneyball, The Blind Side. You liked it? Mike made it.

“We’re looking for a ‘Nicole Kornet’ here in Philly. We’re making a basketball movie. Adam Sandler is the star. We shoot next month.”

Hot. Dog. 

Fast forward a few months.

The country is still on lock down...and hopes of filming in Philly are looking grim.

The phone rings again. It’s Mike.

“Looks like we’re going to push the basketball scenes off until next summer.”

Poop.

“BUT, I have another job for you in the meantime if you’re up for it...”

(Wait for it)

“Adam Sandler is looking for a basketball trainer for his daughter.”

Say less, Mike.

“Are you interested?”

AM I INTERESTED???

“He has a court at the house.”

Pinch me.

“I’ll give Adam your number. He’ll reach out to you.”

Fast forward.

Adam texted me. The most Adam Sandler sounding text only Adam Sandler would send.

I was at his house that night.

My favorite part about this man is his love for the game. So much so that most of our lessons turn into Adam and me playing 1-on-1. Or 5-5 with Sunny’s friends mid-sleepover. Or 1-1-1 with Adam’s dad-friends in heated games of 21. Yet the best comes when it’s just Adam and me battling it out in the backyard in a 7-game series for our ego’s sake.

For a 53-year-old man with a broken J, that thing is CASH. But let’s be real, so is mine. 😉

There was that one day, though…he beat me.

First to 4 wins. Games to 11. By 1s and 2s.

I destroyed in Game 1.

And Game 2.

Couldn’t buy a basket in Game 3.

Lost again in Game 4.

Found the stroke in Game 5.

Adam with the game winner in Game 6.

BACKED ME DOWN IN THE PAINT AND USED HIS MAN GUT TO OVERPOWER THE GIRL IN GAME 7.

“I had to!!!!” Adam laughed. “You better tell your dad!”

I would call my father after each lesson and explain which way, how badly, and which moves I singlehandedly used to take Adam to the woodshed.

Adam wanted to let my old man know he’s still got it. And he does.

We have a lot of fun. From horse with the security guard, to cheering on Sunny’s 3-point heaves, to jumping in the pool after a hot day, or joining for dinner after a late-night session— the Sandler family is just as advertised, the best in the business.

My time in LA has been hilarious. It’s why I feel as if I could never leave. It truly is the land of opportunity, even in the midst of a pandemic that has sent the city into a nearly year-long shutdown. But what always seems to bring this broken world together is the beauty of sports. Even as a C-list actress.

Tag, You're It

Céline Dion. I can’t get her out of my head.

My all-time favorite church here in Brentwood, CA sang Céline Dion’s “Ashes” last week. You heard that right— a Catholic Church singing Céline Dion.

Only in LA.

I was enthralled for two reasons:

1. Karla, the beloved brunette with an uncanny resemblance to Vanessa Hudgens took the lead.

2. Céline’s lyrics were right on the money.

I’ll give you a taste:

“'Cause I've been shaking

I've been bending backwards till I'm broke

Watching all these dreams go up in smoke

Let beauty come out of ashes

Let beauty come out of ashes

And when I pray to God all I ask is

Can beauty come out of ashes?”

My friend Kari gave me a book called “Humility” for my birthday. Some present, huh?? Not only was it a book… it was a book titled “Humility.” Was she trying to tell me something..?

The answer was yes. Yes, she was.

My role in the game of basketball is no longer that of "player." As much as I loved the game, I’ve always been a little more focused on my name…

I wanted to make sure my make-up looked just right, my knee sleeve was as white as my freshly Crest-white stripped teeth, and that a show was coming for the people who paid for one.

So yeah, I needed to read the book.

It's okay to love to perform and prepare your best-self, but there is a fine line that shouldn't be crossed. Is this all for you and your own personal gain? Or are you using the gifts God gave you to bring joy to others?

I’ve been in LA for four years now. I spent my first year post-grad broadcasting UCLA games, and this past year I’ve been managing bands at a record label. It has been nothing short of incredible. But if I'm being honest, I miss the rush of being in front of a camera. Working at a record label in LA with top-notch bands (yeah you, Rembrandts) is downright cool, but there is that little mustard seed inside of me that wants to sprout. It wants to be back on stage.

Join the club, right?

Not many want to sit at a desk all day. But as of late, I have felt that as each day passes I am missing out on my calling. I truly believe God gives us all unique gifts, and it's our job to use those gifts to spread His name. As much as I love the camera, I knew broadcasting wasn't where I was supposed to be... at least not yet. I knew I needed to take the record label job. That's where God wanted me next. Perhaps, it was just a stepping stone. It was an offer that allowed me to stay in LA and take the time to figure out my priorities.

I had a lot of questions.

And God had all of the answers...

Wrapped up in one... soon-to-be hit tv show... coming this fall...

UlLTIMATE TAG.

Yup. Tag. God answered my life's biggest questions... through tag.

I found it very fitting.

In typical, Nicole-like fashion, I received a text one day from one of my former UCLA staff members.

It read,

“Hi Debbie, I am hoping you might be able to help me - I am the Supervising Producer of a new prime-time sports competition series coming to Fox Network called Ultimate Tag. I am looking for a recurring star athlete cast for Los Angeles and would love a female basketball player who has a great personality. It is going to be recorded as live in front of a 600 strong audience with the atmosphere and set design not dissimilar to the Ninja Warrior experience… anyway, I just had one superhero star athlete female cast member drop out due to a knee injury and would love to replace her with someone with a basketball background.”

I texted back two words, “HECK YES.”

Now, let me tell you the story of what exactly I was walking into…

I had to go through a series of Skype interviews before I showed up at some warehouse in San Bernardino for what is known as “Games Testing.”

Imagine being asked to be a contestant on Ninja Warrior… and you can’t even do a pull-up.

The moment I walked into the warehouse and laid eyes on the obstacle course that was laid out in front of me I almost turned right back around and left right then and there.

But this was for Fox Network. This was for a prime-time tv series. This was for FAME.

Your hosts: JJ, TJ, and Derek Watt

I swallowed my fears and tied my shoes tight. 

Ramps. Warped walls. Trampolines, oh my.

A booming voice woke me up from my angst, “Who here has never been on our tramps before? I advise testing them out before we begin.”

“Crap, that’s me.”

Exactly all of the machinery that my father had advised me to stay away from my entire life to protect my basketball future was set before me in a warehouse.

I took one hard bounce off that trampoline and said, “Nu-uh.”

It wasn’t just the trampoline. It was the fact that I was supposed to use that very trampoline to catapult myself onto a pad located roughly 10 feet below me and 10 feet away from me in order to hit the magic button.

Everything within me screamed "no." Everyone around me screamed, “GO!”

And there I went. Flailing through the air. Picture a squirrel. A squirrel flying mid-air from one tree branch to the next, but replace that squirrel with a vision of a 6’1” amazon woman.

Mid-air I took a gander to my left. My fellow trampolinist was mid-front flip. I whipped my head to the right, another trampolinist mid-double backflip. And then me. On the center tramp, looking like a flying squirrel, just hoping to make the pad at all.

WHAP.

I MADE IT. Not graceful, not pretty, but safe. Or so I thought. My foot was contorted in one of the pad creases.

Holy cow the pain.

I now knew why my father advised me to never do these things while I was still playing basketball. 

It throbbed, but I couldn’t give up quite yet. Plus, I always exaggerate. I was fine. Kinda.

A few minutes later, the booming voice came back.

“Okay, everyone, gather ’round.”

I looked around me. I was the tallest by a landslide. These guys were all super freaky ripped and flexible and bouncy and with one glance I knew I didn’t belong.

The booming voice belonged to a man named Ryan. So I’ll refer to him as Ryan from now on.

Ryan described the course to us, told us the rules of the game, and strapped some helmets on to the first few contestants who were slated to start off the testing. 

At that moment, I spotted Dana. Dana was the lady who reached out to Debbie who asked me to be there in the first place.

She came jotting over and gave me a big hug.

“Now Nicole, I understand you might be freaked out right now. These guys are all professional stunt doubles and Parkour members. I don’t expect you to do what they do. We asked you here because you offer us something different.”

Dana, I wish you would have told me that 5 minutes earlier before I smashed my foot on a trampoline launch.

Regardless, that made me breathe a little easier.

A few minutes later, my name was called.

Time to shine.

And by that, I meant, “PLEASE DON’T HURT YOURSELF.”

My foot was in agony. I really jacked it up. But PRIME-TIME. FAME. FOX NETWORK.

SUCK IT UP, KORNET.

I thought I was going to cry. Honestly, I might have cried. It was all a blur.

That didn’t stop me, though. I came to test and testing I did. I tried to camouflage my gimp as best I could, but the 12 other contestants were literally flying off the walls and performing the coolest mid-air stunts I had ever seen that my baby gimp was the least of the producers’ worries.

Again, I was going against professional stunt doubles, Parkour members, and “tricksters” as they deemed themselves. I am a has-been women’s basketball player two years removed.

After testing, I had to call the squad.

Lindsey was first.

“The only way I make it on to that show is if they are looking for someone who is the opposite of what they’re looking for. Because that is exactly who I am.”

These crazy cats were flying off barriers. Flipping off walls. Catapulting themselves from platform to platform. I stayed on the ground, kept my two little feet on planet earth, and tried to tag like I’ve never tagged before.

It was a lot of fun. But after that day, I knew I wasn’t getting a callback. I was just proud of myself for giving it a whirl at all.

A week passed. No text. No email. Nada.

In showbiz, if you’re not getting a callback day of or next day, you’re probably not who they’re looking for…

The next day Dana’s number flashed on my screen. She was calling me.

“Hey Nicole, as you probably know, casting can be about a million different things. How many blondes do we have… what ethnicities are shown… how tall… how short.”

I wanted to interrupt her right then and there, “It’s okay, Dana. I know I sucked. Just cut me already.”

“Nicole, unfortunately, you will not be one of the members featured on the show…

Knew it.

“BUT we loved your personality so much that we decided to create a new role for you.”

My heart skipped a beat.

Is she asking me to be the host?? Could I be a commentator? What on earth are they going to ask of me??

“Nicole, would you like to be the referee?”

Humility, Nicole. Embrace humility.

Laugh with me, folks.

The ref.

For tag.

A show about tag. And they want me to be the ref.

I took a deep breath, and replied in two words…

“HECK YES.”

I chuckled in my head. The referee. THE REFEREE. 

Guys, you’re talking to the FIRST EVER ULTIMATE TAG REFEREE for Fox Network.

(Zoey was the second).

There will be three referees in total and we will appear on all ten episodes of the show. And SAG wages aren’t too shabby when you get a pay-per-appearance rate!

We'll be filming on the Warner Bros. lot for three weeks.

Just look at that 'fit.

Sometimes in life, you aren’t born to be the main act, but that doesn’t mean your role is any less important.

Refs are people too.

Céline Dion begged the question...

"Can beauty come out of ashes?"

And I, Nicole Kornet, am here to answer it.

Sometimes we won’t get the role we’ve always wanted. Sometimes we'll be the one watching from the stands. Sometimes we'll feel like we're stuck in limbo while everyone else is living their dream. But each person has a choice. No matter what, and no matter where we are in life, we have the choice to use the gifts God has given us in a way that spreads joy to others. If you embrace humility, live as Jesus taught, and serve (wave the flag), rather than be served, God will open the doors for you when the time is right.

If we do that beauty is all that can come out of ashes.

At the end of the day, we all need each other. We can't do everything ourselves. God gives us all different gifts for that very reason.

Every Jordan needs a Pippen.

Every J.J. needs a T.J.

And every Ultimate Tagger needs a woman in stripes.

Show Me The Meaning Of Being Lonely

Best $99 ever spent.

$44 concert ticket.

$40 fill-up.

$10 Big Mac.

$5 M&M New York, New York caramel apple.

Oh, to be on the road again!

I haven’t done this in awhile. Back in my hay day, ’16 in fact, being young, wild, and free, I made spontaneous trips like this every other weekend.

Now, at the ripe age of 24, being employed and all… how do the kids find time?

I like to joke with my mom about it frequently. I really don't think I'll ever grow up.

My boss strolled in at 2:55pm this Halloween, and proclaimed aloud, “Hey, just so everyone’s on the same page… we’re closing the office at 3 today.”

Oh, baby.

The opportunities are limitless with a few extra hours!

I had looked up tickets two weeks ago. I knew they were playing Halloween night. I knew I could make it if I had a head start. I knew they would be worth the traffic that would quickly make me question why I was doing this.

THEY being…

The Backstreet Boys.

Las Vegas.

One night only.

Not really.

But the one night that worked with my schedule.

Because I work in LA, remember?

I darted over to Sean’s apartment, woke him from his mid-afternoon slumber, and told him to “pack his cute denim button down and get in the car.”

He listens well. 

There’s something about seizing the day that really gets me going.

I know come children, piling finances, and old age spur of the moment 4-(with traffic)-6-hour drives to Vegas on Halloween won’t exactly be in the cards anymore.

But I truly believe there is nothing that can deter a can-do attitude. Not even a starting salary! If there’s a will there’s a way and that will should involve a secret savings adventure fund.

Pilfer $50 a month out of your paycheck for said fund and soon enough your world will be rocked, thanks to Frontier Airlines and Hotwire.com.

For me, it’s hard to stay put. Ever since I started my “big-girl job” I’ve realized LA really is a long distance away from Nashville… and Arkansas… and New York…

I get a little sad sometimes. I love those goofballs so much (my family) (that’s where they live), but I’m the type of girl who just wouldn’t do well in a Lexington, Kentucky (they live there too).

I’m the type of girl who needs Sin City a book-on-tape away.

To watch The Backstreet Boys.

My family may be thousands of miles away, but I have been given the opportunity of a lifetime.

I get to work for one of the best bosses in the world (not saying this because I know he’s reading) (saying this because of the laundry list of jaw-dropping work perks he provides) (that I will refrain from sharing, and save for another blog).

That's him. The curly-haired magic man on the left.

I just can’t seem to pass this up for a shorter commute to mom and dad’s.

Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you, though, mom!

I do a lot. A lot more than you might think. Not in the poor, poor pitiful me sense (catch that reference?) (I work in the music business now), but in the sense that I have so much fun I can’t think of who better to share it with than my family!

Lookin' good, Auntie Linda!

There’s something about experiencing some of the most amazing things with the ones you love most that just seems to make those memories that more meaningful.

I think about having a family of my own one day, and how fun it would be to see my little kiddos grow up down the street from their aunts and uncles. How full my heart would be seeing my little dudes meet grandma and grandpa for Jersey Mike’s Philly Cheesesteak Sunday specials after mass.

But I know myself. I know my unquenchable thirst for opportunity, growth, diversity, and deeper, bluer, colder, shark infested waters that seem to magically thwart my constant pangs for comfort, ease, and the Kornets.

I’m my mother’s daughter.

We love convertibles.

When the house is busy, loud, and cramped I’m happiest. I don't wanna be the family that misses out on all the action.

My boyfriend’s family is a two-hour drive away in San Diego. Sure, they may not be MY family, but they’re family nonetheless.

Of course that does not mean I am forgoing the value and importance of being around my own loved ones, but that’s what spontaneous trips and Red Eyes are for! I was built for this!

What I’ve learned most being lost distance for so long now is that life can take you in so many different directions whenever you least expect it.

There’s no need to wallow in loneliness when you never know how long that loneliness will last! You can’t be the creator of your own misfortune!

As soon as I graduated UCLA, I was dead set on staying in LA. But most of my best friends had graduated and moved back home, and I was about to start a brand new job in a gigantic city I had never experienced without close friends by my side each step of the way.

LA was all fun and games surrounded by a team of girls who loved me, but what was it going to look like without that team? When I no longer had that constant support system?

Well, I didn't have time to dwell in whatever that may have looked like that’s for sure! But I did have time to buckle down and dive into the next adventure that awaited me.

I feel like that’s when God smiles the biggest.

When you trust him.

100%. Wholeheartedly. As skeptical as you may be.

You never know what surprise is waiting for you around the corner.

My surprise started with S and ended with ean.

(Sean)

I remember a phone call I had with Kari. You all know Kari. No need to even mention Korver.

After I gave her the scoop on all things adulthood, she paused and said, “Nicole, I prayed for this. After I left, I prayed that someone new would come into your life and be that God-fearing, fun-spirited, person…” (that she always was for me).

She prayed, and God delivered.

Happy Halloween!

God delivered Dwight.

Instead of fearing the unknown and contemplating staying out west due to foreseen loneliness, I trusted His plan, and the dear Lord provided!

Sean and I have so much fun together.

So much fun that here I am, back at work, bright and early (9:45am) (best boss ever), from a 4am Larger Than Life stint in Vegas the night before.

He actually brought the denim!

Not as homesick, not even a little bit lonely, but instead fulfilled, inspired, and recharged, even if I am on the other side of the country and nowhere near any relative in sight.

California is my home and last-minute, spontaneous trips are my thing. Not because they're my only option, not because I don't have the vacation, but frankly, because, well… (plug your ears)

I WAAAAAAAAAAAAANT IT THAAAAAAAAAAT WAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!