An elastic chin strap constricted the jowls of 275-pound Jason Yurechko. It held in place the plastic bull horns he was wearing on top of his frizzy red clown wig. A tight black Bulls jersey was stretched over his belly, and he wore red-and-black Zuba pants. Flushed, clammy, and breathing heavily, he yelled “Yeah!” to no one in particular. Then he farted.
“Gentlemen, this is an audition!” yelled Luvabull choreographer Kim Tyler. “This is serious.” The room quieted down as Tyler taught the aspiring Matadors a short dance routine to the Village People stadium anthem “YMCA.” Melissa Yurechko gripped her purse in a far corner of the room. “This is my role,” she said. “I sit back. I watch him. I stay out of his way.”
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For their second routine the sound track was “Maniac,” the Flashdance standard. The men ran in place, waved their arms, rolled their heads like skanky club dancers, and freestyled. Most were visibly tired after doing it once, hunched over with hands on knees, headbands dripping wet, a hazy mist of perspiration hanging in the air. Mercifully, a beverage break arrived.
Delulio survived the initial round of cuts. Several humbled dancers gathered their belongings and headed home when their numbers were not called. The remaining men danced again, then were ushered out of the audition suite as Bulls staffers deliberated over the final decision. Outside, in the small break room, Yurechko continued his unending shtick while his wife sat stoic.
Core abruptly announced, “If I don’t call your number, please leave.” Polite, nervous laughter followed. “But please come back next year,” she added. As numbers were called, the newly anointed Matadors entered the suite to enthusiastic applause. Bannon was in, as was Paige. So too were Delulio, Beers, Yurechko, and nine others.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photos/Lloyd DeGrane.
