In a dimly lit ballroom at the Langham Huntington Hotel and Spa in Pasadena, Calif., Jerry Seinfeld stands in an alcove, chatting with friends away from the hustle and bustle of the NBC winter press tour party, in which reporters are elbowing in their final questions before running off to file for the night.

One reporter sidesteps a throng of critics surrounding an animated Chevy Chase, Joel McHale and Zachary Levi, and creeps up to Seinfeld’s people, who are standing guard at the entrance.

“Excuse me, but is it all right if I ask Mr. Seinfeld two quick questions?” the man asks.

The woman’s eyes flicker down to the reporter’s badge, “Bullz-Eye.com,” and back to his bespectacled eyes.

“No, I don’t think so … Mr. Seinfeld is very tired, he’s had a long day,” she finalizes. My how times have changed.

When Seinfeld championed a series about life’s little qualms in 1989, he was an unheard of stand-up act struggling to stay afloat on a network that once debated burning his series off on Saturday nights.

NBC stuck with the comedian and his show about nothing, though, breaking the rules of network comedies with quick scene shifts, naturally occurring scenarios and egocentric characters week after week.

For four seasons Seinfeld struggled to crack the Nielsen ratings’ Top 100, until the show’s audience unexpectedly ballooned and pushed it all the way to the top, where the show continued to swell until its 76.3 million-viewer finale in 1998.

Nine seasons, over 20 major awards, nearly 60 more nominations, coined phrases like “yada, yada, yada” entering the lexicon, and the third most-watched finale in TV history later, and Seinfeld is still going strong in repeats, available in over 200 U.S. markets that represent over 99 per cent of the American viewing population.

It’s no wonder NBC worships the ground Seinfeld walks on.

There’s no denying the power of Jerry Seinfeld, who is to this day one of the most recognizable — and apparently unavailable — TV celebrities. Early on, before NBC’s 30 Rock became the name to beat at the Emmys, it recruited Seinfeld to help bolster ratings, setting off a chain reaction of stunt casting.

The man has also hosted Saturday Night Live three times, wrote, produced and starred in the popular children’s flick Bee Movie, and last summer, when Seinfeld co-creator Larry David announced a reunion on his current HBO series, Curb Your Enthusiasm, audiences took note — the finale snared 2 million viewers, the largest audience for the cabler in over five years and double that of the previous year’s finale.

But how will those numbers translate to Seinfeld’s first new TV project, The Marriage Ref?

It has been over a decade since the 55-year-old observer helmed a television series, but unlike his last “well done, little show” he wasn’t planning on being the face attached to the project, nor was he high on the show itself from its conception.

“I had this idea rattling around, and I was really trying to dismiss it,” he confesses, crediting his wife for pushing him to pursue the project.

Still, the comedian’s involvement is minimal at best. His star power recruited some of the biggest names in television to be guest panellists, including Alec Baldwin, Eva Longoria Parker, Larry David and Kelly Ripa, but Seinfeld himself is relying on unknown stand-up comic and host Tom Papa to carry The Marriage Ref, and will only appear on the show’s inaugural episode, and perhaps another if the series takes off.

“Tom is one of the most addictive human beings I have ever met,” pumps Seinfeld of his chosen ref. “I feel like a drug dealer at a school playground. And comedians are not easy to get along with.”

Papa’s job is simple. Three to five couples appear via satellite on each instalment of the series to present their long-standing marital arguments (like what to do with a taxidermy dog or whether it’s cool to park a motorcycle in the living room) to a panel of judges, who then crack jokes about the situation and give their recommendations to Papa. The host then makes a final decision and deems a “winner,” and the fight is deemed over.

Audience participation – real couples wanting to be on the show – is the supposed key to Marriage Ref’s success. Seinfeld admits that while he was doing his sitcom, fans had no issue with coming up to him and offering casting advice based on the people within their own lives.

“You would just have to go, ‘Yeah. Let me just get out of here,’” Seinfeld admits. “In this case, regular people are going to come up and say, ‘We would love to be on your show.’ And I think a lot of times they are going to be right.”

It’s an optimistic outlook for the comedian; this isn’t 1990. Marriage Ref’s weak premise, tough timeslot and behind-the-scenes star could be the exact opposite formula impatient programmers at the new NBC are looking for — this show won’t have four years to find an audience.

Perhaps stardom has gotten the best of Seinfeld over the years, but how this project will fare can best be summed up by the comedian’s attitude towards Conan O’Brien’s now-defunct version of The Tonight Show.

“You’ve got to hit the ball. I mean, they can’t hit the ball for you. They can only give you the bat. Show business, there’s no rules in show business. There are no refs.”


The Marriage Ref airs a special preview after the Olympic Closing Ceremony on Sunday, Feb. 28 before moving to its regular timeslot Thursdays, 10 p.m. ET, Citytv/NBC.

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