STEILEN: Right away I thought it was a great premise and that it could be something special. But I also assumed I wouldn’t be the only one going after the story. I started making some calls. First he called his friend and partner on past projects, Todd Garner, a seasoned Hollywood veteran.
MEET THE REAL TAG BROTHERS
TODD GARNER: I thought immediately it could be a movie. Once
I had tried to buy the rights to The Full Monty, and I originally thought of TAG as a Full Monty kind of story — a group of friends finding ways to stay connected, to help each other out. In that first week after the article hit, Steilen, through his brother Nate, had managed to connect with the Tag Brothers — offering to guide their project. G-Prep, again, was the common denominator.
STEILEN: They told me they already had two offers, and I knew
people were going to start throwing money at them. I said, “Guys, I think it’s a really funny idea. I can’t write you a check, but if you give me time, I think I can put a pitch together and maybe sell it to a studio.” The truth is they didn’t know me; they didn’t have any reason to trust me other than the fact we’re connected by our hometown, shared friendships, schools.
AKERS: We had a number of options, who to go with. We de-
cided that if anybody could tell our story, it would be Mark.
MARK MENGERT is a machinist at a local Spokane shop, where he works with his brother Dan. He and his wife Christy live in Spokane. A BROTHER SAYS: “Mengert has this misguided belief that he’s the best tagger out of all of us. He’s even got this championship belt, like for boxing or pro wrestling. Even though he’s kind of a quiet guy, and generally not one to seek out the limelight, when it comes to tag, he can be a little boastful.” (Chris Ammann)
STEILEN: Our shared culture definitely informed how the movie
came together. That let me bring a level of candor to it; I never worried about telling them the truth. Still, for them, it was a big leap of trust, like, “Steilen’s a Prep guy. Let’s give him a chance.” That could have cost them some dough. Soon they did things few groups of friends ever even contemplate: They formed an LLC, signed away the rights to their life stories, hired an entertainment attorney and retained the services of a Hollywood talent agency. They got a payment up front (relax — nobody’s retiring) and perhaps more if the film pulls a Titanic at the box office. Meanwhile, Steilen had a production team in place, a story and even managed to get Will Ferrell and Jack Black tentatively attached to the film. That was plenty to open a lot of doors. Still, in Hollywood, they have something kind of like Catholic purgatory, where ideas for movies go to find out if they’ll actually ever get made. That’s where TAG landed.
BRUYA: Even after we all signed contracts, they were saying it’s Still silly after all these years: Bill Akers (left) and Mike Konesky at Gonzaga Prep. 1983 GONZAGA PREP YEARBOOK PHOTO
AMMANN: Mengert was so proud. “Best tagger ever!” AKERS: As Mengert walked out of the bathroom, he was
facing the table where they’d been sitting. They’re gone, he’s confused, looking around for them. I tap him on the shoulder from behind and say, “You’re it, Huckleberry!”
CAFERRO: There was nobody left to tag — we had all gone out
still a slim chance that this is going to become a movie. We all had pretty low expectations.
STEILEN: I told them we’re all going along for a ride. One out of KONESKY: We had already sold our life rights, which gave them
18 months to do something with the project. We went through a couple cycles like that.
STEILEN: Garner and I went out and pitched it — it’s like a little
road show to the studios. A couple of studio execs had seen the article. I’d worked out the story pretty tightly, and we got a few interested right away.
MENGERT: They all wanted to come back in if I promised not to
DENNEHY: None of us thought anything would come of it. All of
Meanwhile, back in Hollywood, Steilen’s role that first day would turn out to be just the kind of providence tag needed. Even though the Tag Brothers thought all the sudden attention was mostly a lark, as he read the Wall Street Journal story that morning, Steilen did not.
Diocesan priest, serving in the Diocese of Helena. His parish is in Columbia Falls, Montana, at St. Richard Church. A BROTHER SAYS: “If any one of us hasn’t been tagged in a long time, Sean will take it upon himself to make it happen. He’ll always think creatively to get a good laugh. As a Catholic priest, Sean is in a unique — and vulnerable — position on Sundays, and has been tagged after mass. Sean really cherishes the game.” (Mike Konesky)
a million gets to the goal line, so you gotta enjoy the process.
to my truck to watch through the window. Mengert put the Bullpup head back on and flipped us off for a nice photo opp. tag them, so I did and we all had another beer. We’ve had some pretty good betrayals, but that one ranks right up there. That was a dirty, dirty maneuver.
SEAN RAFTIS is a Roman Catholic
sudden we hear there’s an out-and-out bidding war. Multiple bids. Then you’re going, “Wow. That’s amazing.”
KONESKY: It came down to New Line and Dreamworks — as in
Steven Spielberg Dreamworks. In the end we picked New Line because their treatment showed that they got that the game is not only about tagging buddies, but staying in touch as we all get older. ...continued on next page
PATRICK SCHULTHEIS is chairman of
the corporate department at the law firm of Wilson Sonsini Goodrich & Rosati, and managing partner of its Seattle office. He lives in Kirkland with his wife Dianne. A BROTHER SAYS: “Pat’s one of the one of the most elusive players — a very hard guy to tag. He’s also the most intense. Before February, he will gather his support staff at his law firm and say, ‘If you turn on me, I’ll fire you.’ And he’s semi-serious.” (Bill Akers)
JUNE 7, 2018 INLANDER 29