RUNNING WITH THE BROADCAST BULLS
On football Sundays, most of us have the luxury of sleeping in and waking up just in time for our favorite 1 p.m. kickoffs. Our laziness stitches us to our couches, and we only get up to make a beer run or to answer the door for the pizza delivery guy. Not even champagne and caviar could compete with days like these.
But when we're just flipping on our TVs, a small number of deadline-driven and technically-trained broadcast bulls have already been preparing for our Sunday blessing, speaking an abbreviated language that none of us could understand. I know because I was in NASA's version of a sports control room last month at the Meadowlands for the Buffalo Bills vs. New York Jets game.
Here's how my day went working as a "runner" for CBS Sports.
9 a.m. - Because it was a late game starting at 4:15 p.m., the "call time" to be at Giants Stadium was 11 a.m. (CBS' early games start at 1 p.m.) So I woke up at 9 to give myself enough time to board a New Jersey Transit bus to East Rutherford, N.J.
10:40 a.m. - I arrived to the outside tarmac of Giants Stadium - and I found myself leaning to my right side to avoid the wind, but it was parked right there like the few tailgaters' cars dispersed around the area. So frigid on the face, but yet so right for football. The production manager who had set me up to work today told me to call the main production truck and speak with the broadcast assistants (BA's) to whom I would be reporting. I got in touch with one of them and he told me to head to the west end zone where the CBS Sports' trucks were stationed.
11:00 a.m. - With a little help, I finally discovered where I had to go. There were three trucks: one for the production executives; another for production assistants, graphics and audio; and a third for... food! Nothing too fancy there, just stuff to quickly grab with a napkin and consume in a couple bites, such as bagels and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. As I would come to realize later, this was not a show and dance; this was a show and get-it-done-on-cue-with-no-questions-asked environment.
11:05 a.m. - I entered my designated truck, but only one person seemed to notice. But I realized that my colleagues for the day were already hard at work, and I didn't want to disturb them. At the same time, it's always difficult to enter an unfamiliar situation and steer attention your way, especially at work because there is always office politics involved, and I was lowest on the totem pole. Because I was ignored, it was almost like they were indirectly saying, "We know you're behind us. Do whatever is asked of you - just don't step on our toes." [More on this later]. So I just made sure I wasn't too much in the way of people maneuvering around me, so I leaned against the back wall and observed the operations. Mostly, I was peering over the shoulders of one of the BA's and the graphics assistant (GA) who were working together. The BA was providing the GA with player information to input into an Apple computer, which would be presented later during the game broadcast. Also in the truck was another BA, two statisticians, two audio technicians and two other runners. While myself and the other runners were standing around awaiting assignments, the audio guys were moving around inside and outside the truck gathering wires and fine tuning their equipment. Everything seemed intense and overwhelming, but everyone remained loose and seemed to be accustomed to each other. There was an air of inner confidence between all of them; they all knew their respective roles and personalities, which created a culture of quick jabber and witty jokes. This was multitasking at its best.
12:15 p.m. - I headed out to the field with a BA and a runner to help put up several CBS Sports' banners around the stadium wall. When I stepped out from under the concourse, I noticed that near the 50-yard line, boys and girls from the NFL's Punt, Pass and Kick program were practicing. Some of the grounds crew were driving around golf carts transporting equipment to and from the concourse. Team officials were starting to lay out gear bags and set up Gatorade coolers by the team bench. It felt like one of those Sunday afternoons when you were a kid at the local recreation park and your parents were setting up their lounge chairs and food stations by the field before your game. Hard to believe that in only a matter of hours, the still and soothing scene would become a trash-talking animal house. We entered the first row and walked to the spot where we needed to place the first banner. There were four of them and they all had to face the sideline television camera. As we were tying them to the railings, a gust of wind knocked down a Pepsi sign on the field, one of several sponsors visible on the field. The BA remarked, "They have to be up right. You gotta make the sponsors happy."
1 p.m. - When I returned to the truck, the BA asked me to drop off two tickets for a CBS Sports client at "will call." When I got there, a representative said that they were not accepting any tickets left for anyone, even if it was CBS Sports-related. He then gave me directions to the Jets' ticket office, tucked deep within the concourse. On my way there, I was stopped about five times by security personnel in yellow shirts. You would think I was going to be stepping into Woody Johnson's private office, but I was headed to a tiny, temporary-looking, white-walled corner pocket of a side hallway. It looked like the room Keanu Reeves' was being questioned in by Agent Smith in The Matrix. I introduced myself to the couple of young fellas in suits typing away, stated my purpose, dropped off the tickets and dipped out of that two-dimensional cell block as quickly as possible. On to my next adventure - whatever that was.
1:30 p.m. - When I got back to the truck, one of the BA's said I could grab some lunch in the stadium clubhouse. When I got there, the place was starting to clear up, but I could see in the far corner that a classy buffet was still steaming. I ordered a prime rib sandwich with some side vegetables, then made my way to an open seat unaware that I had to pay for the meal, which was a hefty $13. (I thought the food was complimentary for the media.) As I headed back to the truck, the Buffalo Bills' team buses were pulling up to the stadium. Several minutes later, one by one the players started stepping off the bus and walking toward the concourse.
2:15 p.m. - For the next half hour or so, people in the broadcast booth were checking stats online of other NFL games going on, reading and sending e-mails to colleagues and gossiping amongst themselves. I noticed that humor was a significant part of the employees' personalities, using it frequently to lighten the pressure mounted in live national television. Finally, one of the BA's gave me my main responsibility for the game: He told me I would be reporting to an assistant director in another truck and helping him with various tasks.
2:45 p.m. - I met the assistant director who I learned was in charge of pre- and in-game production, which included nuggets and bumpers. (A nugget is a video package of various plays focusing on a team that airs during the game; a bumper is the same thing but it's layered with a song and appears in and out of commercial breaks.) While he and his assistant were cutting a pre-game package and reviewing bumper songs (featuring Green Day and Nate Dogg), the director was overheard on the intercom monitoring the production situation and prepping for gametime. For one of the bumpers, the assistant director noticed that at the end of the song, Nate Dogg rapped the words "shake your butt," so he went ahead and edited it out. That got me thinking about the FCC's increased censorship after the Janet Jackson "costume reveal" several years ago during the 2004 Super Bowl halftime show.
3:30 p.m. - The assistant director turned to me and said, "How much do you know about football?" He told me that he wanted me to log and time code any Jets pre-snap movement (shifting that goes on before the quarterback snaps the ball). I moved to the lower row of seats and sat between two men who helped coordinate instant replays, nuggets and bumpers. In front of me there were a bunch of small TV screens labeled VTW, VTX, PGM (actual program broadcast), DVD, VHS, Elvis (for nuggets and bumpers), Net, Score, Red and C1 through C8 (different game cameras).
4:02 p.m. - The director announced, "10 minutes to air."
4:11 p.m. - The director announced, "2:50 to go. Have a good show everybody."
4:14 p.m. - CBS was live on-air for the first time.
4:15 p.m. - Just after the kickoff, I logged the director's instructions word for word. Here is the running dialogue (its meaning in italics):
Buffalo lineups. (Put the Buffalo lineup graphic on screen.)
Ready 5. (Camera No. 5 get ready to go live.)
Take 5. (Camera No. 5 go live.)
Font. (Put graphics on screen.)
Music. (Get ready for CBS music.)
Hit it. (Roll CBS music.)
3 is changed. (The view for camera No. 3 has changed.)
Ready 3.
Take 3.
Map the font. (Graphics get ready to go on screen.)
Music.
Hit it.
Three is still game. (Camera No. 3 is still the program view.)
Ready 2.
Handoff. (Another way of saying "take.")
Camera 4 rolling. (Camera No. 4 is rolling and ready to go live.)
Two come wide. (Camera No. 2 pan out.)
Effect to 8. (Get ready for video effect.)
Roll it. (Video effect go live.)
Ready for commercials? (Director asks if commercials are next.)
Ready 2.
Take 2.
Take font. (Another way of saying "map the font.")
Push in. (Camera No. 2 zoom in.)
We're going to commercial?
They're going to punt again.
Map the font.
Hit it.
Music.
Rolling.
Only beautiful. (Director comments on the broadcast.)
[The broadcast cuts to commercials.]
4:23 p.m. - During the commercial break, the director checked in with several people over the intercom to make sure they were ready for the next live segment. The guys next to me were cutting several of the plays in the first segment that would be used later on in nuggets and/or bumpers.
4:42 p.m. - The director announced, "Willis McGahee is puking. Are you getting that?" The Buffalo Bills star running back had just scored a 57-yard touchdown, the longest in his career, but he looked winded afterwards and was on the sideline with his pads off throwing up. The director wanted to make sure the crew captured this behind-the-scenes moment.
5:03 p.m. - The assistant director asked me if I had any pre-snap movement plays that stood out. I said I had a few, which I starred, and handed them over. He took a quick read and said, "Nice job," a compliment not heard too often in this extremely deadline-driven business. For the next hour or so, I kept logging the plays as the constant demands of the director's voice blurted out of the intercom. It wasn't long until a headache overcame my focus and I needed a break from the noise pollution. I looked to my left and right, amazed at how focused the two men were sitting next to me. Not once did they glance over my way and strike up conversation, ask me about myself or if I had any questions for them. Sometimes I would make a comment about a play, and there would be no response from them. I felt like I was in a foreign country and I could almost hear their thoughts communicating with each other, saying, "First-timer on the job. What does he know?"
6:43 p.m. - The guy to my right finally responded to something I said by laughing, but he still didn't turn his head. I wasn't trying to steal the show or bother them; I was just trying to be friendly. But the environment is not conducive to chit-chatting. It's all about being a "bull worker" -- maintaining a one-tracked and tough-faced demeanor while taking continuous orders and grinding them out successfully with rapid-fire punches of electronic buttons, just like what was happening on the field of play.
7:03 p.m. - Final score: Bills 31, Jets 13. Over the intercom, the director said, "Safe travels home. Thanks guys." My hands were hurting, my back was stiff, my eyes were strained and my head was pounding. I needed a massage and hot bath in the locker room.
With no ride back to the city, I ended up waiting in the bus line for about two hours. In the meantime, looking around at all the fans who spent several hours breezing through beers and football bliss, I wondered if they ever came to appreciate the work of behind-the-scenes broadcast professionals. With a clear story lead in mind, I eagerly took out my phone and started writing my story. Moved by the experience, I will never watch a sporting event the same way again, thinking about that director yelling over the intercom.
On football Sundays, most of us have the luxury of sleeping in and waking up just in time for our favorite 1 p.m. kickoffs. Our laziness stitches us to our couches, and we only get up to make a beer run or to answer the door for the pizza delivery guy. Not even champagne and caviar could compete with days like these.
But when we're just flipping on our TVs, a small number of deadline-driven and technically-trained broadcast bulls have already been preparing for our Sunday blessing, speaking an abbreviated language that none of us could understand. I know because I was in NASA's version of a sports control room last month at the Meadowlands for the Buffalo Bills vs. New York Jets game.
Here's how my day went working as a "runner" for CBS Sports.
9 a.m. - Because it was a late game starting at 4:15 p.m., the "call time" to be at Giants Stadium was 11 a.m. (CBS' early games start at 1 p.m.) So I woke up at 9 to give myself enough time to board a New Jersey Transit bus to East Rutherford, N.J.
10:40 a.m. - I arrived to the outside tarmac of Giants Stadium - and I found myself leaning to my right side to avoid the wind, but it was parked right there like the few tailgaters' cars dispersed around the area. So frigid on the face, but yet so right for football. The production manager who had set me up to work today told me to call the main production truck and speak with the broadcast assistants (BA's) to whom I would be reporting. I got in touch with one of them and he told me to head to the west end zone where the CBS Sports' trucks were stationed.
11:00 a.m. - With a little help, I finally discovered where I had to go. There were three trucks: one for the production executives; another for production assistants, graphics and audio; and a third for... food! Nothing too fancy there, just stuff to quickly grab with a napkin and consume in a couple bites, such as bagels and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. As I would come to realize later, this was not a show and dance; this was a show and get-it-done-on-cue-with-no-questions-asked environment.
11:05 a.m. - I entered my designated truck, but only one person seemed to notice. But I realized that my colleagues for the day were already hard at work, and I didn't want to disturb them. At the same time, it's always difficult to enter an unfamiliar situation and steer attention your way, especially at work because there is always office politics involved, and I was lowest on the totem pole. Because I was ignored, it was almost like they were indirectly saying, "We know you're behind us. Do whatever is asked of you - just don't step on our toes." [More on this later]. So I just made sure I wasn't too much in the way of people maneuvering around me, so I leaned against the back wall and observed the operations. Mostly, I was peering over the shoulders of one of the BA's and the graphics assistant (GA) who were working together. The BA was providing the GA with player information to input into an Apple computer, which would be presented later during the game broadcast. Also in the truck was another BA, two statisticians, two audio technicians and two other runners. While myself and the other runners were standing around awaiting assignments, the audio guys were moving around inside and outside the truck gathering wires and fine tuning their equipment. Everything seemed intense and overwhelming, but everyone remained loose and seemed to be accustomed to each other. There was an air of inner confidence between all of them; they all knew their respective roles and personalities, which created a culture of quick jabber and witty jokes. This was multitasking at its best.
12:15 p.m. - I headed out to the field with a BA and a runner to help put up several CBS Sports' banners around the stadium wall. When I stepped out from under the concourse, I noticed that near the 50-yard line, boys and girls from the NFL's Punt, Pass and Kick program were practicing. Some of the grounds crew were driving around golf carts transporting equipment to and from the concourse. Team officials were starting to lay out gear bags and set up Gatorade coolers by the team bench. It felt like one of those Sunday afternoons when you were a kid at the local recreation park and your parents were setting up their lounge chairs and food stations by the field before your game. Hard to believe that in only a matter of hours, the still and soothing scene would become a trash-talking animal house. We entered the first row and walked to the spot where we needed to place the first banner. There were four of them and they all had to face the sideline television camera. As we were tying them to the railings, a gust of wind knocked down a Pepsi sign on the field, one of several sponsors visible on the field. The BA remarked, "They have to be up right. You gotta make the sponsors happy."
1 p.m. - When I returned to the truck, the BA asked me to drop off two tickets for a CBS Sports client at "will call." When I got there, a representative said that they were not accepting any tickets left for anyone, even if it was CBS Sports-related. He then gave me directions to the Jets' ticket office, tucked deep within the concourse. On my way there, I was stopped about five times by security personnel in yellow shirts. You would think I was going to be stepping into Woody Johnson's private office, but I was headed to a tiny, temporary-looking, white-walled corner pocket of a side hallway. It looked like the room Keanu Reeves' was being questioned in by Agent Smith in The Matrix. I introduced myself to the couple of young fellas in suits typing away, stated my purpose, dropped off the tickets and dipped out of that two-dimensional cell block as quickly as possible. On to my next adventure - whatever that was.
1:30 p.m. - When I got back to the truck, one of the BA's said I could grab some lunch in the stadium clubhouse. When I got there, the place was starting to clear up, but I could see in the far corner that a classy buffet was still steaming. I ordered a prime rib sandwich with some side vegetables, then made my way to an open seat unaware that I had to pay for the meal, which was a hefty $13. (I thought the food was complimentary for the media.) As I headed back to the truck, the Buffalo Bills' team buses were pulling up to the stadium. Several minutes later, one by one the players started stepping off the bus and walking toward the concourse.
2:15 p.m. - For the next half hour or so, people in the broadcast booth were checking stats online of other NFL games going on, reading and sending e-mails to colleagues and gossiping amongst themselves. I noticed that humor was a significant part of the employees' personalities, using it frequently to lighten the pressure mounted in live national television. Finally, one of the BA's gave me my main responsibility for the game: He told me I would be reporting to an assistant director in another truck and helping him with various tasks.
2:45 p.m. - I met the assistant director who I learned was in charge of pre- and in-game production, which included nuggets and bumpers. (A nugget is a video package of various plays focusing on a team that airs during the game; a bumper is the same thing but it's layered with a song and appears in and out of commercial breaks.) While he and his assistant were cutting a pre-game package and reviewing bumper songs (featuring Green Day and Nate Dogg), the director was overheard on the intercom monitoring the production situation and prepping for gametime. For one of the bumpers, the assistant director noticed that at the end of the song, Nate Dogg rapped the words "shake your butt," so he went ahead and edited it out. That got me thinking about the FCC's increased censorship after the Janet Jackson "costume reveal" several years ago during the 2004 Super Bowl halftime show.
3:30 p.m. - The assistant director turned to me and said, "How much do you know about football?" He told me that he wanted me to log and time code any Jets pre-snap movement (shifting that goes on before the quarterback snaps the ball). I moved to the lower row of seats and sat between two men who helped coordinate instant replays, nuggets and bumpers. In front of me there were a bunch of small TV screens labeled VTW, VTX, PGM (actual program broadcast), DVD, VHS, Elvis (for nuggets and bumpers), Net, Score, Red and C1 through C8 (different game cameras).
4:02 p.m. - The director announced, "10 minutes to air."
4:11 p.m. - The director announced, "2:50 to go. Have a good show everybody."
4:14 p.m. - CBS was live on-air for the first time.
4:15 p.m. - Just after the kickoff, I logged the director's instructions word for word. Here is the running dialogue (its meaning in italics):
Buffalo lineups. (Put the Buffalo lineup graphic on screen.)
Ready 5. (Camera No. 5 get ready to go live.)
Take 5. (Camera No. 5 go live.)
Font. (Put graphics on screen.)
Music. (Get ready for CBS music.)
Hit it. (Roll CBS music.)
3 is changed. (The view for camera No. 3 has changed.)
Ready 3.
Take 3.
Map the font. (Graphics get ready to go on screen.)
Music.
Hit it.
Three is still game. (Camera No. 3 is still the program view.)
Ready 2.
Handoff. (Another way of saying "take.")
Camera 4 rolling. (Camera No. 4 is rolling and ready to go live.)
Two come wide. (Camera No. 2 pan out.)
Effect to 8. (Get ready for video effect.)
Roll it. (Video effect go live.)
Ready for commercials? (Director asks if commercials are next.)
Ready 2.
Take 2.
Take font. (Another way of saying "map the font.")
Push in. (Camera No. 2 zoom in.)
We're going to commercial?
They're going to punt again.
Map the font.
Hit it.
Music.
Rolling.
Only beautiful. (Director comments on the broadcast.)
[The broadcast cuts to commercials.]
4:23 p.m. - During the commercial break, the director checked in with several people over the intercom to make sure they were ready for the next live segment. The guys next to me were cutting several of the plays in the first segment that would be used later on in nuggets and/or bumpers.
4:42 p.m. - The director announced, "Willis McGahee is puking. Are you getting that?" The Buffalo Bills star running back had just scored a 57-yard touchdown, the longest in his career, but he looked winded afterwards and was on the sideline with his pads off throwing up. The director wanted to make sure the crew captured this behind-the-scenes moment.
5:03 p.m. - The assistant director asked me if I had any pre-snap movement plays that stood out. I said I had a few, which I starred, and handed them over. He took a quick read and said, "Nice job," a compliment not heard too often in this extremely deadline-driven business. For the next hour or so, I kept logging the plays as the constant demands of the director's voice blurted out of the intercom. It wasn't long until a headache overcame my focus and I needed a break from the noise pollution. I looked to my left and right, amazed at how focused the two men were sitting next to me. Not once did they glance over my way and strike up conversation, ask me about myself or if I had any questions for them. Sometimes I would make a comment about a play, and there would be no response from them. I felt like I was in a foreign country and I could almost hear their thoughts communicating with each other, saying, "First-timer on the job. What does he know?"
6:43 p.m. - The guy to my right finally responded to something I said by laughing, but he still didn't turn his head. I wasn't trying to steal the show or bother them; I was just trying to be friendly. But the environment is not conducive to chit-chatting. It's all about being a "bull worker" -- maintaining a one-tracked and tough-faced demeanor while taking continuous orders and grinding them out successfully with rapid-fire punches of electronic buttons, just like what was happening on the field of play.
7:03 p.m. - Final score: Bills 31, Jets 13. Over the intercom, the director said, "Safe travels home. Thanks guys." My hands were hurting, my back was stiff, my eyes were strained and my head was pounding. I needed a massage and hot bath in the locker room.
With no ride back to the city, I ended up waiting in the bus line for about two hours. In the meantime, looking around at all the fans who spent several hours breezing through beers and football bliss, I wondered if they ever came to appreciate the work of behind-the-scenes broadcast professionals. With a clear story lead in mind, I eagerly took out my phone and started writing my story. Moved by the experience, I will never watch a sporting event the same way again, thinking about that director yelling over the intercom.
3 comments:
Followed you every step of the way...how else would I get in there...Your take on your experience was so entertaining. Hope the sandwich was worth it...
i was asleep for most of that day.
don't let them bull-y you around looking forward to the next chapter
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