Part of my job for ESPN is running more important people wherever they need to go as fast as I can without running over pedestrians, especially children.
During the Mid-Ohio race weekend, I was sent by our producer to Milka Duno's garage to pick up her PR person and personal camera man. I had heard discussion earlier of "If we know the footage is out there, we need to show it," but I had no idea what it was about (they don't include low men on the totem pole in those kind of talks).
So, while on another assignment with my production coordinator and fellow runner, we whisked Katherine, the PR person, and Raul the cameraman back to the television compound in the middle of the track infield.
During our cozy ride on a golf cart (yes, five adults and a video camera on one golf cart), I discovered Katherine was from Milwaukee, and her best friend lives in Grafton. Small world.
I escorted Katherine and Raul into the editing truck and dropped them off into the fantastic hands of our editors, producers and production assistants. I gave Katherine my phone number so I could take her and Raul back to the garage when they needed.
While they extracted whatever footage they wanted out of Raul's camera, I was off running another errand for another important person. Then, the skies opened up and anything that was not under a tarp or a roof (including myself) became instantly drenched.
I learned a valuable lesson that day: rain becomes painful when speeding through it on a golf cart.
As the thunder and lightning began to inch closer, who calls? Katherine.
I'm thinking to myself, "Self, how on Earth are you going to transport these two people and their camera that's worth more than my life without making a complete scene and embarrassing the company?" Quite the dilemma.
While picking up the duo from the garages earlier in the day, it was nearly impossible to maneuver a golf cart between the crowds of people with pit passes, taking photos of empty trailers with their hero's pictures enlarged on the sides. When my production coordinator said, "Take Marty's rental car," I laughed, imagining how I would take a full-size sedan through the throng of unaware people.
But a car was better than subjecting our guests to the stinging ride of a golf cart (as well as the potential electrocution).
So, I ran a garbage bag to Raul to cover the camera (classy, I know), and brought our play-by-play man Marty's Infinity rental car as close to the edit truck as I could. By this time, God was having a heckuva time dumping buckets on our heads, and the lightening looked like it was going to strike the media tower at any moment.
I drove Katherine and Raul to the entry to the garage area, flashed my credentials to the angry sopping volunteer gate guard, and drove without stopping straight to the number 23 car garage. All of the pedestrians I was worried about were smart enough (miraculously) to be under the hospitality tents provided by the teams.
I was curious as to what the footage was that was so crucial to our broadcast. I found out during the race, while in the truck with the producer and the director, what the footage was:
http://sports.espn.go.com/broadband/video/videopage?categoryId=null&brand=null&videoId=3497542&n8pe6c=2
I saw the footage on Sportscenter, ESPNNEWS, Headline News, CNN and just about everywhere else you might find sports coverage. And it was the only thing anyone mentioned about the race!
When you first sign up to do something like I'm doing for ESPN, you really do feel like a lesser class of employee even though everyone tells you that if you weren't there to do your job, just like anyone else in the compound, the show would be a disaster.
I didn't believe them until I saw the footage for myself.
July 30, 2008
A Step Towards Making It
I understand that I’ve been lacking in my blog updates, but I hope my excuse is good enough to earn your good graces. I’ve been working for ESPN for several weekends, helping to cover Indy Racing League races around the country. Yes, ESPN: The hallowed four letters that I’ve been chasing since I was old enough to stay up to watch the 11 p.m. Sportscenter.
It was a whirlwind start, an e-mail that asked “can you be here tomorrow?” And of course, my answer was yes, yes and yes. I ran around my apartment, screaming and waving my scraggly, pale arms around my head. After two months of unreturned phone calls and e-mails, of feeling like a failure, a friend had given me the “hook up” with the company I’ve been striving to work for my entire pre-teen and young adult life.
The experience was everything I had hoped it would be. A whole compound on the track infield of people who love sports and who love making sports happen. Every person knew their role and everyone was qualified for their job (a rare double occurrence, if you’ve ever set foot in a workplace).
I made my mistakes (my nickname is Crash), but I guess I worked hard enough to be a runner for ESPN for five of the last seven races of the season. I’ll be posting schedules, running water bottles, chauffeuring to and from the media center and making sure no vulgarities from the drivers make it onto the air.
In the process, I’ll be learning production skills from some of the top people in the business. These are people who work on the World Series, the Super Bowl and the Olympics by request.
The only down side is the lack of guarantee. I’m working four days a week until the beginning of September, making about as much money as I’ll be putting into my gas tank to make it to the gigs. Will my hard work turn into a full time job with the World Wide Leader? I don’t know. No one knows. But it can’t hurt to try to make the most of it. This is my chance to make my dreams happen.
It was a whirlwind start, an e-mail that asked “can you be here tomorrow?” And of course, my answer was yes, yes and yes. I ran around my apartment, screaming and waving my scraggly, pale arms around my head. After two months of unreturned phone calls and e-mails, of feeling like a failure, a friend had given me the “hook up” with the company I’ve been striving to work for my entire pre-teen and young adult life.
The experience was everything I had hoped it would be. A whole compound on the track infield of people who love sports and who love making sports happen. Every person knew their role and everyone was qualified for their job (a rare double occurrence, if you’ve ever set foot in a workplace).
I made my mistakes (my nickname is Crash), but I guess I worked hard enough to be a runner for ESPN for five of the last seven races of the season. I’ll be posting schedules, running water bottles, chauffeuring to and from the media center and making sure no vulgarities from the drivers make it onto the air.
In the process, I’ll be learning production skills from some of the top people in the business. These are people who work on the World Series, the Super Bowl and the Olympics by request.
The only down side is the lack of guarantee. I’m working four days a week until the beginning of September, making about as much money as I’ll be putting into my gas tank to make it to the gigs. Will my hard work turn into a full time job with the World Wide Leader? I don’t know. No one knows. But it can’t hurt to try to make the most of it. This is my chance to make my dreams happen.
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