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Tuesday, September 11, 2007

For a night, I was a God.........

There are precious few things on God's green Earth that are better than being on an NFL field before kickoff. Just being in such close proximity to all of that testosterone, ignites a very deep carnal "caveman" feeling inside of me. I feel like I could run into the locker room, suit up, put a helmet on and get out there and play myself. It's a unique and intoxicating rush, and after you experience it one time, you crave it. I've got my pregame field experience down to a science. I usually arrive 2 hours before the game. The first thing I do when I get on the field is walk around the entire thing, twice. I like to look up into the stands at people, and pretend I'm better than them. Then about 45 mintues before game time, I know that the players will be coming out onto the field from the tunnel. So I position myself by the tunnel exit, and stand right where they come out. I just like to feel the Earth rumble underneath me while they run by me, high fiving each other and jawing at the players from the other team. Along with the players giving me that rush, the crowd goes CRAZY when they emerge. There's just something about hearing 60,000 people erupt in applause and insanity. After the players go onto the field I walk all the way down to the opposite end of the field to stand 5 yards away from them while they practice. The only way I can describe it is if you were able to watch Roman Gladiators "practice" killing each other will full force and weaponry. It's intense. It's powerful. It's FOOTBALL.

The only drawback to being on the sidelines is that there are always the old rich folk prowling around on the sidelines. They're usually the owners family or were invited by someone within the organization. They don't get it. They stand around and huff and puff and get irritated when the camera crews and other sideline personnel need to do their jobs. Those jobs usually include running audio and video cable all over the place, running from one end of the field to another in order to take that perfect picture of a player, and other things. These old rich people should stay in the luxury boxes.

About 10 minutes before kickoff I sprint up the stands to the press elevator, and take it up to the press box. The press box is like heaven. And not only because it's a mile high. As soon as you step off the elevator into the press area, you are greeted with smiling faces and a the aroma of freshly made gourmet food. The first floor of the press area is a rather tight area. So it is not uncommon to bump into some sort of celebrity while you are up there. And I mean literally bump into them. I've met many a sports broadcaster, actor and musician while I've been up there. And the best part about it is that I'm allowed and given the same privileges and perks as they are. Last night, Beyonce was in the press box. But the person I was most excited to meet is a man simply known by his last name. Ditka. When I realized that Mike Ditka was doing the TV broadcast, I was like a kid in a candy store. I wanted to sneak my head in the booth just to take a look at this American Icon. However once I realized that he was in the middle of doing a live spot for ESPN, I made my first of many trips to the buffet line.

The buffet line in the press box is nothing less than spectacular. 5-star meals for FREE. Last nights pre-game meal was a Mexican feast. Complete with chicken enchiladas, rice, beans, and…….Caesar Salad? I guess it's the only salad they serve at the stadium. Once you get past the main course section, you find yourself standing in front of the part of the buffet line that requires the most decision making: The deserts. Popcorn, pie, cake, cookies, and jello. It's all there in abundance. Take one. Take 4. It doesn't matter, because in the press box you are a GOD. I'm pretty sure it's all calorie free by the way, but don't quote me on that. For my first trip through the line, I took it easy and only grabbed a piece of the swiss chocolate pie. Realizing I didn't have enough arms and hands to grab a drink AND a cup with ice, I "roughed it" and took a warm soda can.

From there, you walk to your assigned seat, where yet again, you are given privileges and perks that the "commoners" out in the stands have to pay for. You receive a copy of the GameDay Program, a stat sheet for the game, and some other media related items. By the time you thumb through the magazine quickly and take your first few bites of food, the game gets underway. And this is where the only drawback of the press box takes place. The "everyone must remain quiet" rule. You see, the press box is filled with about 100 writers. So the unspoken rule is that there is no cheering, clapping, cell phones or any other potential disrupting activities allowed. There's usually one or two rookies who are on the phone with their "boys", being loud and obnoxious. Or there is that one guy who came with his friend that works in the press, that doesn't get it. This guy is easily spotted by his "F*CK (Insert opposing team)" shirt and his constant yearning to high five whoever's next to him after a big play or even a not so big play. By the end of the first quarter, that one guy is usually sent off to the overflow press seating area, which is sealed off from the rest of the press and on a completely different floor.

Halftime in the press box at a 49er game is known for one thing. Chili cheese dogs. And I'm not talking about little Oscar Meyer wieners here. I'm talking huge ballpark franks. Complete with your choice of chili, cheese, ketchup, mustard, onions and a sesame bun. I've been going to the 49er game as a press box participant for over 7 years now, and EVERY game they serve chili cheese dogs at halftime. Last night was special though. Because last night, I happened to get in line right next to the man, the myth, the legend, the DITKA. I tried playing it cool like I didn't care or notice, but I don't think I was convincing. I left him alone while he put together his plate of food. Which because he is DITKA, consisted of 318 Chili cheese dogs covered in onions, ketchup and mustard. And that was just what he held in one hand on one plate. His other plate had 19 swiss chocolate pies. Not just 19 pieces, but 19 PIES. After he grabbed his food, he lifted two kegs of Diet Coke onto his back with his right leg, and carried them upstairs to his booth. But before he got inside, I stopped him. As I stood there, I realized that he was contemplating giving me a right hook that would have knocked me through the stadium, right into the Oakland Colesium 20 miles down the road. But I gathered my composure and said "Coach, can I get a quick picture with you?" DITKA said "sure". And by "sure", I knew he meant "the only reason I'm doing this is because you mean nothing to me". I took my picture with DITKA. It was glorious. And my night was complete, even though the game was at halftime.

The 49ers ended up winning the game in a thrilling last second Touchdown run. But the glow I had after the game from my experience at the game, had nothing to do with the actual game itself. Everyone should get to have this experience once in their lifetime, even if they aren't a football fan. Because everyone enjoys being treated like a deity, even if only for a few short hours.

posted by Ricky @ 11:13 AM

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