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Shiny Shoes
Section 7 basketball playoffs continued last night at the Field House on the campus of Plattsburgh State. I watched girls play basketball for about seven hours from the best seat in the house, courtside as the games' public-address announcer. What a job! I'm paid to watch basketball, and I have the no-stress job of introducing the starting lineups and reporting the fouls to the crowd. What with the lack of stress I have plenty of time to observe what goes on around me.
Seated at my right at the "head table" were Rick Bruce and Goose Gagnon, official timer and shot clock official respectively, in high-pressure jobs, and they can't take their eyes off the basketball, lest valuable seconds be lost. And in the game of basketball mere seconds can be the difference between winning and losing. Seated to my left for much of the evening was Keith Kane, sports reporter for the Press-Republican. He obviously had to pay close attention to what was going on, because his notepad was full of numbers, numbers, numbers. It looked as though he were working on some mathematical formulas from the world of calculus, a world I know nothing about. So these hard-working men had no time to observe what I observed last night at the sectional basketball games.
Shiny shoes! When did shiny shoes worn by the referees become in vogue? Last night the refs, Tom Lacey and Andy Morelli, wore the shiniest shoes I have ever seen. They looked like they were vinyl. They somewhat reminded me of those black goloshes my mom used to make me wear when I was six years old. Oh, they looked great, very dapper! These aren't shoes you spiffy up with shoe polish. These are the kind of shoes that you clean with Windex. They looked great and I wonder if they are available to the average shoe buyer, or if you have to show your basketball officials credentials to purchase a pair.
But shiny shoes weren't the only thing I thought about last night while performing my stressless duties. Seeing so many great athletes running up and down the court, dribbling, shooting and scoring, it made me wish I could play just one more high school game to demonstrate my athletic abilities to the admiring fans. Not that I didn't get my chance. A true athlete is always prepared, and so was I when my moment arrived last night.
Suddenly, while Rick and Goose and Keith were busy focused on their important responsibilities, a basketball came flying in our direction. Somehow an errant pass was headed towards the head table. I sprung into action! In a moment that mystified the crowd I quickly jumped out of my seat, twisted my body into a pretzel-like shape it hasn't known in years, and batted the speeding sphere away from the important guys seated at halfcourt.
Who knows? This flying orb could have knocked Rick's finger off the timer button, costing the game valuable seconds. Or it could have hit Goose in the shoulder, rendering him in pain for the rest of the evening. Or, worse, it could have broken Keith's pencil, snapping it in half like a twig, leaving a notepad of unfinished formulas and an incomplete news story the next morning.
As I made my athletic leap to knock the ball away, a hush fell over the crowd, amazed that my body still has such athletic dexterity. I noticed the ten girls playing the game at the time suddenly stopped and looked at me, wondering how in the world a man my age could have made such a move. Even my boss, Jon Rebideau, the head honcho of sectional basketball, came running over to praise me for saving the table from harm, and thanking me for putting my body at risk. He reminded me that whereas they have alternate referees in case of injury, they have no stand-by announcer, and avoiding injury should be at the top of my list for the rest of the sectionals.
Little did they all know that my quickness of movement at the table was really to prevent my bag of snacks from getting crushed by the basketball. Seven hours is a long time to watch basketball without eating, and no way did I want my bags of potato chips, pretzels and candy crushed by some ol' basketball.
I can hardly wait for today. Another seven or eight hours of high school basketball at the Field House, this time boys' hoops. Hope to see you there. If you do go, check out the shiny shoes. I'm headed to the mall right now to try to buy a pair. And watch for the best athlete at the officials' table. See if he makes another amazing move to save his co-workers (and bags of goodies) from harm.
Comments
Foxy, the fact that my father ran to do anything is a feat in itself!! Just kidding! He appreciates all that you do so it is only fitting that he was grateful for your safety!
Posted by: Rian Rebideau | March 10, 2006 1:27 PM
Good reflexes Fox!I know for a fact that "Goose" and "Spruce" have both lost a step or 2 and would have been defenseless...I'm surprised "W", "Bullet" and
"Tom-a-hawk" ( your usual body guards) weren't there to protect you! (probably out campaigning)
as for Lacey's and Morelli's shiny shoes, I'm petty sure they were running late for the game after finishing their dance lessons at Racines and didn't have time to change.. I heard they are both trying out for "dancing with the stars"
Posted by: the carver | March 1, 2006 8:05 PM
ahhh yes.The Fox Man saves another life! How do you do it? I would have loved to have been there to see it. I hope you stretched properly both before and after your day-saving experience. And I hope for the sake of the "head table" that you left your wretched V8 juice at home. Oh how many times you and I worked together and you tortured me with it!
Posted by: Bryan Benway | February 26, 2006 3:26 AM
Foxy, I can relate to that feeling, although I have to go back 50 years to remember. It was half time of the varsity games in St John’s new gym. The fifth and sixth grades were allowed to play at separate baskets for 10 minutes, and there were usually 10-15 on each team. Think of that, 15 on 15 at one basket. If you touched the ball or better yet, got a shot off you didn’t sleep that night because of the exhilaration from the moment; not to mention the chaos that making a basket brought. It seemed that time stopped and the eyes of the world were on you, as you had accomplished a feat unequaled in modern times. The memories of those moments had faded until I read your blog depicting your own moment of glory. I guess that’s why you’ve stayed so young. By the way, there is no Santa Claus, or is there?!!
Posted by: Tom-A-Hawk | February 25, 2006 1:10 PM