My On-field Security Debut

Another email to my friend, Pablo, from a few weeks back...

Pablo --

By now, you may have noticed the lack of new reports indicating that
there were any security problems at this Sundays's Jacksonville
Jaguars game against the Dallas Cowboys. I like to think that the
lack of any riots or other mayhem is directly attributable to my
stellar performance as a Florida Class D Licensed Security Officer.

There was excitement in the air all weekend. Or maybe that was just
the burritos I ate Friday... but in any event, the people of
Jacksonville were all keyed up. The Fox network had chosen the
Jags/Cowboys game as their feature game for the weekend, which meant
that their entire Sunday NFL programming was based in Jacksonville,
and we were the game broadcast to 90% of the country. I knew I'd have
to bring my "A" game -- as well as a rain poncho, some Gatorade,
Mentos, and a pack of smokes -- all of which I crammed into my
uber-masculine fanny-pack.

And while I did remember to pack my "A" game, I unfortunately forgot
to pack my CSC ID card and security officer's license. So, just before
I reached the parking lot, I had to turn around and head home to
retrieve it. Me, my "A" game, and my fanny pack thus clocked in late.
I had to do a little begging to retain my scheduled on-field post,
but I guess I looked pitiful enough so that the supervisors let me go
on as scheduled.

My first responsibility was to join with about 15 co-workers to guard
the visiting team entrance. By the time I was posted there, the
Cowboys' defensive players and coaching staff had already arrived, and
the loading dock was blocked off from the general public by rows of
those metal barriers that look like bike racks. There were many, many
Dallas fans loitering around to try to catch a glimpse of the players.
The Dallas fans were an interesting bunch (in a vaguely pathetic,
maniacal sort of way). Most were dressed head to toe in official
Cowboys regalia, all of which (like all officially licensed NFL gear)
is ridiculously expensive. Anyway, I saw at least three women dressed
up as 1970's Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders. Two of them had to be at
least 40 years old, and were probably older. I thought, "Damn, here's
somebody's GRANDMA wearing a fringed bustier and white leather go-go
boots." They just don't make grandma's like they used to.

Anyway, I stood around trying to look nonchalant yet tough. (Note --
I was neither, but I tried hard to have the look, at least.) Before
long, we heard the police escort coming, so we cleared a swath through
the crowd, and the Cowboys' offense's bus pulled in. The crowd of
Dallas fans went absolutely NUTS. I was about 20 feet from the bus,
and thus got close up looks at Cowboys owner and billionaire Jerry
Jones (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jerry_Jones), then pro sports'
ultimate bad boy, wide receiver Terrel Owens (see
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terrel_Owens) -- both of whom turned and
waved graciously to acknowledge the fans, and quarterback Drew Bledsoe
(see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Drew_Bledsoe), who didn't turn and
acknowledge shit.

Then, with about an hour and a half to gametime, those of us who were
to be on-field security guards (about 8 of us, with others having
responsibility for following around the on-field tv camera crews),
went through the tunnel onto the field. I was honestly very, very
excited.

My position was at one corner of the visiting team's tunnel onto the
field, which was at about the 20 to 15 yard line, about 15 yards from
the end of the Jaguars' bench. I stood about six feet in from the
sideline. I had several responsibilities there: (1) keep the on-field
media behind certain painted lines; (2) keep people from congregating
around the Cowboys' tunnel, so they could get in and out of there
easily; (3) watch about 4 sections of the stadium seats to see if
there were any fights, medical emergencies, people throwing things
onto the field, etc., and report them to the cops if I saw anything;
(4) in the event the Jaguars challenged an official's ruling, standing
at the shoulder of and protecting the ref while he went under the
replay monitor hood; and (5) tackling and beating the shit out of
anybody who tried to run onto the field.

Of those tasks, I must say that it was the last one that scared me the
most, for several reasons. First, and most obviously, I am skilled
neither in tackling, nor in beating the shit out of anybody. (In
fact, I concluded that the only way I was likely to prevent any
particularly-determined miscreant from getting onto the field if he
really wanted to would be if my small intestine somehow got wrapped
around his ankles after he disemboweled me, and that tripped him up.)
Secondly, my employer (CSC), the Jaguars, and the NFL all have a
"thing" about people getting onto the field of play during games.
Every inch of every stadium is contantly being monitored via
closed-ciruit cameras, and everything is recorded. So if somebody
DOES manage to get onto the field, CSC, the team, and the NFL all will
review the tapes and watch to see how the security officer screwed up.
The higher-ups have whole seminars and meetings on this topic. I did
not want video of me f-----g up being watched by outraged NFL
executives, so I was determined not to let anybody get by me...

From the time I got there, there were a few players on the field
warming up, and several hangers-on and spectators with friends in high
places watching. All of the players seemed big and athletic, but
Terrell Owens stood out. I have never, ever seen a person who was in
that kind of physical condition. He had the body of a comic book
superhero. A human being could not possibly be in better physical
condition than T.O. is.

I had a nice time talking with the spectators on the sidelines. They
were all thrilled to be there (e.g. -- "This is the greatest day of my
life!"), and because I had the appearance of some authority, and
people assumed I was more experienced at this on-field thing than I
actually was, many were happy to chat me up. One guy turned out to be
from the small town where both my parents grew up and where my
grandmother lived until just a few years ago. Nice guy. I also got
asked several questions about the stadium by a Cowboy's team media
person, and I surprised myself by actually knowing the answers. I
also got a disproportionate amount of pleasure at one point when a
practice punt went out of bounds and bounced into my leg. I picked it
up and tossed it to a coach. I tried to be cool about it, and I think
I was on the outside, but on the inside I was giggling like a little
girl and thinking "I TOUCHED AN NFL FOOTBALL! I TOUCHED AN NFL
FOOTBALL!"

The few players warming up went back into the lockers to suit up and
the stadium filled with about 68,000 fans as gametime approached.
About 20 minutes before kickoff, we got the signal that the teams were
coming out, and I then had to hold a rope to clear the path from the
Cowboys' tunnel to the field. The Cowboys came out, and I was no more
than 10 feet from Bledsoe, Owens, Terry Glenn (see
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_Glenn), Head Coach Bill Parcells
(see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Parcells), and owner Jerry
Jones. Jones shook hands with all the fans along my line, at one
point reaching over my shoulder to do so. I could have turned my head
and bit his arm. (Note -- I did not do so -- I assumed that would
violate some sort of security guard's code.)

A marine band played some nice patriotic music, a woman sang a great
national anthem, and there was an awesome flyover by four F-15's (way
cool), and the game was on. I took my position at about the fifteen
yard line, right along the sidelines. As my job requires, I had my
back to the playing field, facing the stands.

That position has the advantage of allowing the security guard to
monitor the crowd, but the disadvantage of essentially keeping him
from watching more than little bits and pieces of the game. I was
comfortable with that and knew that would be the case, because it
would be impossible to do the job while watching the game. However,
because you can't really see what's going on out on the field, and
because you are so close to the sidelines, getting creamed by players
going out of bounds is a very real threat. I was told to cast
occasional sidelong glances at the jumbotron to see if a play was
coming my way, and also to run if the photographers near me started
to.

The Jacksonville cheerleaders (called "The Roar") then took the field.
They divided themselves into four groups, one of which was located
directly in front of me, between me and the stands. I was so close to
them that on a few occasions during the game, I was actually brushed
by their pompoms. (Unfortunately, I am not here using the word
"pompoms" as a euphemism.) Anyway, oooohhhhhhhh, those cheerleaders!
I must say, I was in such fear over missing something in the stands or
letting some numbnuts scamper onto the field that I didn't watch them
all that much. (I had visions of the film review by CSC, the Jags and
the NFL, and the powers-that-be exclaiming " So that's how that drunk
naked guy got on the field -- the security officer was staring at that
cheerleader!") Anyway, what I did see of the Roar was that they
are a lithe, pixiesh group of smiling lasses. Very, VERY cute. .

Please note that I use the phrase "close to me" solely to refer to
physical proximity on the field, and not in any way to imply that
there was any other sort of "closeness," or indeed, any sort of
conversation at all. Indeed, the members of the Roar not only failed
to communicate with me at all, but actually gave no sign whatsoever
that my existence on this planet registered with them in the
slightest, much less my existence within 3 feet of some of them.

Of course, had any of the cheerleaders made eye contact or otherwise
acknowledged my presence, I would have turned on that patented "Sparky" charm and I'm sure they would have been lovely to talk with,
at least until the Sheriff's Deputy arrived with the restraining
order, but as it stood, there was absolutely no interaction. But they
do dance extremely well, and all are MUCH better looking in person
than in their photos on the website.

A little ways into the first quarter, it started to rain. I wasn't
sure which would make me look dorkier -- the cheap plastic rain
poncho, or getting soaked. As the rain intensified, I remembered that
I look dorky in any circumstances, and opted for the poncho and being
dry.

The game started poorly for the Jags, and the Cowboys jumped out to a
10 to nothing lead. The Jags fans were not happy campers. There was
a vocal minority of Cowboys fans in the crowd, and I started to fret
that this was a recipe for drunken fights in the stands as the Dallas
fans grew more pumped and the Jags fans got more pissed. However, the
Jags starting playing better and crawling back into the game, and
there appeared to be no trouble.

The only time I had to dodge any players was on one occasion when
Dallas was punting from about their own 10 yard line. Being where I
was, the line of scrimmage was very near where I was standing. The
Dallas wide coverage guy on my side of the field got blocked out of
bounds right next to me, and I had to take a few steps away from the
field to avoid him. As he took off down the field, I was absolutely
shocked to see how fast the guy was. Un-frickin'-believable.

Anyway, I was scanning the crowd constantly and keeping the media
back, and catching occasional glimpses of the game and cheerleaders.
It was all quite the spectacle. And I've got to say, that even though
I've attended two pro football games and sat in the stands, and
watched hundreds more on TV, it is a whole other level of noise
actually out there on the field when you are standing there and every
scream, cheer, and shout from nearly 70,000 people is launched in your
direction. Damn, it gets loud down there. It's quite a rush --
almost as big a rush as getting a "Pablo" email.

Halftime featured a live performance by the band Sister Hazel. I'm
not a big Sister Hazel fan, but I like them well enough, and they
sounded really good. I ended up feeling kind of bad for them, though,
for two reasons. First, there is a noticeable delay between the sound
on the field and the sound that comes out of the stadium speakers --
about a half second. I thus gained a new appreciation for how tough
it is for a band to play in a big stadium. Nevertheless, they really did
great, and I'm mystified as to how they managed to keep time. But
then, when the halftime reaches a predetermined point where the teams
are ready to come out for the second half warmups, the powers-that-be
declare the halftime show OVER. Which is to say, Sister Hazel was in
mid-song when all of a sudden their mikes and amps got turned off, and
instantly scores of workers started rolling away their set and stage.
So much for the big finish. For the band, I'm sure it was
disconcerting. (Note my clever pun.)

In the third quarter, I actually got to do something significant,
beyond merely keeping the media from creeping beyond their lines, and
keeping the way clear for the Cowboys to enter and exit the field. I
was scanning the crowd, when I noticed people starting to stand up in
one section and call for the ushers. I ran to a cop, led him over to
the field in front of that section, and pointed out that there was
some issue up in the the stands. He radio-ed it in, and in a few
moments, a ton of cops, et al. made their way there. I don't know
what was going on, but it didn't seem to be a fight, so I suspect it
was either someone passing out or having a heart attack. In any
event, I think I was the first official person to spot it, and I did
my part in getting help there quickly, so I was pretty pleased with my
performance.

Meanwhile, the Jags were clawing their way back into the game, taking
the lead, and shutting down the Cowboys. In the fourth quarter, the
Jags scored a touchdown on my end of the field, and the post-touchdown
celebration occurred between me and the stands, about 10 feet away
from me. All the Jags' stars, including quarterback Byron Leftwich,
brushed by me to join the hugging, cheering mass of players. Even the
head coach, Jack Del Rio, whizzed by me. At one point, one of the
jubilant linemen was headed straight at me, which gave me the momentay
sensation that I was about to be run over by a large, black, sweaty,
grinning semi.

Also in the Fourth quarter, a guy came over and stood next to me and we
struck up a brief conversation. It was Dallas Head Coach Bill
Parcells' brother.

The Jags closed out the game (an important and impressive win for
them), and my on-field work was done. (you can read a recap of the
game here -- http://sports.espn.go.com/nfl/recap?gameId=260910030)

Once the fans cleared the stadium, I was shifted back to the Cowboys'
busses, where I stood between the barricades holding back a few
hundred Cowboys fans and autograph seekers and the busses. We waited
quite a while for all the team to emerge from the lockerroom, and in
the interim, I enjoyed watching the crowd and occasionally chatting up
the fans. It was fun. At least two fans specifically took my
picture, thus giving them perhaps the lamest keepsake EVER taken home
from a professional sporting event.

Thus ended my night. I received decent reviews for my work at the game,
so I hope to return to an on-field position on September 18, when the
Jags play the Super Bowl champion Pittsburgh Steelers on Monday Night
Football.

I gotta say, I love this job. I love my fellow CSC employees, and the
work itself is interesting. I seriously, honestly want to do my part
to help people safely enjoy the game. It may be ridiculous and
pathetic to feel that way and be so excited to do this, but dude, I'm
WAY into it. And I'm accustomed to being ridiculous and pathetic.

Granted, the night was not as thrilling and fun as my wedding, the
births of my children, any of a number of romantic rendesvous, high
school or college hijinks, and the like, but unlike all of those other
experiences, I actually get paid for doing this, and that's
something...