Episode 14: Snowballs Keep Falling on my Head

This piece is about the 2007 meeting between the Patriots and Jets. It was my most anticipated game of the season, as it was the first post-SpyGate Jet visit to Gillette, and would be my first time doing a Jets game. The weather for this one was horrendous.


I'm into my Niche Phase here, with a regular spot and a regular job. But I'm also starting to get more and more frustrated. As an usher, you handle small problems, but you never get to deal with larger problems. You call your supervisor. And that becomes frustrating after awhile. Eventually, this frustration would combine with boredom and routine to result in my changing my role with TeamOps.


For every cool part of this job, there's a shitty part. In general, working this event was one of the shitty parts. This was originally written December 19, 2007.


The story of the day was the weather. For all of you who envy my job as an usher, this was one of those days which you might not be so eager to work. And you wouldn’t be alone.


I went to bed at 3 AM Saturday night (Sunday morning, really), and the snow hadn’t started falling. When I woke up at 5, there was 4 inches on the ground. By the time I left my house at 6, there was 6 inches.


Route 1 was unplowed, but the 6 mile trek to Gillette wasn’t so bad. Nobody else was on the roads, and four winters of driving the back roads of upstate New York have turned me into the Jimmie Johnson of snow driving. I got to the Stadium at 6:30, took a 30 minute nap in my car, then went in to work.


The timing of the snow was perfect for creating a mess. It hadn’t started early enough for Stadium workers to really get on top of it. By the time people got there, every row and aisle was buried in 8 inches of powder. Not surprisingly, the crews cleared the premium club seating first, even though most club members would stay inside their heated lounges for the duration of the game.


My post was in the corner of the North End Zone, underneath the upper deck, so I was able to stay relatively dry.


A tarp covered the field, and as plows labored to remove the snow sitting on it, something unexpected happened in the concourse. Several Jets players ran by. With the field covered, they warmed up by running laps around the Stadium. As a fan, it was difficult not to blast them with obscenities. We’re not even supposed to talk to players, let alone verbally harass them. But I was able to contain my fanaticism.


At around 11, the snow turned into freezing rain. Tiny specks of ice bounced off the seats and aisles. When driven by the 30 MPH wind, these grains of frozen water turned into a sandstorm, pelting my face until it turned red. But this is New England. This is the weather the Patriots are supposed to thrive in.


Before the game, someone tried to bribe me. He handed me his ticket, wrapped in a $20 bill. At first I thought this was a mistake and said “I’ll take the money.”


But when he said “Thank you.” I knew something was up. I looked at the ticket and it said “Section 324.”


I was tempted to take the money. There’d be a lot of empty seats anyway. But all it would take for me to get in trouble would be one complaint about someone’s seat being occupied when they arrived, or one person seeing me take the $20.


Despite the weather, and the snow in their seats, people were still in a very good mood. I didn’t see Eugene Wilson’s interception and touchdown, but I knew what had happened based on the noises generated by the crowd. There was the low drone that precedes a defensive play, a high pitched rise in everyone’s voices as Seymour hit Clemens, a sharp blast of noise when Wilson picked it and ran it in, then the sustained music of jubilation and celebration.


After the touchdown, the snow flew. Playfully, everyone threw bits of snow into the air, reminiscent of the impromptu celebration that occurred when Tedy Bruschi returned a pick for 6 against Miami in 2003. But the launching of snow would soon prove troublesome.





The game itself turned into a dull grind of incomplete passes and punts. Special teams play provided the most excitement, with the Jets returning a blocked punt for a touchdown, and Kelley Washington blocking a punt to set up a Laurence Maroney score.


But the tedium was isolated to the field. When fans had nothing to celebrate, they got rid of their snow by rolling it into icy balls and indiscriminately chucking it.


Two men in my section approached me and complained that they had been hit with snowballs from the 200 level. Both men were irate, screaming at me to do something about it. I beeped my supervisor, but knew there was little we could do.


Both drunk men threatened to “Go up there and do something about it” themselves. That’s the last thing I wanted, and the dumbest thing they could do. I had to physically restrain one of them from going up to the 200s. The other one fell into line when both my supervisor and I yelled right back at his face.


Our only backup was a lone Foxborough Police officer.


So my supervisor and I became the roam team. We went up to section 240, which was a mess. The trampled and uneven piles of snow had been glazed by the freezing rain into uneven moguls of slickness. I couldn’t even stand up there, let alone run after the guy we saw throwing a snowball.


My supervisor convinced the guy to come downstairs with us. He was somewhat sober, relatively calm, and explained that he wasn’t aiming at anybody, he was just throwing snow - like everyone else. He said he’d stop, and we let him go. For his sake, he better have stopped, because the surveillance cameras were focused heavily on that section. We’d eventually eject 4 people from 240 for throwing snowballs.


During half-time, more and more people started complaining about snow throwing. One woman had red abrasions on her cheek where she was struck. About a dozen people came up to me to say that they had been hit with snowballs. Another dozen people came up to me and said the guy complaining had a reputation for being a jerk. Another group of people tried to convince me that he “Never gets this mad, so something must be wrong.”


One snowball that reached the field struck a cheerleader in the shoulder, nearly knocking her over. That’s when it became personal. Nobody messes with my TV timeout distractions. Even if they were wearing vests.





The third quarter began, and the whining only intensified. I felt bad for the fans in my section, but there was really nothing I nor my supervisor could do. EVERYBODY in the Stadium was throwing snowballs. And even though they were somewhat icy, they were still merely balls of frozen water. They weren’t throwing batteries, bottles, rocks, horseshoes, knives, ninja stars, grenades, or anything truly serious.


At one point there was a cacophonic maelstrom of people yelling at my supervisor and I. People complaining about the snowballs. Others complaining about the complainers. Guys wanting to fight people. People asking where the standing room section was.


“Where is section 143,” “Where’s the bathroom?,” and all the questions we get asked all poured on us at once. My supervisor yelled at everyone to “Back off!” And they did.


I had to go down into the section and stop a near fight between a complainer and a thrower. The complainer wasn’t thinking things through. By standing in the aisle and yelling at people, he was making himself a target.


I had beeped my supervisor and the police so many times that an Event Manager came over with the cop. Event Managers are like the Generals of our operation. They’re not in charge of everything, but they’re in charge of you.


The Manager’s first question to me was about the standing room people in my section, and whether or not two guys had tickets for the ADA section. I wanted to scream and say something like “I’ve had a couple hundred people yell and bitch at me for hours, it’s the third quarter and I haven’t had my break yet, I’m cold, I was one of the few people who made the effort to show up today, and you’re asking me about my goddammed ADA section?” But I didn’t.


The Manager went down into the section with the cop. After a few minutes, they came back up. He told me that if the troublemaking complainer lodged one more complaint, I was to call my supervisor and he was to be ejected. I asked the cop how it went down there. He laughed and said “Sucks to be you, buddy.”


Finally, they made an announcement over the PA system ordering fans to stop throwing snowballs, otherwise the game would be halted. The snow throwing essentially stopped. There was one incident later in the game that resulted in a delay, but nothing serious.


Near the end of the game, the snow throwing once again picked up. I dropped down to the bottom of my section at the 2 minute warning. As I crouched on the bottom step, trying to keep my balance on the uneven mounds of ice, a snowball clocked me right in the kisser. I stood up, and like a substitute teacher yelled out “Who did that?” Of course, no one admitted to it, nor did anyone squeal.


Speaking of squealers, in the first row of the section next to mine was a man dressed as a rat in honor of Eric Mangini. It was actually a good day to be wearing a giant furry costume like that.


When the game ended, a torrent of snowballs rained down on the field, the crowd, and myself. But there were very few balls actually thrown, just bits and pieces of snow flying around, drenching everything and everyone.


The parking lot was a slushy quagmire. I got more saturated from the walk to my car than I did from 8 hours of work. After 90 minutes of driving, I was back home, all dry and warm. I checked the forecast for Sunday’s 4:15 game against Miami. 40 degrees and cloudy. Sounds like beach weather to me.

Episode 13: Just the Pats and Steelers

This was the heart of what I call my "Niche Phase" working for TeamOps. I've got a regular spot at Patriot games, as well as BC Hockey. I know the routines and procedures. Re-reading these pieces from when I started in my "Awestruck Phase" to this phase, I can also detect many differences in my writing.


A good example of this is the use of people's names in the piece. I'm also telling about the random and unexpected stories that occur at an event. I'm not longer describing the nuts and bolts operational side of things, I'm focusing on the colorful happenings.


I changed the pictures in this piece so they could fit into the blog here. I also added the video of the Brady-Moss-Gaffney play. This was originally written on December 14, 2007.


Evening (4:15 PM) games are my favorite to work. It’s not too early, it’s not too late. It’s dark, but people don’t have all day to drink. I get home at a reasonable hour, but I don’t have to get up at an unreasonable one.


Once again, I was stationed in the North End Zone (the one on your left on TV), behind section 142, on the ADA (American with Disabilities Act) platform. Great view of the field, the jumbotron, and the cheerleaders.





One of the many things I never really thought about before getting this job was all the stuff that happens in the sky during an event. The airspace around the Stadium is restricted on game day. This is a security precaution and a logistical matter. There are too many aircraft around the venue to allow unauthorized planes to enter. There are airplanes dragging advertisements, blimps, State Police choppers, Mister Kraft’s helicopter, our helicopter patrolling the parking lots, military flyovers, and so on.


On Sunday, an unauthorized and unwelcome plane invaded the skies above Gillette Stadium. Well, it might have been authorized, but it certainly wasn’t welcome. It towed a sign that read “Barry Bonds: 756* Bill Belichick: 3 Super Bowl Rings*.” It did 8 or 10 laps around Gillette before disappearing, probably forced to leave for an unapproved sign, or maybe even shot down by SAMs. You never know with the Patriots.


I don’t care what your opinion is on SpyGate, Barry Bonds, or any combination of the two. You don’t fly that crap over our Stadium. Ironically, there were probably a couple dozen surveillance cameras watching that plane as it circled the area.


Back to the game. There were slightly fewer Steeler fans at this contest than there were Eagle fans a few weeks ago. However, they still made their presence felt. Thanks to the Terrible Towels that they brought, it was easy to spot them throughout the Stadium. Nevertheless, it was mostly Patriot fans who caused problems.


I went on break in the middle of the second quarter. On my way to our break room, I saw my friend Joe and a few other TeamOps event staffers (orange jackets, more security oriented) standing in a semi-circle around something. Behind them were three cops kneeling on a guy as they cuffed him. The dude being arrested was face down on the concrete, a cops knees on the back of his neck. I couldn’t help but chuckle.


My buddy Mike was working the section next to mine, and four Patriot fans had been acting up. They yelled drunken obscenities, threw stuff, and were overly intoxicated. Another fan told Mike that this quartet of punks were planning on hitting him, so that was the last straw. Three of them were willing to be peacefully escorted out, but one of them decided to be a tough guy. He punched a cop. To quote Good Will Hunting : “You hit a cop, you’re going in.” The guy could have just left the Stadium and drank in the parking lot all night. Instead, he went to Norfolk County Lockup.


My section was calmer than Mike’s. The problems I dealt with were more stupid and silly than violent. There were two drunk guys who claimed that someone was in their seats. I walked to the seats with them and they were empty. One of the beer vendors approached me with a slip of paper that appeared to be a temporary Rhode Island license. He then asked me if he should serve the guy. How the hell should I know that? And of course, there were dozens of people asking where they could stand with standing room tickets.


Standing room people really piss me off. Most of them are okay, and some are fun to interact with during the games. However, they think that having an SRO ticket entitles them to something more than just entry into the Stadium. I had a man in a wheelchair and his wife enter my ADA section, and the SRO people behind them were screaming at the woman to sit down, even though they had just arrived. I summoned the meanest “STFU” glare I could at them and they piped down.


The Red Line (everyone must stand BEHIND the red lines around the Stadium) is seriously abused in the end zones because of the hordes of SROs. I’m very strict about enforcing the Line, because if you give these clowns an inch, they’ll take a mile. By the end of the game, they were calling me “The Red Line Gestapo.” I wanted to have some fun with that and start yelling in German. “Sie ziehen hinter die rote Linie um!” But I didn’t.


Being at the Stadium is so much better than watching the game at home (obviously). What I mean is, actually being there allows you to see things before they happen. On TV, the camera is aimed at the quarterback and the area around him. You can’t see downfield. But being there, you can see everything. On the busted double lateral pass trick play (it’s called “Raven”), once Moss threw back to Brady, the entire crowd could see what was about to happen. They saw Brady with space, and Gaffney about 10 steps ahead of Anthony Smith. The sound made by the crowd was like 70,000 people sharply inhaling in unison. Then the place exploded as Gaffney hauled it in.





But the best part of the game wasn’t the trick play, or the goal line stand, or Brady’s 4 touchdowns. It came late in the 4th quarter, when the game was in hand. A chant arose from the south end zone, and spread along the east and west sidelines. I don’t know if it was heard on TV that well. It was done to the beat of the “M-V-P” chant. But the fans were saying “GUAR-AN-TEE!” It gave me goose bumps. Then they put Anthony Smith on the jumbotron in between plays. It was the second best moment at Gillette this year, behind Belichick’s first pre-game introduction after SpyGate.


Thankfully, the Patriots won and won convincingly. I’m not just saying that because I’m a fan. As this winning streak progresses, any loss would be catastrophic, especially for Stadium security (and even worse for parking lot security). And blowouts are great because people leave early.


Last Friday, I worked the premier Boston College hockey game of the season: the BU game. It was lively, but still not nearly as intense as Alfond Arena in Maine or Lynah Rink at Cornell. But the Conte Forum still overflows with drunk students for the BU game. They fill the sections behind the nets and all of the upper level of the arena. But it was fairly obvious that for most of these students, this would be their first and last game of the year.


You have to be smart to get into Boston College. But apparently, you don’t have to be so smart if you want to run a BC sporting event. Someone decided it would be a neat idea to put those little towels fans wave on all of the student seats. In the 2nd period, the crowd realized that these rags could be tied into a ball and used as a projectile. Thankfully, they were just towels. Nevertheless, it’s not good to have fans throwing stuff around.


I had one interesting situation. I was on the top floor of the rink, making sure people didn’t wander into the press area. A very drunk BC fan was walking around the section, singing the theme song to Team America. He took a seat behind some of his buddies, and passed out. I called my supervisor, and we watched him dream his drunk dreams for a bit before his friends woke him up. There were only 3 minutes left in the game, and he wasn’t causing any problems, so we didn’t do anything.


Wednesday night I worked the BC/UMass basketball game. Stupidly enough it was scheduled for 9 PM right in the middle of finals week. I was at the gate the entire time, so I missed the 83-80 seesaw Umass win, BUT, the cheerleaders and dance team all warmed up in the gym adjacent to the gate. It was nice.


Speaking of cheerleaders, here’s a gratuitous pic:





Next event: Jets vs. Patriots in a Nor’Easter. Could get weird.

Ushering Statistics:
Events worked: 31
Ejections: 1
Ejection Threats: 35
Uncomfortably hit on/fondled: 8
Times I’ve Heard “Shipping Up to Boston”: 110

Episode 12: Eagles to the Left of Me, Eagles to the Right

The BC football season ends with this post, or at least their home games did. This is also right about when I got my regular spot at Patriot games. After being sort of a utility infielder of the North End Zone, I became the 'full-time' usher at the 142 ADA platform. It was really fun going into Gillette knowing where you'll be (or eventually end up).


Writing-wise, I continue to include dialog, and create better scenes. The thrill of the event has waned, so my focus during an event, and consequently my writing about an event, has shifted to people. Not just myself, but to the unexpected characters and unexpected situations of an event.


This was originally written November 27, 2007


This previous week was a busy one for me. I worked four events in five days. Last Wednesday, Rhode Island nearly beat Boston College in basketball. Friday night, Northeastern beat BC hockey 4-3 in overtime, Miami lost in football to the Eagles, and the Philadelphia Eagles visited Gillette Stadium. I’m gonna start with the Patriots game and work my way backwards.


Before the season started, this game jumped off the schedule. Night games are always difficult to work, but the fact that this would be a holiday weekend, and a few thousand Philly fans would be in the house, made this game special.


Because of Thanksgiving, we were slightly understaffed. For a Sunday night game, the bosses would ideally deploy around 1,200 people. Last night, we had approximately 900. But we had backup. The police, as always, were there in force. And for the first time, they were authorized to use tasers in out of control situations. Our supervisors warned us that the police would repeat the word “taser” before using them so that we could get out of the way. If you’re at Gillette, and you hear a cop say “taser” over and over, run.


Although we were lacking in number, the Eagles fans were not. Judging by what I saw throughout the Stadium, and what I heard in terms of crowd reaction to plays; I’d estimate that of the 70,000 in attendance, 4,000 to 6,000 were Eagles fans. Without a doubt, this was the highest number of visiting fans we’ve had at Gillette this season.


I was working the ADA platform in the north end zone (ADA=Americans with Disabilities Act, we’re not allowed to say the H word). The end zones are great because I can watch the crowd while watching the game on the jumbotron. They also put the cheerleaders on the big screen during TV timeouts. Unfortunately the cheerleaders were wearing their jackets. The days of short shorts and skirts are over.





But the jackets and tight pants aren’t that bad, either.





The one thing that sucks about the end zone is the abundance of standing room people. These are the guys who don’t regularly come to games, wind up with crappy views of the field, and are also closest to the beer stands.


This game was the hardest to work all season. We had fights, shouting matches, bottles being thrown, people threatening me. There was a general feeling of unhappiness and misery at the Stadium. People were very mean to each other and occasionally vicious toward me.


The funny thing was, almost all of my problems were with Patriots fans, not Eagles fans. The Eagles fans in my section were drunk, loud, obnoxious, but extremely well behaved. They even joked around with Pats fans about Spygate, and McNabb choking in the Super Bowl.


I had a Patriots fan throw a plastic bottle at an Eagles fan, who took it in stride. I had two groups of Patriots fans jawing at each other because one guy kept calling Brady a homo. But there was one Eagles fan who really pissed me off. He was in my standing room area, and was a big dude, about 6’ 6” and 270, wearing a throwback Reggie White jersey. He gestured toward me to move because I was blocking his view. This set me off. No fan tells me to move, especially not some liquored up standing room Eagles fan. I spent the rest of the night telling him to move here and there. If he had one millimeter of his boots on the red line, I yelled at him.


I had another guy who refused to clear a path to the section. With a sh*t-eating grin he told me “I have a path, I’m fine.”


My reply was “There’s also a path to the parking lot, buddy, now move.”


He said “Alright, I’ll move, for your sake.”


“Gee, pal, thanks, I was really scared of you.”


Thankfully, we won the game, even though we played like garbage. As a fan, this was nice, but as an usher it was a godsend. As I said, there were a few thousand Eagles fans who knew how to make their presence known. Throw in 65,000 pissed off Patriots fans (40,000 of which probably had money on the game) and you’ve got a recipe for fights.


Apart from Asante Samuel’s game sealing interception in the fourth, the most satisfying moment of the event was when a trio of Eagles fans walked up to me and thanked me for dealing with two feuding groups of Pats fans. I had earlier talked to these drunk middle aged men as though they were 4 year old siblings fighting over crayons. “Just ignore him, if anything happens you just talk to me, you don’t want to spend the rest of the night in time-out (our holding cell), or be grounded (arrested), or go to sleep with no dinner (get tased).”


As much as I hate the Eagles and dislike their fans, I made a concerted effort to make their experience at Gillette Stadium an enjoyable one. I joked around with them, took their pictures for them, protected them when they needed protection, cooled them down when there was trouble brewing, and so on. I was extremely happy that these three Eagles fans would go back home and maybe tell their friends and family about the proactive security at Gillette Stadium, and how we treat visiting fans the way guests should be treated.


Then again, I’m glad those Eagle fans didn’t go home too happy… 11-0 BABY!


On Saturday, I worked the BC-Miami game. I was excited because the last time Boston College beat Miami was November 23, 1984; the day I was born. With BC being so good this year, and Miami being so horrible, I figured that I’d get a birthday present from the Eagles in the form of a win over Miami. I got that, but I didn’t get to see any of it.


Unfortunately for me, I’m reliable and I don’t complain. If given an assignment, I do it to the best of my ability. This reputation I’ve built for myself screwed me on Saturday. My bosses called me the day before and told me to report 30 minutes earlier (8:30 AM instead of 9). This means I’d be getting an early post position, usually babysitting a gate until the ticket takers arrive.


I got assigned to guard the zamboni door of the hockey rink. Alumni Stadium is connected to the Conte Forum, where the basketball and hockey teams play. During football games, the Forum is open for concession and restroom use. The zamboni door is where food is loaded and unloaded, spare parts are kept, an emergency generator is maintained, and so on. It’s a part of the athletic complex that is 100% utilitarian. Most fans will never see places like this when they attend a sporting event.


So I was going to be outside, and miss the entire game. That sucked, but I wasn’t too upset. My friend George was also working down there, the generator guy seemed cool, the BC employees were not bad to work with, I wouldn’t have to deal with any entitled Boston College schmucks, my supervisor told me I could smoke down there, and we could take turns going inside to warm up. Going inside was a very enticing notion as it was about 20 degrees in the morning, and 30 degrees by kickoff.


Then I got moved. I didn’t get moved inside the Forum, or inside the Stadium. I got moved to guard ESPN’s trucks just outside the Stadium. ESPN wanted a detail there to guard their equipment.


So now I had to baby-sit some trucks. The most important part of the job was to make sure nobody messed with the dozens of wires pouring out of these trailers. There was a game last year that experienced a 5 minute broadcast blackout thanks to a drunk BC student. Now I was pretty much by myself, in the shade (which made me even colder), unable to smoke, having to deal with BC people, missing the game, and having to guard four trucks. Anybody out there who watched the game on TV, all I have to say to you is “You’re welcome.”


It wasn’t all bad out there, though. They gave me an ESPN College Football hat, and when they had a free minute to talk, they kept me company. I developed a crush on Heather, the producer. She was kind of cute, but what really interested me was the way she carried herself. She was very confident and sure. It was clear that she was definitely in charge. I wouldn’t say she was dominating or demanding, but she was commanding. I like a woman who knows what she wants. Few women do.


The only trouble I had was before the game and after it. Boston College doesn’t allow public drinking anywhere but the designated tailgate area, and the entire campus is non-smoking. But these two policies are ignored by both students and campus security. Some kids were drinking from big red plastic cups, but most were casually carrying a can of Bud Light or a bottle of Heineken. At first, I yelled at anyone drinking to throw it out. Then I gave up. I’m not going to loose my voice enforcing a policy that 1) isn’t my policy, 2) is a somewhat stupid policy considering how difficult it is to enforce, 3) isn’t enforced by those who made the policy.


After the game, a BC student tried to get into the food the ESPN guys had outside their truck. “Hey buddy, you can’t go in there.”


“This is my dad’s,” referring to ESPN’s set-up.


“It’s your dad’s what?!?”


“It’s my dad’s tailgate.”


“No, it’s ESPN’s, get the fuck out of there, NOW!”


That was a very satisfying moment. I shouldn’t have sworn, but after a very long day, I had no patience to deal with some spoiled BC brat. But not all BC students are jerks. One offered me a can of Bud Light before he went into the Stadium. I couldn’t take it, so he left it for the ESPN crew. They gladly accepted it.


Two very funny things happened around the Conte Forum during the game. My friend Ron was working inside, making sure nobody snuck out onto the ice. Trainers, coaches, and even players from Miami would go out and take pictures of the rink. Apparently they don’t see ice too often in Florida, and this was probably the biggest patch of it they’d ever seen in person. It must have seemed like a glacier to them.


A very nice older woman walked up to me whilst I guarded the trucks and asked me if it was okay for her to pick up some leaves and take them with her. She was from Florida, and the descended foliage intrigued her. It took a lot of energy not to laugh because it seemed like a silly thing to ask permission to take leaves, as if each leaf were individually numbered and strategically placed to create an autumnal atmosphere.


The hockey and basketball games at BC have been fun to work, but both teams are struggling. The basketball team is 4-0, but has been trailing at half-time to UNH, Florida Atlantic, and Rhode Island. Against Mercer, BC was tied at half-time. There’s a stretch of 8 home games in 32 days coming up. Some of the games are against New England teams like UMass and Northeastern, but there is a big game against the Jayhawks of Kansas that I cannot wait to work.


A fringe benefit of working basketball games is that the BC cheerleaders are there, and are still wearing skirts.





The hockey team has been a disappointment. After starting the season ranked fourth, they’re on the verge of falling out of the Top 20 thanks to ties against bad teams, and a lack of wins against good teams. Northeastern is for real though, and the just might win their first Beanpot since 1988.


With both basketball and hockey struggling, I’ve been more inclined to volunteer to take tickets instead of ushering for the whole game. Taking tickets requires very little effort I also rarely have to tell someone that they can’t do something. The best part of taking tickets, though, is welcoming visiting fans to BC. I’ve been able to greet fans from Georgia, North Carolina, Florida, New Hampshire, Maine, Rhode Island, and North Dakota. Eventually there will be people from Maryland, Kansas, and Virginia.


Up next for me is BC women’s basketball against New Hampshire, then a big event on Friday: BC hockey against BU. That could get raucous. We’ve also got a stretch of three straight Patriots home games in December, and with the Pats clinching the AFC East, we are guaranteed to have at least one home playoff game. The weather’s getting colder, which means Gillette Stadium will be heating up.


Ushering Statistics:
Events worked: 27
Ejections: 1
Ejection threats: 22
Uncomfortably hit on/fondled: 7
Times I’ve heard “Shipping up to Boston”: 75

Episode 11: Seminoles, Redskins, and Fighting Sioux, Oh My

I'm really starting to apply the lessons I learned in personal essay class in this piece. Dialog, imagery, a touch of humor, and honesty. I'm also doing a better job of utilizing the characters I meet at any given event. Instead of just calling someone "drunk guy," I'm giving them more of a voice, and more of their own independent characteristics that turn them into multi-dimensional aspects of the story. I can then use them to bounce the story around a bit, creating a more vivid movement through a much more interesting and realistic world of the story.


I'm into the heart of my "Niche" phase with this job in this piece, which was written on November 5, 2007. I know more people, and by now I've got a regular spot ushering in the North End Zone. I know a bit more what to expect in games, and the routine shit doesn't even enter my mind.


Meteorologists must get commission from grocery stores when predicting foul weather. They always seem to call for the worst weather imaginable. The forecast for Chestnut Hill on Saturday included predictions of 40 MPH winds, with gusts in the 60s, and driving rain all night. The weather would be nowhere near as Apocalyptic. The most dismal aspect of Saturday night’s game would be Matt Ryan, not the remnants of Hurricane Noel.


I had been looking forward to working this game all season. I had gotten up early to work the Army game, the Bowling Green blow out, and the all-too-close UMass game. But this was special. This was Florida State. This was a nationally televised game. This was ACC football.


For those of you who watched the game on television, you do not require a summary of what happened. You know how poorly Matt Ryan played, how little Boston College ran the ball, how mistake free the Seminoles played, and the end result. Here are some things that weren’t on television:


The rain.
It stopped raining in the first quarter, but it had been pouring all morning, afternoon, and evening. The wind and the cold seemingly amplified the intensity of the rain. I was fortunate enough to be positioned underneath an overhang. But my feet were still soaked. By the start of the game, I could not feel them. The field was soaked through, like a big, wet carpet. This would be noticeable throughout the game.


Florida State’s immaturity.
After their pre-game warm-ups, the Seminoles ran to the BC logo at the 50 yard line and danced on it, mockingly. After the game, several FSU players took off bandanas from their heads and threw them into the BC student section. Almost all of the FSU players gave a mocking gesture toward the BC fans. The last instance of childish behavior was the most bizarre. Two of my coworkers actually caught a pair FSU players trying to get back onto the field after they had exited. They were both carrying scissors, with the intention of cutting a chunk of turf from the field. They were apprehended, their scissors confiscated, and they had to leave the premises.


I actually took this childish behavior by the Seminoles as a compliment to Boston College. Here was Bobby Bowden’s Florida State Seminoles dancing on the BC logo, celebrating an UPSET win over Boston College, trying to take a piece of the Alumni Stadium turf. When beating you becomes a major accomplishment for your opponent, that’s when you know that you’ve made it.


I wasn’t upset by the loss. In fact, I expected it. I always expect BC to collapse and lose a game that they should win. I was actually quite happy. Saturday night I got my first ejection!


I was positioned in the student section, the only part of the Stadium that resembles true college football atmosphere. There is a lot of drinking in the student section, even though no alcohol is sold or allowed. I was standing in the aisle, and this guy walks in nonchalantly carrying a Bud Light can. I was overjoyed. I’ve been looking forward to my first ejection ever since I got this job.


“Buddy hold on a minute. You can’t have that here.” He put the can down on the ground and tried to continue walking. “No, no, no, you’ve gotta go, you’re out of here.” I picked up the can, led him to some EMS workers, and asked them to call the BC Police. We waited, and the guy was actually very cooperative. He didn’t resist, didn’t argue. He commented on his stupidity because the can was practically empty. The BCPD arrived and dealt with him (escorted him out of the Stadium).


There was another incident that didn’t go as well. I saw a guy with a Busch Light can. He tried hiding it from me, but it was too late. He asked if he could chug it and I said “No, you’ve got to come with me.” He then took a swig from it, and I yelled. “Buddy, I can either tell the cops you’re being cooperative or you’re being difficult, which is it?”


He replied “I’m a law student, you’re just a…”


I interrupted him and said “Your pupils are dilated, pal, you’re drunk, let’s go.”


Here’s the thing, though: I can’t physically bring him to the police. At Boston College, we’re not security. Legally we can’t put our hands on the fans. I took the beer from him and he slipped back into the student section. Rule #1 when working the student section is to not go anywhere alone. I had to let him go. Even if I chased him, I couldn't do anything had I caught him. Oh, well.


After the game, my section was littered with a few dozen Miller Lite cans, an empty bottle of Jack, and a hotel mini-bar sized bottle of Brandy (very smart on a cold night). That’s what happens when you don’t do pat downs.


Since I got this job, I’ve been sexually harassed, had men dance with me (Brazilians), and have been come on to dozens of times. What happened to me Saturday night was full blown molestation. Or was it? Is it still molestation if one consents to it after the fact?


This smoking hot BC coed was walking up the aisle. I maneuvered to let her by. On her way, the palm of her hand grazed - caressed, even - my crotch. She then gave me a devilish smile and continued on her way. I don’t know if it was incidental contact, or if it was on purpose. I do know that the look she gave me was one of approval, and not one of “Sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”


What does one do in that situation? Do I grab her chest in response? Do I say something like “Now that you’ve met me and my associate, want to do something after the game?” Or do I giggle?


I giggled.


Back to the game. There were many dejected BC fans after the loss. This was, after all, the #2 team in the country losing to an unranked opponent at home. However, there wasn’t much rage amongst the fans. I don’t know if this is good or bad. It was good for me and my coworkers, but on a larger scale, I’m still not sure. Shouldn’t you be pissed after your team plays like crap and costs themselves a bid at the national title? Shouldn’t you be pissed that Matt Ryan had 9 carries and your two RBs combined for 11? Shouldn’t you be pissed that your team was on national TV, being watched by possible recruits, and they embarrassed themselves? I was somewhat disappointed (yet also relieved) at the lack of anger displayed by the BC fans.


About a week ago, I worked the Patriots’ televised scrimmage against Washington. It was an uneventful game and an uneventful event. I had some really drunk, really loud Redskins fans in my section. I had to tell them to watch their language because kids were around. One of them said in a Virginian accent “But we use language like this at FedEx Field all the time.”


To which, I replied “Well this is Gillette Stadium, home of the Patriots, we cheat, we run up the score, but we do NOT swear.” Joking with them like this got them to watch the language, which was good because their team’s performance would have induced torrents of profanity otherwise.


The coolest moment of the evening involved a little boy, about 9 or 10 years old. He tried going down into my section. We stopped him but told him that if he could find someone willing to give him their ticket on the way out, he could go down. He found a ticket, and went all the way down to the front row. After the game, the Patriots players run by the section on the way to the locker room. Heath Evans ran all the way over and gave the kid his gloves. The kid immediately put the gloves on. It was the most adorable moment of the season.


The game also saw what was probably the last time the Patriots cheerleaders will be wearing skimpy clothing. But they went out with a bang. It was three days before Halloween, and the girls were dressed for the occasion. There was a schoolgirl, a nurse, a maid, a construction worker, a cop, a pirate, a fairy, Minnie Mouse, Snow White, Alice in Wonderland, Strawberry Shortcake, and strangely enough Sherlock Holmes.





Without a doubt, my favorite one was the girl scout. Her skirt was so short, it was more like a belt with little bits of fabric hanging down from it. With autumn upon us, it may be the last time the cheerleaders dress in their scandalous outfits.





I’ve been working Boston College hockey, as well. It’s a pretty easy gig, and I love college hockey. Conte Forum has a good atmosphere, but it’s nowhere near the intensity of Cornell’s Lynah Rink. We had some difficulties on opening night. #1 ranked North Dakota came to town (BC was ranked 4th then) but it was abnormally humid out. We were having difficulty keeping the building cold enough for the ice remain frozen.


Two massive dehumidifiers installed for the game caused such a power drain that we lost electricity 10 minutes before the puck was scheduled to be dropped. This caused a delay but was eventually fixed. Then in between the first and second periods, the lights once again went out. After two periods of play, the officials called the game, and it ended as a 0-0 tie. I was disappointed, but I was also happy to get out of there. I’ve never sweat so much in an ice rink before.


The humidity caused a layer of fog to form, hovering at ice level. This happened last year when BC hosted the Terriers of Boston University. But that game was quickly cancelled and easily rescheduled. It would have been much more difficult to reschedule a match with North Dakota.





The next week, BC hosted Merrimack College, thrashing them 7-1. I didn’t see a single second of hockey, but I did wind up with the best post on campus. In the adjacent gym, BC women’s volleyball hosted Duke, and I was assigned to guard the doorway. I don’t know what it is about tall girls, there’s just something about them, though. I fell in love with #11, who had the longest legs and shortest shorts on the team. She also had the most kills (15) for the Eagles in their loss to Duke.


Up next are some games of lower interest. The Revolution host the MLS Eastern Conference Finals on Thursday night, BC hockey hosts Merrimack again, BC football doesn‘t play at home until the 24th against Miami, and the undefeated Patriots don‘t play at home until the 25th.


Some of my ushering statistics:
Events worked: 17
Ejections: 1
Ejection threats: 14
Uncomfortably hit on/fondled: 6
Times I’ve heard “Shipping up to Boston”: 34

Episode 10: Laying Down the Law

It's amazing how boring some of these stories seem to me relative to how exciting they once seemed. Anyway, this was originally written October 9, 2007. This was perhaps the high water mark of Boston sports, as the Pats were undefeated, the Sox were in the playoffs, the Celtics were about to start a season with KG, and BC football was ranked #4 in the country.


Writing wise, and working wise, I'm still learning things. I'm learning to mistrust everyone at an event. I'm learning how to calm two angry people down (treat them like children, don't escalate the situation by acting angry). Things are starting to happen to me more than once. This also means there's less and less new stuff to write about in the event itself. Therefore, I'm in the process of writing more about myself and my reactions to events within the event.


Just one quick observation from the BC-Bowling Green game. When you’re a fan at a game, and the outcome is no longer in doubt, you’ll either get out early to beat traffic, or you’ll stay and watch your team run the score up. As QB Matt Ryan and #4 Boston College (unbelievable, right?) continued to pass the ball, despite a 35 point lead against BGSU, the fans were cheering, and I was irritated. As an usher, when the game is essentially over, you want teams to just run out the clock so you can sit down somewhere.


Now to the Patriots game. This may have been my most difficult, yet most entertaining game to work. I got stuck taking tickets, which wasn’t that bad. I was working next to my friend, which made time fly by. The ongoing joke of the day was a fellow employee who looks like a 2/3 scale clone of Bob Dylan.


We were both working male ticket holder lines (lines are divided by gender for the pat downs), which meant that my friend (who is a girl) was incessantly hit on by drunk guys. It was pretty funny to watch. We counted 10 guys who asked her to pat them down. Oddly enough, I had 1 guy express a desire for me to pat him down. Drink responsibly, people.


Taking tickets is a monkey’s job, only we do it with a smile, and we know how to tell people where their seats are. And it’s pretty light-weight work, as opposed to the poor SOBs doing pat downs in front of us. They have to do about 700 squats and rub down 700 strange men.


Before the gates opened, a helicopter flew low over our gate, then turned and landed on the nearby practice field. And out came Bob Kraft, owner of the Patriots and Emperor of Foxborough. Now there’s a guy who knows how to show up with style. Although, had he landed in the Stadium at the 50 yard line, that would be truly high class.


After taking tickets, I got sent on break. I had a nice chicken sandwich, some cigarettes, and went up to the Managers to be redeployed. They like this. They’ll give you a good spot if you ask them to be redeployed instead of waiting around for them to get you. One of them also calls me a “veteran” because I’ve been working there for 2 whole months now. This also means that I get to choose where I go.
I got deployed to Section 140, which is in the end zone by the lighthouse. These sections offer a great view, but hordes of standing room only (SRO) people, who are the natural rival of the usher.


Everything was going fine until someone complained about two dudes who were standing in the aisle. I went down to talk to them, and they refused to budge, or show me their tickets, until I said “You guys can either leave this section, or leave the Stadium.” That got them moving.


This turned into a whole ordeal, as they complained that someone was in their seats 2 sections over. I made a mistake and didn’t check both of their tickets, just one of them. One ticket really was in the section they claimed to belong to. After much leg work, they both decided to stay in the standing room area, and the issue was resolved.


During the second half, some drama erupted right next to me in my SRO area. Some guy had sidled his way in front of some other guy, so the guy who was there first couldn’t see anymore. Both men were extremely hammered. Some angry words turned into pushing and shoving, which was when I stepped up. Now, I’m not a strong guy, and I’m definitely not intimidating, so I don’t even try to scare people with any sort of implied threat of violence. My power is my ability to eject you, or recommend you get arrested. So I stand in between these drunks and say “Guys, you know I’m security, right? Why don’t all of you just calm down so you can stay here and enjoy the rest of the game?” This was enough for one of them, but not the other one, the man whose “spot” had been stolen. Then the cavalry came… orange shirts! About 10 TeamOps personnel swarmed to my spot, which quickly quieted things down. Also, the guy who stole the spot left, and that allowed things to cool off. It’s nice to know that the cameras are watching your back and not just the opposing sideline.


There were some minor incidents. People refusing to put their cigarettes out, people not understanding the concept of standing behind a line, some guy who kept spitting into a big mug, looking tipsy and bleary eyed about to puke (but he didn’t), chasing off-duty vendors down into the section because they didn’t have tickets. Stuff like that.


Then we nearly had a brawl on our hands. There were five guys in the last row of my section who were standing. This pissed off the standing room people behind them, because they couldn’t see. One kid starting screaming obscenities at the last row people. So I started screaming at the kid. Then it settled for about 5 minutes, and erupted once more as the last row guys turned around and barked back at the kid and his friends. That’s when it had to stop. I beeped my supervisor and stood in between the people. It was essentially a contest between two groups of 5 guys each, arguing about whose was bigger.


One of the last row guys threatened to cut one of the SRO guys’ throats. Then the SRO guy (who was about 25, and the last row guys were in their early 40’s) said “Dude, I’m about 12 years younger than you, that’s like threatening your nephew.” I couldn’t help but laugh.


Eventually the supervisor came over and calmed things down.


I’m still waiting for my first ejection as an usher, and I’m really excited for it. I think we handled the situations perfectly, but any more BS and ejections were imminent.


Here’s a tip for anyone who has crappy tickets but wants to move down to good seats near the end of the game. As people are leaving, ask them for their tickets. Even if we see the exchange, the ticket is what matters, not who holds it (so long as it is legally acquired). We will let you down into the good seats.


At each half’s 2 minute warning, an usher will go down the aisle, crouch/kneel at the bottom until the half ends, then stand there. We call it dropping. At the end of the 4th quarter, I dropped. After the game, I’m standing, waiting for people to leave, and the Patriots cheerleaders run off the field right in front of me. They’re wearing tight tops with plunging necklines, and they ran right underneath me, about 6 feet below where I was standing. Yes, the view was FANTASTIC.





Oh yeah, when Ellis Hobbs broke up a pass in the waning moments of the 4th quarter, he celebrated with the fans about 5 feet in front of me. That was also cool.
After the game, a couple of us wanted to have some beers in the parking lot as we waited for traffic to clear up. But we didn’t have any. We had been told there was a liquor store across the street from the Stadium. So we walk about 2 miles starting from the Foxborough woods and the employee parking lot, and ending at a liquor store that had closed 10 minutes before we had started walking. Disappointment.


But the walk was cool. Some people have crazy tailgate set-ups. And no matter where you were in a parking lot, you could hear the Red Sox playoff game on the radio from somebody’s car. When the Sox went up 4-0, the parking lot went nuts.


HOWEVER, right next to our cars, was a group of TeamOps employees, about 10 or so, tailgating. See, we tailgate after the games. They had sandwiches, chips, and glorious beer. I only knew one of them, but they were all pretty cool. They gave us some free beer, and we chilled there for about 2 hours. It was nice. The next Patriots home game is the 28th. And I will be bringing at least one 30 of Budweiser, my mini tailgating grill, and some beer battered brats.


I can’t wait to see if the cheerleaders are wearing any sort of Halloween costumes. Sexy schoolgirl, perhaps?

Episode 9: BC's Near Embarassment

By this point in my job, I'm finding the events less and less engrossing. They're still interesting, and fun to attend, but I'm less overwhelmed by them. My writing has become more about the random things that happen to happen at an event, rather than about the event itself.


Reading these all again, I like how much more personal my writing style is getting. Not only am I telling more personal stories, and including my own reactions and emotions. But the actual writing is getting more inviting to the reader. I'm telling a story, not describing a fact.


I was also really lucky to start doing this job when I did. My first season at Gillette Stadium saw the Patriots nearly go undefeated. My first season at BC saw the football team rise as high to #2 in the country. Then I saw their hockey team's regular season before they won the NCAA title.


This was originally written October 2, 2007.


With the Patriots on the road, my only ushering of the weekend came at Boston College, as the Division I-AA Massachusetts (UMass) Minutemen came to Chestnut Hill. It was either work this game or the Revolution game at night. I picked this one because I find MLS to be uninteresting, even though I’m a big fan of soccer. I also wanted to keep my night clear because I figured Auburn/Florida would be a good game. I think I was right in that prediction.


This game was the most intense home game for Boston College this season. It was also the closest and most exciting game they’ve played all year. UMass is only 90 miles from BC, which makes them the closest team the Eagles will be playing. Funnily enough, UConn, UNH, and URI are all closer to Boston then UMass.


Anyway, there was a bit of a mix up by my employers. I had signed up to be an usher (green shirt) but they said I was listed as event staff (orange shirt). Event staff leans more toward the security aspects of what we do. At BC, the line between green and orange is blurred since we’re not actually security there. I wound up ushering, which is ironic because had I worn green, I wouldn’t have been an usher.


They originally assigned me to take tickets, but the supervisor had too many people so I eagerly volunteered to be reassigned. I got pretty excited as my new supervisor said we would be working the student section. The student section at BC is quite visible on TV. It’s the section that is all yellow. It is also the only area in the Stadium in which an extremely intense college football atmosphere exists. The student section isn’t part of Boston, it’s a very small part of Tuscaloosa, College Station, Rocky Top, and Columbus.





But I didn’t wind up in the student section at all. I wasn’t too badly disappointed, though. The student section is the hardest to work. There are stories of TeamOps employees entering it, being consumed by the sea of upper middle class kids in yellow shirts, and coming out with broken bones. So I didn’t really mind working in one of the corners, in a section occupied mostly by retired alumni and families.


UMass came into the game ranked #2 in D-IAA (I refuse to call it by that other name). Honestly, I thought BC was going to lose. There’s no way BC would be coming into this game with as much intensity as UMass. And Boston College has a tendency to drop an egg right when they’re riding high.


I’ll quickly summarize the game, because with all that happened on Saturday, I doubt it was given much time on SportsCenter, and it was only broadcast on ESPN360. BC struggled to go up 17-0 by half-time. Then UMass came screaming back in the 3rd quarter to make it 17-14. BC nearly killed themselves with turnovers. A fumble on their own 30 yard line was reversed, and Matt Ryan threw an interception in the end zone that was nullified by an offside penalty. BC eventually pulled away and won 24-14.


I figured a near loss to a D-IAA team would result in BC dropping in the polls. Of course, I didn’t know what had been going on in the rest of college football until I got home. After beating UMass by only 10 points, Boston College rose to 6th and 7th in the two polls. They’re pretty much up there by default.


This game had more visiting fans than any other game this season. I would estimate that 1/3 to 1/4 of the crowd were UMass fans. Normally, this would be a cause for concern for us, but this isn’t much of a rivalry. Furthermore, everyone was still glowing from the Red Sox clinching the AL East the previous night. I didn’t have any problems whatsoever in my sections. There was one moment when UMass fans were chanting “Bullsh*t.” Since the fans were dispersed throughout the section, it was easy for me to put a stop to this behavior by staring down the individuals partaking in the chant.


I only went on one power trip when a couple of UMass kids were standing on my platform. Other than that, the event was hassle free.


One bright spot of the day was when a group of BC cheerleaders went through their routines in front of my section in the 1st quarter. One of them had previously caught my eye at the Army game. She was a redhead with a tan (I’m an absolute sucker for that) and she was the top of their pyramid. So she’s got that going for her. I think I’m in love.


This job has given me a new appreciation for cheerleaders. Not only do they look good, but that’s some hard stuff they do. I used to think cheerleading wasn’t a sport, but I was wrong. They do some difficult and athletic stunts and routines. And they look great doing it. So here’s to cheerleaders!


There was a bizarre fan in my section. He was dressed up as some sort of Native American, with orange shorts, an orange tribal looking shirt, and a pair of Armani sunglasses. He also had a strange little flag that was red with a blue stripe across it. He spent the entire game rain dancing in the last row. It was wicked weird. He looked like he belonged at a Florida State game, not Boston College.


In my previous article, someone asked how to outsmart an usher, or get on an usher’s good side. Well, I have an answer. #1 You should be polite. #2 You should be understanding of the fact that I have a job to do. #3 You should be a wicked hot girl. Simple, right?


With 5 minutes left in the 4th quarter, these 3 smoking hot UMass coeds came walking into my section. I never saw the word “Massachusetts” so beautifully stretched out as it was on their snugly fitting shirts.


They walked up to me and showed me their tickets: Section LL. I was at sections A and Z. LL is in the upper deck on the other side of the field. But they knew this. They also knew the power they had over me. Their leader spoke. “We know we’re in the wrong section, we were just wondering if there was any place down here we could sit.” She had #1 down, she was being polite.


Then she slammed down #2. “Could you just pretend to look at our tickets and point out some empty seats as if they were ours?” I was really impressed by this. She knew the situation I was in. She seemed to know that people are watching me. And since she and her friends also fulfilled requirement #3 in spades, I decided to help them out.


I know what you might be thinking. Rob went soft as an usher just because some hotties were nice to him. Let me just explain that I wasn’t even checking tickets by that point. These girls could have come into my section and walked right past me without showing me their upper deck tickets. There were 5 minutes left in the game, people were leaving, and I figured there wouldn’t be any harm done.


I told them to go to a spot of bleachers that had been unoccupied all day. But one of them had a problem. “You mean right next to that guy staring at us?” I looked over and this dude wasn’t even trying to be discrete. He was fully ogling these girls. Understandably, they decided not to go there. They found some place else to sit, then left 4 plays later, saying “Thank you” to me on their way out. You know, UMass begged me, and I mean BEGGED me to go there. They offered me a scholarship, a huge dorm room my freshman year, first dibs at picking classes, but noooooooooooooo, I had to go to film school at Ithaca. What an idiot I am. These 3 girls were just a small representation of what is out there at UMass.


Anyway, it was an easy and fun game to work. I know it wasn’t as glamorous as some of the other games I’ve worked, like Pats games, or Brazil vs. Mexico, but it was a nice payday, a nice game, and even though I have a sunburn on half my face, whereas the other half is still a bright Irish white, it was worth it.


One problem, though, is that I’m sick and tired of hearing “Shipping Up to Boston” by the Dropkick Murphy’s. The BC band plays it, their sound system plays it, it’s played multiple times at Gillette, it’s jammed into my head like a diamond bullet and it is driving me insane. I’m shipping up to Boston, woah oh oh, I’m shipping up to…..AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


That song had just become hugely popular in Boston. Every sporting event came along with the song. Here's all I have to say about that song...

Episode 8: Pats vs. Bills

We're starting to leave the "Awestruck Phase" of these episodes and my working. By this point, I wasn't like a 5 year old kid in a candy store anymore. I no longer got goosebumps just from seeing Gillette Stadium. I was also becoming assertive and dictatorial in my job. But I was also getting funny with fans and finding ways to help make them enjoy the event moreso.


This is sort of the beginning of my "Niche" phase, which would eventually see me turn from wide-eyed rookie into a regular with a regular post at Gillette.


In this post I get to use a radio for the first time. It's hilarious reading how giddy I was just to listen to it as the event wore on. Some people I've worked with more recently would be shocked to see how giddy and childlike I was back then.


This was originally written September 24, 2007


Let me just start off with a few notes from the BC-Army game I worked on Saturday:
I got to wear a radio and headset for the game. I was positioned in front of some luxury boxes, and the position is in a weird place, where nobody can really see me. So in case I need a supervisor or anything else, I have the radio to communicate.


Listening to the behind the scenes radio for a game is interesting. I knew EVERYTHING that was going on in the Stadium and I couldn’t even see the field. I knew that the Army band was pissed because BC didn’t provide them with free water. I knew that the President of the College was getting flowers delivered to his box. I knew that some guy passed out from the heat, and that a child was missing. She was eventually reunited with her family.


Unfortunately, my radio call-name sucked compared to everyone else’s names. There were names like Romeo 3, Sierra 2, Alpha 5, Command, Observation. And there I was with Uniform 8-1. Shitty. I wanted to be something cool like Fire Team Bravo, or Red Devil 7.


I also got to see Al Skinner (BC’s basketball coach) on his way out after the game. He walked right by me. Nice guy.


Now to the Bills/Patriots game. I woke up at 5 to work this game. I had to get myself ready, drive up to Quincy to pick up my friend, then drive back down to Foxborough to get there by 7:15 AM. That’s right, 7:15 AM. That’s very early for a Sunday. I have never, in my life, woken up earlier than 7 AM on a Sunday before. But it was worth it.


My friend (the one I picked up in Quincy) got hired just this week. She told me a hilarious story from her orientation. The woman sitting next to her said “I know we can’t ask for autographs from the players, or talk to them, but is there any rule against dating them?” Now, I met this girl, and she was cute, but she wasn’t “dating an NFL player” cute. Not by any stretch of the imagination. It’d be like an average looking guy asking “Is it okay if we screw cheerleaders at halftime?” It’s not gonna happen!


The atmosphere at Gillette Stadium for a 1 PM game against Buffalo is much different than an 8:30 PM game against San Diego. There wasn’t as much fire (or alcohol) in the crowd. It was also pretty warm for the first day of fall, a sunny 82 degrees. But I was in the shade the whole time. The warm weather was good, because it means I won’t catch another cold, and it also means the cheerleaders weren’t bundled up in baggy jogging suits.





I was deployed to sections 137 and 138. If you’re watching on TV, I’m a few sections to the left of where the camera is sitting. It’s a pretty good view of the field. It was in the shade, and there weren't many standing room people.


The Patriots got off to a slow start, which definitely had an impact on the fans. People were more pissed off at me than normal when I asked to see their tickets. The standing room people were more belligerent about standing behind the red line. “Why? Why do I have to stand behind the red line?”


And I swear to God, the next person who comes up to me with a standing room ticket and asks me “Where should I go?” I’m just gonna eject from the Stadium for being stupid. Standing room only = only go where there’s room to stand!


Once the Pats started scoring touchdowns, the fans were much happier. Having the first few beers of the day probably didn’t hurt either. I still had to deal with a few complaints, but nothing major. The no-alcohol section is 238, right above mine, and a nice old lady complained that someone brought beer to the section. Call the supervisor over, he kicked him out. To quote my supervisor from the BC game “I love ejections.”


Another person complained about a guy puking in the section. She didn’t care about the guy as much as she cared about the puke. Call a supervisor, he calls housekeeping, they clean up the mess. Everybody’s happy (except the person who has to clean it, I bet).


I had one douche bag think he was cool. He extended his hand as if he were offering a high 5 to me. I complied, then he stuffed a wet paper towel in my hand. That pissed me off. He kept walking, but I told his friend “Tell your buddy it’s not smart to mess with a guy who can toss you out of the Stadium.” I didn’t say the best part, either. If he’s a season ticket holder, and gets one solid complaint from an usher, his tickets are revoked. BOOM! This game was definitely a power trip for me.


I’m not a mean guy. And I politely ask people to follow the rules. I let a lot of stuff roll right off my shoulders. And I’ll bend the rules and let people talk to their friends in the section, or take pictures and stuff. If you’re making fun of my hair (I’m in desperate need of a haircut but I’m too lazy), that’s fine. I’ll even laugh along. I had some guy call me Wayne Campbell last week and I thought it was hilarious. But when you try to push me, I have to push you back. I feel kind of bad doing it, but there’s about 1,000 people in my section, 100 trying to sneak into my section, and 100 trying to stand where they’re not supposed to. Any leak becomes a flood.


Back to the game, which was fun to watch. Another 38 special. I saw 4 Patriot touchdowns right in front of me in the 2nd and 3rd quarters. I also had a perfect view of Welker’s lateral to Moss, which was simply a beautiful play to watch. It was like they planned it.


The final touchdown, a Brady to Moss bomb, was going away from my end of the field, but I still had a great view. I could see Moss go deep right off the bat, and everyone in the place knew what was going to happen before it did. The Stadium exploded as the ball was caught, the points were scored, and the victory was sealed.
Then the gradual exiting began. People leaving right after the TD, then right after the Bills punted, then right after we punted, then when Samuel got an INT, then when we turned the ball over on downs, and so on.


Then people try to sneak into the section. “Excuse me sir, can I see your tickets?” “Umm, I forgot them” they mumble as they turn and walk away.


Then you get people who whine and complain. “But there’s only two of us.” Yeah, but then there’s 50 other people who will say to me “But you let them down.” Then there’s the one season ticket holder who will get annoyed down there that some kids from the 300 level are swearing or something. Then that guy sends an e-mail to my bosses, then we get in trouble.


One thing that kind of sucked was that I was the ONLY usher in the Stadium that was by myself. Everyone else was doubled up at their section. I saw a few sections with 4 or 5 ushers. But I was all alone. Which I guess means they think I’m the best usher there. Strangely enough, my friend got redeployed and wound up working the section next to mine. What are the odds of that? About 75 to 1.


But my skills as an usher are being honed, and I feel like I’m developing into a top quality customer service/security/event staffer guy. One important skill is being able to remember whose tickets I’ve already checked. It’s annoying to be asked for a ticket every time you go up and down for a beer, so I try my best to remember people. Sometimes, they’ll be wearing something, like a certain Red Sox hat, or a BC shirt, or a USC key chain, or sunglasses, or tattoos, anything to trigger my memory. Also, watching people leave the section is a good idea, because your short term memory will retain them for a few minutes while they take a piss and get some beer. Looking people in the eyes is also a good indicator. Do they look like they’ve seen you before? Do they look like they know where they’re going? Do they look like they belong?


The three best moments, apart from the touchdowns, were as follows:
3: Toward the end of the 4th quarter, this girl from the standing room section walked up to me and started talking to me. At first I thought that she just wanted a better view of the game, but she really seemed more into me than anything else. She didn’t even watch the game while talking to me. I told her I graduated Ithaca College, she was from Binghamton. I told her I was a film major, and my cousin directed Cold Case (actually he was the director of photography, but I didn’t feel like explaining what that was), and she said it was her favorite show. She was pretty cute, pretty drunk, and her boyfriend was pretty pissed.


2: A young intoxicated woman was lost. She was in the wrong section. I pointed to the section she should go to, but she insisted that I take her over there. She then begged me to take her over there. As I mentioned earlier, I was alone at my post so I couldn’t leave (there are cameras watching us constantly). I would have taken her over there if I had support, even if she wasn’t hot, which she was. Then she started essentially feeling me up, which I didn’t mind at all. But I still had to send her off by herself.


1: A girl with a generous bust asked me if she needed a ticket to get back down. She asked “Will you remember me?” then pointed to her chest and winked. I smiled and said “Definitely.”


I don’t know what exactly caused these girls (and that one guy I mentioned in my previous post about working the Chargers game) to go after me. Maybe the green uniform does it for them. Maybe it’s the allure of the power I wield. My guess is that it’s the alcohol.

Episode 7: Belichick Strikes Back

This episode is about the Week 2 matchup between the Chargers and Patriots. If you remember back to 2007, in between this win over San Diego, and the previous week's victory over the Jets, that's when all the SpyGate stuff came out. So not only was this game on Sunday Night Football, not only was it the home opener, not only was it a rematch of the previous year's playoffs, it was the first game after SpyGate.


Back in these days of working for TeamOps, I was all about watching the game. It's amazing how little of the game I see now, and how little I care. I'm certainly no less of a fan, but when you can't sit down, have a beer, and enjoy the game; they can lose their glamor. But back in '07, I was still wide-eyed about working at Patriot games.


This was originally written on September 17, 2007.


I woke up at noon on Sunday, with a massive cold. I had worked the New England Revolution game the night before. I must say, that’s a pretty easy gig. There were only 12,000 fans at the game, most of them are families or groups of kids. It was fun, and the kids have fun. But it doesn’t feel like a true sporting event. We only open half of the lower bowl. I worked the Brazil/Mexico friendly on Wednesday and spent Saturday morning watching the English League, so watching MLS was a step down in intensity and level of play.


Anyway, back to football. Like I said, I had a nasty cold. And by the end of the night it would be a heinous cold, but by then I would wind up having more energy than I’ve had in maybe a month.


We have to get to the Stadium extremely early. I got there at 2:00 PM, 6 and a half hours before kickoff. See, the supervisors and managers have to figure out exactly how many people they have in each department, then they have to assign everyone to go there. About 1,000 people are deployed by TeamOps for a Patriots game. It takes a long time to divide that many people up.


I successfully avoided taking tickets and was assigned as an usher. YAY! I would get to see the entire game! I also had a sick vantage point. I was in between sections 116 and 117, which is in one of the corners. If you’re watching the game on TV, my section was on the extreme right of the Patriots’ sideline. Basically, I was in the last row of the lower level. Pretty good seats, people pay $89 to sit in my section and $49 to stand behind it.


Standing around doing nothing before a big football game sucks. It’s cold, windy, there’s pump up music playing on the Stadium sound system, but there’s nobody to pump up.


Talking to people working around me, we’d inevitably talk about what we thought the score would be. My prediction was 31-27 Patriots. Everybody was predicting a Pats win, but all by close scores: 24-21, 27-24, 28-24, and so on. We’d all be wrong about the scores, but we’d all be pretty happy when the night was over.


After a few boring hours of standing around, with only the occasional “Is that Tedy Bruschi warming up?” to offer any sort of diversion, people started to come in more and more. My section slowly began to fill up.


The atmosphere at any sporting event is brought by the fans, not the players. Fans create this contagious buzz that spreads through the Stadium like an airborne virus. And I was infected. Three hours before the game, the Stadium was empty, and I was a tired, sniffling mess. Two hours before kickoff a few people had arrived, and I felt a little better. One hour before kickoff the Stadium was 1/4 full, and I forgot I even had a cold. Thirty minutes before kickoff the Stadium was 2/3 full, and my heart was pounding. Fifteen minutes before, the Stadium was 7/8 full, and I truly was ready for some football.


Right before kickoff, they introduced the Patriots defensive players. Everyone got some cheers, with guys like Bruschi and Wilfork getting the most applause. Then they did something different: they introduced Coach Belichick. The place went fucking nuts. I taped the game and they didn’t show this on TV, but it was awesome to see/hear the support we gave to the much maligned Bill Belichick. If Bill had an emotion chip, he probably would have been happy.





The game was amazing. We totally dominated one of the best teams in the NFL. The first drive was moving away from my section, and I missed the actual TD pass to Watson because I was checking people’s tickets. But you can still feel the plays when they happen, and it is a great feeling. This was only the second regular season game I’ve been to, the first being a week 17 win over the 49ers in 2004. The atmosphere for this game was much better.


I had a good view of Colvin’s 1st quarter interception. It was far away from me, but I could see it happening before it actually did. Once the ball left Rivers hand, and I saw Colvin hovering in coverage, I could see him grabbing the ball out of the air, and maybe even taking it back for 6. We failed to score off the turnover, but you could tell we were in control of this game, even without videotapes.


I got sent on break toward the middle of the 1st quarter. This was right when Olivea was on the ground injured. It was scary for a few minutes because he didn’t move. And after what happened to Kevin Everett, everyone in the place feared the worst. But he got up and appeared to be somewhat OK.


Like I said earlier, there are 1,000 of us working Patriot games, and we all share the same small little break room. The cops assigned to the game also eat there, as do the vendors, maintenance staff, and custodians. So when I got there, I saw a long line or orange, green, and red shirts, and it wasn’t moving forward. I decided that eating a shitty meatball sub wasn’t worth missing the entire 1st half, so I went back to my post. I got back in time to see Randy Moss haul in a touchdown.


I had a great view of Adalius Thomas’ 2nd quarter interception return. That man is fast. He was running right at my section and nobody, not even San Diego’s receivers, was going to catch up to him.


By half-time, we were up 24-0, and we could have been up 35-0 had we been playing our best. The Chargers were being outclassed. Barring some major 2nd half adjustments, this game was over. Furthermore, with such a lead, the Chargers would be forced to run LT much less. San Diego has no deep threat WR, either. Their big plays come once and awhile with Ladanian Thomlinson on the ground, or Antonio Gates making yardage after the catch. Philip Rivers' performance was not very promising for a comeback. There was a general good mood in the Stadium.


During half-time, the most desired information was the Red Sox score. It was 1-1 at the time, but rumors were circulating that it was 2-1 Yankees, or 1-0 Sox. I couldn’t use my phone to find out the actual score. It kind of sucked missing the entire Sox/Yankees game, and it looks like it was a great game, but I didn’t want to be anywhere but Foxborough last night.


San Diego scored on their opening drive of the 3rd quarter, but it took 7:22 off the clock for them to do it. That was kind of fine with me and the rest of the fans. It was still a 3 score game, and there was only about 20:00 left on the game clock.
We only took 3:37 to go the other way and score a TD. This was one of the many nails in the coffin we would drive into San Diego.


During the 3rd and 4th quarter was when I had to deal with the fans the most. The people in my section were well behaved (95% season ticket holders who know if they screw around, they lose their seats), but the standing room people were a bunch of drunk children. It was all in good fun, but they refused to stand behind The Red Line. Actually, they’d stand behind it whenever I asked them to, but a few minutes later they’d cross the line again. But they were good natured about it, and they’d come over to where I was standing and celebrate whenever we scored. I only had a few guys be any sort of trouble. I told him he couldn’t stand where he was standing, and he tried to argue with me about standing there. I was 2 seconds away from calling over the TeamOps manager to dispense with this individual, but he left. Then there was another guy who also felt as though he could stand anywhere he wanted. He argued a bit, then did what I said, calling me a “fucking faggot” in the process. I let it roll off my shoulder, but it’s unwise to make enemies with someone who has the power to kick you out of the Stadium, or have you detained in our holding cell.


The funniest moment of the night came in the 3rd quarter. A drunk guy, in his early 30s, typical guy you’d see anywhere. He was wearing a Patriots shirt and a drunken grin. He walked up to me, I asked him for his ticket. He turned his back a bit, bent over slightly, and displayed the backside of his jeans to me. He pulled out the ticket and said, in a thick Boston accent “I was hoping you’d reach for it.”
“Sorry, sir, I don’t want to do that.” I replied. I checked the ticket, and it was for the wrong section. “Sir, this is the wrong section. Your section is two sections over that way.”


He replied “I know, but I saw you from afah! I just had to come over here, you big hunk. You’re a stud!” He tried holding my hand and hugging me. It was awkward. I knew he was kidding, but when people get that drunk, it’s very weird to be around them. He then asked if I would walk him over to his section but I said I couldn’t. Not that there’s anything wrong with that.


The Chargers scored again to open the 4th quarter. Ellis Hobbs fumbled a kickoff and San Diego recovered, but were able to do nothing with the ball. We then had a 10:07 drive that was a beautiful thing to see. Not only was I happy that we took time off the game clock. It also meant that I’d get home sooner. And when Sammy Morris scored, the Exodus of people trying to beat traffic ensued.


My favorite moment of the night was during the 4th quarter. You probably didn’t hear it on TV, but the 2 sections next to mine began a “Belichick” chant that was phenomenal to hear.


My 2nd favorite moment of the night was when the Patriot cheerleaders switched uniforms. They wore their tight shorts and small top for the 1st half, which are spectacular to behold, but I’m a big fan of the pleated skirt, white shirt, USC Song Girl look. To me, it just looks hotter. They wore their USC-esque uniform in the 2nd half. It’s nice.


My section is the one right above the tunnel to the visiting locker room. So after the game, the Chargers had to walk under me. They were greeted by booing. Shawne Merriman received a mock cheer. LaDanian “9 out of 10” Tomlinson was greeted the loudest as fans mercilessly yelled at him. He took it like a man and did his walk of shame with his head down…right under me. I felt 100 feet tall.


As an usher, blowout games are great! People leave, the Stadium clears out early, and we can go home early. We can’t leave until the Stadium is cleared. The Revolution game on Saturday took 30 minutes to clear, and was only 12,000 people. I feared that the Patriots game would take much longer with 70,000 fans. But it only took 20 minutes to significantly clear. Then traffic wasn’t that bad, it only took 30 minutes to go the 6 miles to my house. It normally takes 15 minutes when there’s no traffic.
I felt great after the game. I still had that cold, my nose was stuffed more than Route 1 after the game, and I had been on my feet for 7 hours, but I had all the energy in the world. I couldn’t sleep until about 4:30 AM.


This morning, I woke up and the cold is even worse than before. It looks like I’ll be in bed all day, eating Sudafeds. But all the Patriot haters out there will be eating crow for breakfast, lunch and dinner. And I saw it all live and in color.


PS: I know this is poorly written, but I’m very sick and I just had to write about this experience right away.


PPS from 2 years in the future. It's written well, Rob.

Episode 6: Brazil vs. Mexico

This was one of the more entertaining events to partake in when I first got this job. The Brazilian national soccer team, fully complimented with its stars, made a trip to Gillette Stadium to play a friendly against Mexico. For those non-soccer fans out there, a friendly is like a tune-up game.

Looking back on my behavior as mostly ticket-taker/usher, I can't help but laugh. I was so shy in this job when I first started. I remember in this game being an usher in 124, and not even checking tickets. If this event happened now, I would've cleared my aisle every 5 minutes, especially as I had another usher with me.

From a writing perspective, this episode kicks-off my more personalized style. I talk about how much I enjoy leering at hot Brazilian women, and so on. Instead of trying to describe the events I worked, I'm describing myself through the event. Or something like that.

This was originally written September 13, 2007.


I’m going to go slightly out of chronological order for this part of the series. I worked at the Boston College/NC State game last weekend, was in the middle of writing about it, then all hell broke loose when the Patriots were caught committing the heinous act of video espionage. Sarcastically, I considered quitting my job as an usher when that story broke. But anyway, for my two or three loyal readers out there, expect my NC State episode to come soon. This episode is all about… Brazil vs. Mexico.


Let me try to set the scene for you. All us ushers are at one of the gates at Gillette Stadium. The supervisors are briefing us about taking tickets. But we can barely hear them. Because beyond the Stadium walls is this constant symphony of salsa music, air horns, whistles, and Portuguese yelling/singing.


We walk up to the gate, and there’s a sea of yellow clad Brazilian fans, with a few Mexican fans intermixed. They’re yelling, jumping, singing, dancing, playing soccer, and there are thousands of them. And this is 2 and a half hours before the game starts.


None of us know what to expect. This is a different kind of crowd for all of us. Frankly, I was nervously excited. I love soccer. I’ve been to 2 EPL games in London, but I’ve never seen an international match. And I’ve certainly never seen the #1 team in the world (Brazil) play.


But logistically, this game was a massive challenge for us. We were understaffed (difficult to get people to work a Wednesday night, 99% of TeamOps employees have other jobs). We had about 250 people, for an anticipated crowd of 65,000+. There were the potential language problems. Almost all of the fans would be making their first visit to Gillette Stadium so they‘d all be lost. We didn’t have enough people for pat downs at the gates. We just checked bags and turned everyone loose inside.


I remember driving down to Foxborough for the game, and once I hit the town line, I entered a new world. There were Brazilian and Mexican flags everywhere. There were signs in Portuguese, there were people yelling at each other from their cars. It was madness. But this isn’t madness… THIS, IS, SOCCER!!!


Anyway, back to the gates, right before the game. The first thing I had noticed was the masses of people there. For a Patriots game, there are maybe 100 people at the gates right when they open. People are tailgating and stuff and take their time coming in. There were maybe 2,000 to 3,000 people already packed in front of the gate for this game.


The second thing I noticed were how many smoking hot Brazilian women there were. These women are on a level of beautiful that is purely divine. And they were really friendly, too. You know when you have to deal with an American girl who knows that she’s a 10, and knows she owns you, and acts like she‘s pissed off all the time. Well these girls were really nice and seemed really happy. They would be a constant entertainment for me for the remainder of the evening. Maybe I’m being a tad misogynistic or chauvinistic, but when a girl dresses up in skin tight pants, and a two inch wide tank top that has “Brasil” stretched across her chest, I think staring is acceptable, if not expected.





Seeing these hotties made me question something: If these are the kind of girls they produce in Brazil, why the hell are all the men spending so much goddamned time playing and watching soccer? You guys can’t think of anything better to do with your free time?


We opened up the gates and people began streaming through. The language problem wasn’t that bad. The only person I had difficulty understanding was actually an Englishman. He said something like “My friend has my ticket on the nine five, can I get in though?” I had no clue what he was referring to until I finally realized he meant I-95.


Scanning tickets went along with few glitches. The usual stuff, tickets refusing to scan, people at the wrong gate, and so on. But I’ve never had so many men trying to dance with me. Come to think of it, I’ve never had any man try to dance with me until last night. These guys would dance their way through the line, come up to me, I’d scan their ticket and they’d say something like “Brasil djonill!!!” and start dancing next to me. It was strange, but funny.


Finally, I got a break, ate a crappy hamburger, and was redeployed as an usher. I missed the entire first half, and the score was 1-1 when I got stationed at section 124 behind the goal Brazil was attacking.


The place was a madhouse. No rules applied. Normally, as an usher, our job is to keep people from standing in the aisles, going where they shouldn’t go, and from sitting in the wrong section. But this stuff just wasn’t happening tonight. There was me and this other guy at this one section, and there were a few dozen people standing where they shouldn’t be. We were told before the match that we should let a lot of small things go because we were understaffed and so long as people were just having fun, it wasn’t a big deal.


Our job description for this game was to make sure nobody was dying, be a set of eyes to report any fighting (the fans were undivided, so Brazilian and Mexican fans were side by side), help people if they were lost, and ensure that the smoking hot Brazilian hotties were sufficiently leered at.


The game was amazing. I had to keep telling myself “This is the best team in the world out there. There’s Ronaldhino, there’s Kaka, and I’m getting paid to watch them.”


At the 78h minute, I told my fellow usher: “Brazil is going to score soon, the entire game is being played in this half.” Two minutes later, Kaka slammed home a goal and the Stadium shook. A few minutes later, Brazil added the clincher and won 3-1.





We cleared out the Stadium, waiting for fans to take their pictures of themselves with the empty field in the background. Getting out of there was slow. Traffic was at a standstill at the exits. The parking lot was filled with dancing and singing fans, some playing soccer on the asphalt, and a set of tremendously loud speakers blasting Brazilian music.


I got out of the parking lot 30 minutes later. On Route 1, there were a lot of hitchhikers on the side of the road. I was paying too much attention to navigating traffic and avoiding pedestrians to notice a few of them in time. There was a group of 4 beautiful girls, absolutely perfect (from what I could see at night going 40 MPH). But by the time I noticed how hot they were, it was too late for me to slow down and pick them up. Oh well. Maybe the next time Brazil plays in Foxborough, I’ll keep an eye out for these kinds of fans. I’ll also brush up on my Portuguese.


Ei menina sexy, quer uma carona?


That's Portuguese for something close to "Sexy lady, want a pickup?"

Episode 5: Welcome to Boston College

This episode describes the experience of working my first Boston College event: a football game with ACC rival Wake Forest. This was sort of the end of my naive and bright-eyed period of working events. My natural cynicism and hatred of people really comes out to shine thanks to this event. I've since grown to love BC. I've worked EVERY single hockey game they've hosted the last 2 years, and most of the men's and women's basketball. This was originally written on September 4, 2007.


I had never been to a Division I-A football game before. I’ve seen football in Alumni Stadium, but it was always high school football. My first day working at Boston College was one of highs and lows. I went from wanting to quit at one point, to realizing why I got this job in the first place.


I also worked the Patriots pre-season game on Thursday. I didn’t see a single play, but that was by choice. I volunteered to take tickets. Kickoff was 7:38, but it’s amazing how many people will show up late, I mean real late, for a pre-season game. I didn’t go on break until about 9:30, and people were still streaming into the gates.
After working the gates, I went on break, had some food, and a supervisor asked who wanted to go home. Since it was the 3rd quarter of a pre-season game, and the traffic was going to be in mid-season form, I raised my hand and went home early.


Navigating the concourses during half-time of a football game should be an Olympic sport. Getting from the north side of the Stadium to the south side took me about 10 minutes, which might be close to a record for half-time.


One thing I like about this job is the variety of people I work with. The guy taking tickets next to me was a civil engineer who specialized in water treatment and storage facilities. He explained to me the science behind water usage at a facility like Gillette Stadium. Then a guy doing pat downs in front of me was a semi-retired man who gives speeches to companies and consults them on how to rebuild themselves during struggling times. Then there are a few recent college grads like myself. There’s a very good cross-section of people.


Anyway, back to BC…


Getting to Boston College on game day is tricky. There is nowhere near enough parking for fans, let alone employees, so they have us park in the Needham Industrial Park right off of 128. Those familiar with Eastern Mass know this area, it’s right around exit 19A, by the Coca-Cola bottling plant. BC runs buses from here to Merket Hall, next to the Stadium. It’s about a 20 minute bus ride because they take the most circuitous route possible, going through Newton, Brookline, back to Chestnut Hill, then Salem, Gloucester, Portsmouth, NH, then back to Boston College.


Working the gates at Patriot games is fun. Working the gates at Boston College sucks on more levels than I thought something could suck. There’s no security in front of you, the scanners often go offline of their wireless networks, and the people at BC are simply obnoxious pricks for the most part.


Boston College people are the cream of the upper middle class in Boston. These are the doctors, lawyers, teachers, corporate middle managers, and small business owners of New England. These are the people who got rejected, or never applied to, Ivy League schools, but still had good SAT scores and GPAs. These are the people who could easily afford the $38,000 a year, or whatever it was they had to pay to go there. These are the people who sat atop Chestnut Hill, looking down on the rest of the schools in Boston, and thought they were better than BU, Northeastern, Emerson, Suffolk, UMass, Bentley, Brandeis, and because they had parties and weren’t complete nerds, thought they were above Harvard and MIT people.


Now, this isn’t every BC student/alum. And it wasn’t every BC fan I encountered at the gates. But it was about 40% of the people who came through my gate on Saturday.
BC had just implemented a new policy: Fans must enter the gate that it tells them to enter on their ticket. I was assigned to Gate D. At first, as traffic was slow, it was easy to tell people to go to Gate C, or Gate E, or Gate A (the student gate). And most people were fine with that.


Then this one kid came through my gate. His ticket said “Gate C” so I told him to go to Gate C. But the ticket taker next to me had already scanned in his father. His father started yelling at me from inside the gates. So I said “OK, I’ll scan him in then. Sorry, I didn’t know you were together.” And the father gave me the most condescending look from under his BC hat. It was a look that said “Who the fuck are YOU, kid? Telling ME, an alumnus of THE Boston College, where I can and can’t go?”
Then an older gentleman approached, also with Gate C tickets. I politely told him to go to Gate C. And he yelled at me. He yelled at me about how he was old, and handicapped, and how he’d been coming to games for years, and how his seats were right there. I quickly gave in and said “Sorry, sir, I’ll let you in. I apologize.” It was the first time I wanted to quit this job.


I gave up on the whole wrong gate thing, and just let everyone in. Then my scanner went offline. You see, they’re on a network, and they send and receive info from the database to see if a ticket is valid, and to get the correct attendance figure. But mine kept floating off and on the network. And even when it was online, it had trouble scanning, so I went to the backup plan, which is ripping stubs and putting the bar code in my pocket.


By this point, about 45 minutes before game time, I had met a fairly large number of mean, nose upturned Boston College fans. I had also met a few really nice BC fans, including a priest, which tends to happen at a Jesuit run school. But I must say that the Wake Forest fans were the nicest people I’ve ever met in my life. They were all wearing black and gold, and most had strong North Carolinian accents. I’d say “Welcome to Boston College” and they’d start up a conversation with me. I’d say “How are you today?” They’d politely respond and ask me how I was, AND ASKED ME WITH SINCERITY! It was amazing. These people actually gave a rat’s ass how the lowly ticket taker was. For a few hours, I wished I was an usher in Winston-Salem, NC.


After scanner malfunctions and obnoxious BC assholes, I was ready to quit. If I had seen the guy that runs TeamOps at BC, I would have told him I was done. I went on break, didn’t see him, smoked 3 cigarettes in 10 minutes, then was redeployed. I got sent to the East Side of the Stadium. I was placed at Section R, which was right behind the Wake Forest bench, at the 40 yard line. In other words, the best freaking seat (I had to stand) in the house. I was standing in front of where Row 1 would be, right next to the 50 yard line, about 5 feet from the Wake Forest players. And all I had to do was make sure nobody was standing near the entrance to the section or on the stairs.


I had a sick view of some amazing plays. The interceptions Dejuan Tribble hauled in. BC’s 4th and 1 stop in the 4th quarter. The big hits, the big passes, everything. I could hear the Wake Forest coaches talking to their players, and could see the plays they drew up on their white board. I knew what the Deacons were going to do before anyone else in the Stadium. When there was a big play, and the band would start up, the Stadium would vibrate, and I’d get goose bumps. It was truly awesome. And it was why I applied for this job, to be close to, and almost a part of the action.


One absolutely horror filled moment came in the middle of the 3rd quarter. I had expected to see kids from my high school at the game, even kids I hadn’t really liked. So I was ready for that. But I wasn’t ready for my former principal and dean of discipline, sitting in my section. God, what a shitty moment that was. I wanted to go the rest of my life without dealing with that fucker and there he was, in Section R, with his kids, in the 1st row, right in front of me. Real unfortunate moment there.


Near the end of the 4th quarter, I got sent to guard the players’ exit off the field. Pretty simple stuff. The players go through the concourse underneath the stands. They curtain off the area, and we stand in front of it. Then we had to go out and “flush” people from the Stadium. One woman and her friend gave us some shit, saying “Her husband works for Boston College.” The game had been over for nearly an hour by this time, but the Boston College attitude was still in full force.


Anyway, I got paid about $70, had to deal with assholes for about 2 hours, but also got to see 3 quarters of great football from a great vantage point.


I love my job.