Episode 31: Movin' on Up, to the (300) East Side

Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber came to Gillette. It was my first event supervising on my own. But of course, as I discussed in the last Episode, you're never alone. At least you shouldn't be.

I was designated Romeo-9 (response team #9), and would start out at the East Gate, then move up to the east side of the 300 level. For a normal concert, the cheap seats can get a tad harry. But this was not a normal concert. Normal concerts don't have large pick-up/drop-off areas for parents to collect their kids.

I was thankful for this irregularity. I felt it was a good way to grace into the whole supervising routine, with a crowd that would, for the most part, be sober. Then again, I've heard stories of full-blown fist-fights breaking out at an Alicia Keys show. And the possibility of two 13 year old guys slapping each other over a 14 year old girl did enter my mind before the concert. Especially since it'd be humiliating to get my ass whooped by some junior high sprat on my first day running a roam team.



I was more thankful to have a reliable and assertive female with us, because EVERYTHING we dealt with involved females. I'd estimate that 85 to 90 percent of the crowd were females. And most of the males were dads, apart from two jacked frat looking dudes that entered through our gate, and they stood out like blood on a wedding dress.

The whole supervisors routine was still not routine for me. We have our meeting in this auditorium, where I'm told the Patriots hold their postgame press conferences. I guess that's kind of cool. Before the meeting, all 4 and a half feet of Justin Bieber walked by. Not nearly as cool. During the briefing, it was vividly stressed that this would be a "HANDS OFF" event.

Now it's not like we roam around cracking skulls at other concerts or Pats games. But considering that most people in attendance wouldn't even have their learner's permits, it was heavily emphasized that we'd be extra careful with how we handled situations. We wouldn't HANDle them at all. We'd manage them. And if there were a female involved, we'd womanage them.

After the briefing, Taylor Swift walked by us. That's slightly cooler, but she's not my type. Sorry, hun. Bulk up, eat some Spaghettios.



After mustering my staff together, we took a walk up to the 300s before heading to the gate. My God that is a long trek. The ramp we took is 1,400 feet (a tad more than 1/4 mile) in length. And the grade is somewhere between 7 and 10%, at least that's what I'd estimate. It seems steeper the higher you get.

Meanwhile, I'm dragged down by a pair of pants that weighs around 20 pounds. I had 2 flashlights (one makes a harsh ultra-bright spot, the other is a broader and gentler light, and I wanted two in case someone on the team forgot theirs), my cel phone, my radio, my keys, ponchos for everyone (rain had been forecast, though all the storms would skirt around the Stadium), earplugs for everyone, my paperwork, contact lens moisturizer, contact lens case, 2 handwipes, chapstick, 3 small packs of gum, 2 pads of paper, and 3 pens.

That doesn't sound like much, but it adds up, especially in June, and especially hiking 1,400 feet to the Stadium summit. I felt like those cops on Flashpoint who carry a thousand different things in their overstuffed pants and jackets.



I even had a utility belt that toted my radio, my flashlight holster, and a cell phone caddy. I wasn't trying to look overly coplike or militant, it was just the best way to haul so much stuff around, but also keep it accessible.


Bart's New Belt

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After that, we went down to the East Gate, which would be where a lot of the floor tickets passed through. The gate was set-up differently from normal, but was actually quite sensible. Bicycle fencing created a corral around the gate, and three tables were arranged inside for bag checks. It took some thinking over to realize how it'd work, but it all went according to plan.

There was a girl a few yards from the gate who requested first aid. Then some floozies wanted to know where to pick up their StubHub tickets. They then wanted an escort across Route 1 from me or one of the males on my team. Not much else happened. We went inside, took our break, then headed up to the 300s.

By this time, Justin Bieber was on stage. Or so I was told. His voice was an octave higher than the squeeling masses of tweenage fans who now filled Gillette Stadium to the brim.

And a tall brim it is. I don't have acrophobia. Heights have never bothered me much. Looking down from the top of a skyscraper doesn't bug me. But turning my back on that height does. I have no idea why that is. I guess because I want to know precisely where the edge is. But all and all, being up high in the 300s was no big deal. It was nice being so far above the speaker banks that I didn't need earplugs.



There were some minor, unremarkable incidents. Then a woman complained about the drunk girls in the seats behind her.

Don't stand out in a crowd. That's the best way to prevent being ejected from a game/show. Have a few drinks if you'd like, but don't get obnoxious and loud when you're drinking at a Taylor Swift show. As we accompanied the two girls out of their seats, other fans from adjacent aisles thanked us. And that's a reaffirming feeling. We usually enjoy torrents of slurred abuse when we evict someone.

We uneventfully had alcohol shutdown a few minutes after Taylor Swift took the stage. There was nobody in line for beer, so nobody to complain, or beg to be bestowed that one last drink.

After the 5th or 6th song of her set, Taylor Swift emerged at the top of one of the 100-level sections. She sang and strolled her way down the aisle, then stepped onto the floor. A few of our teams participated in the stunt, making sure the aisle was clear in front of her, and so on. As I looked down from my perch in the 300s, I thought to myself "That used to be me. The team I was once a part of gets assignments like that." Assignments like hanging out with Tom Cruise.

Meanwhile, up in the 300s, it was a by the book, no frills, no thrills kind of night for Romeo-9. No escort of Taylor Swift. No VIPs to look after. No cheerleaders to guide (yes, that happened to us before). No going on the field at the end of a hotly contested international soccer match to walk with the referees.

But that's the deal, isn't it? I equate it to being an offensive coordinator for the Patriots, then taking a job as the head coach of some mediocre college program. Yeah, you're calling the shots and running your own show, but you have to give up a little bit of the "glamor." You'll be the #1 guy in the spotlight, but the spotlight will be dimmer.



Throughout the concert, I strove to balance my own self-centered sense of personal responsibility, along with the fact that I can't do everything alone. At one point, a member of our team reminded me "There's no 'I' in roam team."

"There's an 'I' in Zeitz, though," I quipped, like a smartass.

And I'd say I did a good job of delegating responsibility, but also taking control of situations. Having good, trustworthy staff was the key to that. When I can ask someone to go do something and know it'll get done, it makes it easier for me to stay focused on what I'm doing.

Coordinating with the ushers also went smoothly. After the show we did the sweep of the 300 level, ensuring that only employees remained. The usher supervisors provided staff to check the ramps and stairs, and we swept the 300s with remarkable speed.

On the way down the ramp, three separate parties of people halted our snappy sweep. Two groups were waiting for friends/family to come out of the suites. Another group was trying to return their mother's Stadium ID to her up in the 300s.

And this was the last time I'll try to find that 100% utterly perfect solution to a problem. I waited 5 minutes, as all three groups said the person they wanted to meet was "Coming right now."

And of course none of them were coming to meet any of these people. It finally dawned on me to tell the suite people to meet up with their buddies outside the Stadium. I didn't know where to tell the kids with the ID to go. I tried calling it in on the radio, but my mind had been toasted to a crisp by that point:

"I have two kids, ramp, mother, ID, card, employee, where should they meet?"

I'm not kidding. It was a jumble of words pertaining to the situation, but completely out of order and lacking any coherence. I got a good lesson in teamwork as my radio girl called in a more intelligible description of the situation. Then the two kids started walking out so the problem solved itself.

We got to the bottom of the ramp and I released my staff, thanking them for a job well done. That's a nice treat for me that I've enjoyed, being able to thank people for helping me out.

A few minutes later, my former team arrived, completing their sweep. Not only did they get to staff Taylor Swift's walk through the crowd, they met her Dad, and they had the impeccably beautiful Ayla Brown dancing in the aisles of their section.



That would have been fun to write about. But I had a different kind of fun. And that's how it's been so far. Being a supervisor hasn't been better or worse than what I was doing before. It's been different. Of course, it seems better when paychecks are issued.

Next Episode: I supervise a typical concert and an atypical soccer game.

Episode 30: The Shadow

Well after three years and countless events (I estimate it to be around 290 total, with around 70 of those being large-scale events), they've made me a supervisor. Scary, isn't it? I'm responsible for other people.

And to be honest, it took that many events, and that much time for me to be mature, decisive, and confident enough to be a supervisor. I still remember the overwhelming feeling of taking tickets at my first Pats game. How can one feel overwhelmed by taking tickets? I'm kind of ashamed to admit that I was, and only do so now because I'm not overwhelmed anymore.

I remember the power trips I'd go on as an usher. How thrilled I'd be to participate in the ejection of an annoying fan. Now I do my utmost NOT to kick someone out.

I remember chain-smoking before events to ease my anxiety, not being able to sleep the night before a Pats game, and needing 20 hours of lying down to rest my feet after a 10 hour event.

I've come a long way; from timid ticket taker, to uppity usher, to reserved and reticent roamer, to reassured radio guy, and now hopefully a sure-handed supervisor.

My first taste of supervising came when the Revs hosted Portuguese champs Benfica. I was "shadowing" another supervisor, leading a roam team. The shadowing process is a way to gradually introduce potential supervisors to the ins and outs of the position. But it's also a step in the evaluation process. I shadowed a roam team supervisor, but was actually told to run the team for the night.



Thankfully, I was working with people I've worked with dozens of times, and who I trust. Nevertheless, it was a very different, almost jarring experience. I learned a great deal, and in abrupt fashion.

As I mentioned, Benfica were in town to play the Revs. We had about 13,000 fans show up, almost all of whom wore the red colors of Benfica. One particular duty of our team was to cover the visitors' tunnel.



It's a fairly straightforward task, but it's a highly visible post, so there's little margin for error. For pregame, we had two staff at the bottom corners, and two at the top. Minimal coverage, but all that was necessary.



At half-time, we supplemented our coverage with staff from another team. This kind of interteam cooperation is something altogether new to me. It sounds so basic and simple, particularly in this cases, but in other instances it's been a very novel concept for me. Anyway, just before half-time, I had to brief the additional staff on what to do. I was surprised at how succinct I was:

"Go down the aisle, walk into the row about 1/3 of the way down, go all the way to the edge of the tunnel, crouch until half-time, then stand up, watch the crowd. DO NOT look out to the field, or into the tunnel. Watch for projectiles, and get my attention if anything happens."



That went off without a hitch. The Benfica fans were loud, passionate, and highly excitable, though quite orderly. And they didn't come to Gillette to hurl bottles at their favorite team.

But not everyone in attendance was a Benfica supporter. Two guys showed up wearing the green and white stripes of Sporting Clube de Portugal (which I erroneously called Sporting Lisbon, but that's a common mistake that even ESPN has made). Sporting CP and Benfica are bitter rivals.



And these two green and white clad guys not only stood out, they spoke out. It was all in good nature, but that's tough to tell when people are yelling at each other in a foreign tongue. And as a general rule, you always observe the guys/gals who stick out. Whether it's the Notre Dame fan at BC football, or the 60 year old guy loitering by the bathrooms at a Taylor Swift concert.

The two Sporting CP fans not only drew the crowd's attention (and subsequently ours), they drew some followers: more guys wearing the green and white. They coalesced into a gang of maybe 10 Sporting CP fans, and roamed from section to section in our corner of the Stadium, being annoying, but not antagonizing. They were pests, not threats.

In general, it was a quiet night, until the 85th minute of the game. This tends to happen. You'll spend most of your time roaming the concourse, fielding general questions about seat locations and the club-level elevators. You'll discuss with your team how quiet the night's been. Then multiple things transpire at once. And if you don't stay loose and relaxed in your head, you're toast.

Around the 85th minute, I had to brief some of the ushers to help us cover the visitors' tunnel, a missing child report was being broadcast over the radio, an usher pointed out a potentially drunk patron propped up against a steel column, and there was some sort of commotion going on a few sections to our left.

Two new charges/challenges for me as supervisor are:
#1: Delegating responsibility within my own team.
#2: Coordinating responsibilities with the other teams so that we work together in concert.

My radio guy jotted down the lost child's info (and yes, he was eventually reunited with his parents). The supervisor I was shadowing went to check on the commotion in section 120. But another team had shifted south towards our "territory," as they knew that our team had the tunnel, so they filled in and picked up the slack. I found a pair of policemen to give the potentially drunk guy a sobriety check. But I couldn't stay long enough to get the guy's information or ticket, as I had to brief a half dozen ushers for the tunnel. Over the radio, I called in the sobriety check, while simultaneously conversing with the ushers. And I do mean simultaneously:

"Romeo-2 to Observation. Alright guys we're going to be covering the visiting team tunnel. I have police already on scene giving a sobriety check to a male behind Section 117. We want to ensure that nothing gets thrown at the players when they come off. Copy that. Go down the aisle, walk into the row about 1/3 of the way down, go all the way to the edge of the tunnel, crouch until half-time, then stand up, watch the crowd. Romeo-2 to Observation. DO NOT look out to the field, or into the tunnel. That sobriety check behind 117 has resulted in a PC. Watch for projectiles, and get my attention if anything happens. I copy."

I sent the two staff from my team to the bottom corners again, then asked the ushers which side of the tunnel they'd prefer to cover. I then asked myself "Does that matter? And who the hell would have a preference anyway?" So I arbitrarily directed "You two go left, you two go right."



As you can tell form this blog, I think a lot. I'm pensive, contemplative, I drill down, I dissect, I analyze, I examine and reexamine. It's a strength and a liability. I rarely make the same mistake twice, but I've been prone to hesitate with simple decisions like which ushers should cover which side of the visitors' tunnel.

But I've learned that a lot of things don't need to be thought over or analyzed, they just need to get done. And I've also noticed that in high-stress situations, I just do what I do. Then when the proverbial smoke clears, I'll give it a think. And in the above situation, I spent more time thinking about who should cover which side of the tunnel, than I did about the sobriety check/missing child/usher briefing cluster.

There's an old poker adage: "Think long, think wrong." Don't think about that. It's true.

As Benfica slowly vacated the field, one by one, some of their members lingered in the tunnel, signing autographs. Fans would float down a jersey or hat, the player would sign, then toss the paraphernalia back. I thought it was pretty cool of them.

Unfortunately, this wasn't enough for some fans in another part of the Stadium. Several "invaded the pitch," which is soccer lingo for hopping onto the field. While our team couldn't really do much about that as we were fully enveloped by Benficans and 60 yards way, I still learned yet another lesson.

A roam team went onto the field too. They didn't try to tackle or apprehend the invaders. And nobody got tased.



The team went down to the field to DIFFUSE any incidents, to DETER against any further encroachment, and to be present to DEFEND the players/coaches if need be. The Three D's. I just made that up. And I was impressed by the gall and the initiative of the team, coupled with their composure not to escalate a manageable mess into a full blown YouTube moment.

The Police also deserve a big nod, as they ensnared the fans on the field without incident.

The lesson was: You've got to be firm and vigorous, but not aggressive.

I shadowed the next game at a gate. I've worked at gates countless times, taking tickets at Gillette and BC. I've heard those little scanners PING so many times I feel like the overworked, burnt out sonar operator of a submarine.



But supervising at a gate was still very new. It's not rocket science, but there's a lot of detail and nuance to it. Retrieving the scanners, gathering the required wristbands, mustering your staff, ensuring they all have meal-tickets/water/ponchos, briefing them, testing the scanners, deploying the staff, arranging the signage, setting-up the tables, unlocking the gates, distributing the scanners. Et cetera.



Then the gate officially opens and you have to support your staff. Give answers to the obscure questions that will invariably be asked of them. Stand by them when they tell someone that their umbrella isn't allowed into the Stadium. Tell guests that purses are indeed bags and need to be checked. Adjust and possibly repair the scanners.

It's weird. I've rarely had to keep my eyes and ears so wide open. Because I've never had staff before. So needing to be attentive was something new to me. And while I enjoyed it at this moderate Revolution game, I can't yet fathom how much more amplified all these tasks are for a Patriots game, where 45,000 people try to enter the Stadium in 30 minutes. It sounds challenging. I've been liking challenges lately.

After breaking off the gate, I did the roam team shadowing thing again. This was a much more typical event. The New York Red Bulls were in town, but fortunately, their wannabe-hooligan-firms were not. The US National Team was playing in Philly that afternoon, and the jerks from Jersey went down that way instead of up to Foxboro. So there was no repeat of the Boston Pepper Party.

There was one semi-incident that taught me a good lesson. A woman complained to an usher that some kids behind her were frequently and loudly swearing. The usher informed his supervisor, who summoned us over. The problem was that the woman didn't point out which fans were swearing, just that they were "around rows 5, 6 and 7." Then the woman went on her way along the concourse, disappearing.

So only the usher could identify the woman, and only the woman could identify the offending parties. I realized all this about halfway down the aisle into the section. And as I concluded that I had no idea who I was looking for, I decided to keep going.

In the past, I've been especially hesitant and uncertain when I don't have sufficient information. This would, at times, infuriate my old team's supervisor. Sometimes you just have to go in without knowing every available bit of information, and it took me some time to learn then implement that lesson.

But I honestly had no plan as to what to do or say once I got to the area around rows 5 thru 7. I arrived, and a couple fans looked at me and the usher. And like a substitute teacher I asked "Who down here's been swearing?"

And of course nobody answered.

I broke the silence. "Well, it'd better stop."

In retrospect, I should have gone down the aisle slowly, loitered a bit above row 7, hoping to catch the profanity myself, then talk to the ones spouting it. If instead, nobody sore, I could drop to the bottom of the aisle, give the old look-over of the entire section, remind people that we exist, then be on my way.

The lesson I learned there was that sometimes there is no perfect solution to an issue. Frequently, circumstances will conspire to prevent achieving that 100% satisfactory resolution. Recognizing this is key, and must be followed by an adaptation in approach in order to achieve as decent a result as possible. That's a fancy way of saying, sometimes you've got to compromise with reality, do the best you can, and understand your limitations.

Do what Pringles did, when they ordered rubber but got potatoes. They filled their tubes with chips instead of tennis balls.


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As much as I've learned in 290 events, there's still a great deal of education left for me. My last Episode was about how far I've come as an individual, both in my job at Gillette Stadium, and outside of it. But that individualistic focus is merely the beginning. I now have to refocus toward a collective and cooperative approach.

When supervising, I'm responsible for my staff, and they're responsible for me. There's no militaristic rank structure, no salutes. I'll giggle if one of my staff ever calls me "sir." There's no division between supervisor and staff, at least there shouldn't be.

I feel that a major aspect of being a good supervisor will be changing my attitude from a "me," to a "we," kind of perspective. Shadowing at the gates, and running a roam team was like being the quarterback, which means I was dependent on those around me, and they were dependent on me. I may have called most of the plays, and gotten the snap, but WE did things well, and WE made occasional mistakes, and WE will learn from them.

Now imagine that there are multiple quarterbacks, with multiple sets of receivers, rushers, and blockers. And all these groups are trying to work together for the same purpose. That's something more than teamwork, that's a coalition or alliance. Each undertaking separate specific tasks, but frequently overlapping and (ideally) cooperating.

You can peruse history and see a multitude of failed and successful alliances.

In World War I, for instance, the Germans, Austrians, and Turks never coordinated. They hardly communicated. Germany tried to dominate the alliance and get Austria to fight the Russians. But Austria wanted to fight the Serbs.

Meanwhile, the French and British had some strife in their alliance, but they eventually smoothed things out. They coordinated attack and defense, shared resources and ideas, and had a clear joint objective.

Alright, I know, it's not war at Gillette Stadium. But it's still a massive task to pull off a Full Stadium Event. To have 70,000 assemble, park, congregate, enter a Stadium, enjoy a show/game, leave safely, have a good night; is an epic achievement. And it takes a lot of people working TOGETHER to pull it off.

Being a part of this larger machinery is quite intriguing. And I'm loving what I'm learning about myself, about others, about how people function together. It's been quite fascinating so far.

Next Episode (coming very soon): I actually supervise on my own