I have this way of viewing the world, which shapes my experience of any given moment. It’s usually through a filmmaker’s lens, figuratively, and as often as possible, literally. Whether it’s my view of life that has me be a filmmaker or vice versa, I’m not sure, but it’s what I got.
As the title of these recurring articles suggests, I do have these observations and they are from the edge…edge of my own mind anyway…sort of like Donald Trump’s but without the garbage.
As I lounge here in the Heinz Field press box, I am reminded of an experience, a small instance from last season, in which I could only step back (figuratively) and truly observe the moment. Why I’m even writing about it, I’m not quite sure. I suppose some things just need to be shared.
Half-time at a Steelers game is quite limited in minutes for the working press, so every 60 seconds count. Media types run to the lounge to get in a long line for the big fat weenies the Rooneys serve up. Those tube steaks don’t do much for me so I opt to go to the head first and grab a soft pretzel later. This proves to be an accessible and tranquil time in the John.
Now on this particular trip to the urinal (what a strange destination) I wedged myself in between two tall, blue suit types, that were already standing at their respective porcelain stations. The fact that they were separated by an empty space is an indication of men wanting space from and giving space to each other in such places.
Now if you’re not of the male gender, you may not know what goes on in such an environment. It’s quite odd really . . . several men standing in a row, facing the 4×4 inch ceramic tiles on the wall, with nothing to look at. We mostly look down at ourselves, doing what we do, which is usually (and should be) urinating.
Like in a police line-up–only backwards–there we are, looking down at our business. In these moments, I often wonder why I’m required to look down. I know what to do by now, even with my eyes closed. But everyone is doing it. There seems to be the need to visually validate completion.
Concerning my neighbors, it feels as though there is this etiquette that we look down and never at each other. There is nowhere else to gaze so now I concentrate ahead at the tiles, three inches from my face, as this somehow seems more suitable.
It’s a peculiar thing rubbing elbows (figuratively) with strangers at the urinal. In fact, if you’re rubbing elbows (literally), which is easy to do given the space provided…that might be considered intimate behavior.
So now on this occasion, I’m doing my thing, now looking at the tiles before me and I hear a familiar voice from the very tall man to my left. I don’t know what he said but I look to see the voice that I recognize so well and it is CBS play-by-play announcer, Jim Nantz. So that means that the guy on my right may very well be CBS color analyst, Phil Simms. And indeed it is.
So here I am, whizzing between the top two sportscasters in America (by CBS’ standards anyway).
These two have done four Super Bowls together. They are the NFL’s preeminent broadcast leaders (by CBS’ standards anyway).
As someone who has an affinity for the sports broadcast business, I may want to engage in shop talk or sports talk, or even ask them for an autograph. But I’m not sure this is an appropriate moment. Asking for a John Hancock in the John could be (figuratively and literally) a bit messy.
I’ve never been an autograph seeker, although Richard Petty did sign my chest once in the pit of a car race in which I was shooting a close-up of his scraggly face. You should see the video (…and the shirt is for sale).
Secondly, as a media type, asking for autographs is not kosher. After all, we are media colleagues, not groupies. Many of my associates desire autographs of the players we cover, interview and interact with, but an unwritten law precludes this in the realm of doing our job. In fact, one such comrade got fired from the Penguin’s press box for such a deed, asking a player in the locker room to sign his whatever.
Players don’t need autograph requests from media types. They get enough from fans, marketing departments, personal appearances, front office personnel, restaurant patrons, and so on. The locker room should be a safe haven for them. . .even though they are naked in front of strangers with video cameras.
There should be sanctity for broadcasters in the press box as well even though they don’t have to be naked. . .Thank God.
I couldn’t care less about having the signatures of Jim Nantz and Phil Simms, but I did feel a certain privilege in sharing a tinkle with them. I mean, how often does one get to do this? Not so much. The moment did not escape me.
As I came close to the conclusion of my business, I looked both left and right and said hi to both Jim and Phil, as if we had done this many times before.
To them I wanted to say how enchanted I was to have had this time together, no matter how small (no pun) the moment…the three of us together like this, with some small thing (no pun) in common.
Someday when I’m watching football or some sports awards show with my grandkids, and these two are retiring into the broadcast hall of fame, I can turn to the young ones and say…”see these guys? I peed with them once.”
Oh, the moments life offers up.
Lee Kann is a media producer and a writer. Contact: shooting16bl@gmail.com
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