Student
Professor Bloomfield
English 101CD: 2:00
24 September 2002
Everyone goes through many rites of passage in
their lives, but there are a few that will indelibly place their mark on an
individual. These rites of passage mold and shape us into the people we
will one day become.
The rite of passage that had the greatest influence on my life began in 1997
when the football coach at my school asked me to film the games for the
upcoming year. I was in the eighth grade and was a sports enthusiast.
Two of my friends were doing the statistics for the team already, so I decided
to accept his offer. Little did I know that I would film fifty-three more
games over the next five years and go from being someone who didn't say
that much outside of my circle of friends to someone who could laugh, joke, and
communicate with almost anyone.
The first game I was to tape was the annual
scrimmage the week before the season officially began. I had never filmed
a game or even used a video camera, but there I was on that warm August
evening, standing on the
slanted roof outside our tiny press box, clutching my bulky, unwieldy camera
and waiting for the scrimmage to begin. As the scrimmage went on, I
continued
to film. Afterwards, I clambered through the press box window and down
the ladder, lugging my camera case, extension cord, and my first tape as video
technician for Benedict football.
The following Friday was the first game of the
year, on the road against
feet and was supported by four large poles, one at each corner. The
entire structure swayed if anyone leaned against the wall or pushed against the
floor. In addition, the box itself was only accessible by an aluminum
stepladder leaned up against the press box, not an ideal place to film.
However, I made it through that game, and the next, and the next, struggling to
capture the action through my camera lens in spite of all sorts of
difficulties. I was climbing up old windmill ladders, stringing extension
cords out of school windows, leaning out over railings to see, standing in the
midst of hostile crowds, and becoming a part of the team. This allowed
me to learn how to communicate with other people who didn't have the same
interests or ideas as I did. I went from someone who would barely speak
to my own team to someone who could walk up to one of the players, the other
cameraman, or almost anyone and have a conversation.
As the years went by, I had more great
experiences filming some classic games. Games like last-second victories
over hated rivals McCool Junction, Monroe, and Hampton, lopsided routs over
and Giltner, and tragic defeats at the hands of Wolbach,
bulbs and dysfunctional scoreboards, and games where the wind was blowing
freezing rain into my face at thirty miles an hour. As great as these games
were, they still provided me with some slight technical problems.
Sometimes, my hands would go completely numb on those freezing cold fall nights
because the pause/record button was too small for
me to push while wearing gloves. However, my hands would usually warm up
after about an hour or so of holding them in front of the bus heater on the
ride home. Sometimes, the camera would fail to function correctly.
The
lenswould fog over for no apparent reason, blurring
the action on the tape.
One time, the camera wouldn't stay closed, and I had
to wrap it in athletic tape to keep it working. When I first began
filming, I was a shy, quiet, insecure youngster who didn't talk much outside my
circle of
friends. Becoming someone who was accepted as a member of the group helped me
to become more outgoing, to trade barbs and insults good-naturedly, and to
develop better communication skills that will allow me to succeed in the
future. After the final game, a 22-6 victory over Giltner,
I just stood out on the roof for a few minutes and thought about what the past
five autumns had taught me, not just about how to film a football game, but
about communication, acceptance, and life.