Sometimes a quick chuckle can make this job worth it

So I, like many on this forum have recently been bogged down by the weight of increased demands/low pay, e.t.c.

Then i get to a boys basketball game I'm shooting for some high school kid's 1000th point tonight.

I want some generic shots of him just in case the action shot of him netting his milestone sucks and to get better acquainted with the lighting of the gym. I take some of him being announced in the starting lineup, celebrating with teammates, all the pregame stuff.

Fast forward to the national anthem. Halfway through I decide i want a photo of him with his hand on his chest looking up at the flag, cool shot. Only problem? Apparently the battery of the camera isn't locked all the way in. I tilt the camera to set my shot up and boom, battery falls out lands on the floor right in the middle of the cheesy radio-taped anthem when everyone's quiet.

It makes a semi loud noise, I seem like a goober and get some laughs.

Then, when i should be embarrased, I actually smile. It's the little moments like this where I realize that sometimes I can't take this job too seriously and those moments are the ones where I can laugh at myself, smile and thank goodness I'm in a field where I actually enjoy the work I do and feel good about my career choices.

Just thought I'd share and see if you guys have had any of these quick chuckle moments where you realize that, hey, maybe it's not the best, but this field can still be a fun place to be.

 

At least you didn't fart.

 

I saw a photographer run across a court during introductions when the players were meeting at halfcourt and shaking hands before tipoff. The kid stopped, looked kinda weird at the dude and let him run on by, then went on to halfcourt to shake his opponent's hands.

Nobody stopped and laughed at the doofus who made a fool out of himself because he didn't realize the timing, situation or response to his actions. We still talk about what a dumbass that guy was.

 

Not to threadjack, but I once had a parent complain to me that I didn't arrive on time at the game to take a picture of her son, who was singing the national anthem. Even after I told her I had a village board meeting that I had to cover prior to the game, she still wasn't happy.

Of course, what I really wanted to tell her was that no one other than herself would give a flying f-ck about seeing her son's picture in the paper. But I took the diplomatic approach.

 

Just tell her that her son used more keys in a minute-and-a-half than the janitor used all day.

 

I love that line! I might steal it...

 

Be my guest.

 

I covered a team that had three brothers on it, a senior, a junior and a really good freshman. They were collectively known as "the X brothers" on the team, in the school and in my articles.

At the last event of the season, I interviewed the senior and asked him if he would miss being an "X brother." As soon as I asked, I realized how stupid the question was.

"Well, I'll always be an X brother, I just won't be on the team next year," he said, and we had a good laugh about it.

 

But he worked *so* hard.

 

I covered a soccer team a couple years ago that featured two brothers -- one a senior, the other a sophomore, both stars. The senior graduates, leaving his brother there. During one of the first couple games, I call the younger kid by his brother's name. After he corrected me, I said something like, "Oh, I bet that happens all the time, huh?" He said, "Unfortunately. ..."

I hate being called my brother's name, so I felt his pain; it went along great with my embarrassment.

 

I'm already dreading this coming softball season because the school that we focus our coverage on has a pair of identical twins. They are both stars on the team so I'm sure I'll be talking to them plenty. Hopefully every time I need to interview them they'll have their numbered jerseys on. At practice? There's no way I won't misidentify one of them.

 

I was on the field after a high school football game, working may way to the coach. It was crowded, so I had my arms close to my body and my hands up to make my way through the crowd. Then a girl turned around and my hand, unintentionally, met her boob. Fortunately, my hand was open, so there was no squeeze involved. Still, it was probably more action than I got from my wife that night. She looked at me, I looked at her, and we both went on our way.