Press Box ejections

[Batman]

I was shooting a basketball tournament a couple of weeks ago and got shooed off the baseline by an official. Apparently, in my state at least, it's supposed to be a point of emphasis this year to keep the baseline clear in the name of safety and the state's supervisor of officials happened to be at the game I was covering. The official was a veteran, so he wasn't obnoxious about it. Just told me to move to the corner and then explained why during a timeout.
Still, that was the first time any of them have ever told me that. And it rang hollow when, a couple of days later, I was practically forced into the corner anyway because there were 15 cheerleaders standing on the baseline with nary a word from the officials.

 

[Liut]

I actually got ejected TO the press box once.
I was at an SEC game and for some reason decided to go down to the field during pregame. While I was down there, I realized I'd never really been at field level to witness everything in the flow of the game. Just the milling around near the end. I didn't even think about the possibility of violating credential terms or mucking up security or game day operations by being on the field.
So I stuck around for about half of the first quarter, taking in the atmosphere, until the school's SID showed up out of nowhere and firmly said, "We have a seat for you in the press box. Please use it."
I did.

While on the field, though, I did witness something that made it worth it. The two schools' cheerleaders were in the same corner of the stadium and engaged in a turf war. One of them dropped their flag and it draped over my head. Once I got out from under it I saw the two squads engaged in a brawl/slap fight that was one of the most hilarious, surreal things I've ever witnessed.

Let me guess. Langston Rogers?

 

[Batman]

Let me guess. Langston Rogers?

Yep. The way he told me to get my ass in the press box was with a tone of, "If you don't, there are a lot of places around Oxford where we can bury a body."

 

[Doc Holliday]

In my short career I never came close to being ejected, although there was that one time at Kentucky when I probably should have been. It was a cool night and maybe, just maybe, I'd had a couple of beers and some greasy food earlier in the day (it was a night game). The heater vent beneath my seat did yeoman's service in redirecting my ... emissions ... to the upper levels of the press box, where there followed much wailing and gnashing of teeth. Had I been discovered I'm sure they'd have bounced my ass down the stairwell.

I was on a plane flight once from New Mexico, leaving Albuquerque with the UConn basketball team. After eating a healthy portion of Hooters wings and baked beans the night before, I was fully loaded for the next morning. I stopped at a Dunkin Donuts and got a donut and some chocolate milk for the airport. I ate them and didn't think anything about it. But about 20-30 minutes later the baked beans went to work. I farted the entire time I made my way through the airport, stinking up every place I went. And they were horrible death-blow farts.

I thought I was pretty much done an hour or so later when we started boarding. But, as I boarded the plane with the Huskies, I felt an urge deep down in my bowels. So I held it as long as I could, then I planted it right in the middle of the section where all the basketball players were taking their seats. As I made my way to my actual seat many rows back, about 90 seconds later, I could hear them all yelling and screaming at each other.

I remember them blaming some poor kid, probably a student trainer. It was one of the most beautiful moments of mistaken identity in flatulent history.

 

[Sports Barf]

I was on a plane flight once from New Mexico, leaving Albuquerque with the UConn basketball team. After eating a healthy portion of Hooters wings and baked beans the night before, I was fully loaded for the next morning. I stopped at a Dunkin Donuts and got a donut and some chocolate milk for the airport. I ate them and didn't think anything about it. But about 20-30 minutes later the baked beans went to work. I farted the entire time I made my way through the airport, stinking up every place I went. And they were horrible death-blow farts.

I thought I was pretty much done an hour or so later when we started boarding. But, as I boarded the plane with the Huskies, I felt an urge deep down in my bowels. So I held it as long as I could, then I planted it right in the middle of the section where all the basketball players were taking their seats. As I made my way to my actual seat many rows back, about 90 seconds later, I could hear them all yelling and screaming at each other.

I remember them blaming some poor white kid, probably a student trainer. It was one of the most beautiful moments of mistaken identity in flatulent history.

That's awesome. This one time I took a **** on Jim Calhoun's mailbox

 

[dixiehack]

I was shooting a basketball tournament a couple of weeks ago and got shooed off the baseline by an official. Apparently, in my state at least, it's supposed to be a point of emphasis this year to keep the baseline clear in the name of safety and the state's supervisor of officials happened to be at the game I was covering. The official was a veteran, so he wasn't obnoxious about it. Just told me to move to the corner and then explained why during a timeout.
Still, that was the first time any of them have ever told me that. And it rang hollow when, a couple of days later, I was practically forced into the corner anyway because there were 15 cheerleaders standing on the baseline with nary a word from the officials.

Used to cover a very rural school with an equally tiny (but immaculate) gym. They painted a dashed line just inside the out of bounds lines to mark where inbounders should stand. Otherwise they would have been throwing it in from the first row.

 

[fossywriter8]

Used to cover a very rural school with an equally tiny (but immaculate) gym. They painted a dashed line just inside the out of bounds lines to mark where inbounders should stand. Otherwise they would have been throwing it in from the first row.

Graduated from a small high school in Iowa. Our gym's boundary lines left just enough room between them and the wall and bleachers for your feet. We had a restraining line on the court for inbound plays. The line was a couple feet inside the boundary line — the 3-point arc actually cut into it — and was only used on inbound plays. It was good for about five turnovers a game, especially inbound plays starting on the sides.

 

[steveu]

Mongo like donuts.

 

[Jake_Taylor]

Graduated from a small high school in Iowa. Our gym's boundary lines left just enough room between them and the wall and bleachers for your feet. We had a restraining line on the court for inbound plays. The line was a couple feet inside the boundary line — the 3-point arc actually cut into it — and was only used on inbound plays. It was good for about five turnovers a game, especially inbound plays starting on the sides.

When I was a kid there were gyms like that all over rural Kansas. Refs always went over the local restraining line "ground rules" with captains before the games.n

 

[HanSenSE]

Covered one school so tiny not only did it have only five rows of bleacher seats on each side and a stage at one end of the court, the scorer's table was on the back row of the bleachers.

 

[Spartan Squad]

Covered one school so tiny not only did it have only five rows of bleacher seats on each side and a stage at one end of the court, the scorer's table was on the back row of the bleachers.

Have one school where there are bleachers with about 4 rows on just one sideline and a stage at one end. The end with the stage also has a rack of lights above the basket inside a cage. The cage can't be more than 20 feet off the ground so if players shoot a 3 a little too high the ball is clanking off that metal.

 

[Southwinds]

Have one school where there are bleachers with about 4 rows on just one sideline and a stage at one end. The end with the stage also has a rack of lights above the basket inside a cage. The cage can't be more than 20 feet off the ground so if players shoot a 3 a little too high the ball is clanking off that metal.

When I played in high school, we used the old high school gymnasium on occasion - and by old, I mean the school closed down in the '50s and was then used as town offices.

The lights were all caged off there, too, both on the walls and the ceiling. One baseline had the stage behind it, where they would wheel in temporary bleachers for spectators (which were always family and friends). The other baseline was directly against the wall, which was fitted with nails and hooks in which staffers hung these large blue removable bags as padding. Oddly, there was plenty of room for a scorer's table and two benches on the one sideline. The other only had enough room to walk down.

The locker room was the creepiest place, too. There were a number of janitorial buckets and mops always stacked up in the showers and the urinals were the old style that went all the way into the floor. Legend had it that it was haunted, and everyone believed it.

I haven't thought of this in so many years. I'm glad this thread meandered this way.

 

[Ace]

When I played in high school, we used the old high school gymnasium on occasion - and by old, I mean the school closed down in the '50s and was then used as town offices.

The lights were all caged off there, too, both on the walls and the ceiling. One baseline had the stage behind it, where they would wheel in temporary bleachers for spectators (which were always family and friends). The other baseline was directly against the wall, which was fitted with nails and hooks in which staffers hung these large blue removable bags as padding. Oddly, there was plenty of room for a scorer's table and two benches on the one sideline. The other only had enough room to walk down.

The locker room was the creepiest place, too. There were a number of janitorial buckets and mops always stacked up in the showers and the urinals were the old style that went all the way into the floor. Legend had it that it was haunted, and everyone believed it.

I haven't thought of this in so many years. I'm glad this thread meandered this way.

Pretty sure most high school locker rooms are haunted by the spirits of kids who suffocated after being shoved in lockers or expired from an excessive wedgie. Plus the smell.

 

[Batman]

One of our bigger local high schools replaced its old wooden bleachers with newer metal and plastic ones a few years ago. Unfortunately, they forgot to measure how far out the new bleachers should come and missed by a couple of feet. So, if you were sitting at the scorer's table your seat was actually on the first row of bleachers. You had people constantly banging into you trying to get to the other side, knees in your back, and just a general comfort level of minus-7 if you had to sit there for a three-hour girls-boys doubleheader.
They finally fixed it this year and keep that front row retracted, but the whole experience encouraged me to learn how to shoot basketball so I'd have an excuse to stand on the baseline and move around instead of dealing with that all night.

 

[Michael_ Gee]

At the old Roberts Center at BC, where they played until the later '80s, the press seats were so close to the endline the photographers had to shoot from the other side. It was a terrible place to work, but a great place to watch a game.

 

[Cosmo]

What do you call a press box without press?

 

[Doc Holliday]

What do you call a press box without press?

This has been coming for years. Nothing will stop it either.

 

[Cosmo]

This has been coming for years. Nothing will stop it either.

100 percent agreed. I would have had no problem with slipping over to the team side if I had the opportunity. The pay is better. There's job security. I don't think I realized how bad it had gotten in newspapers until I got out, honestly.

 

[dixiehack]

What do you call a press box without press?

I’ve never met McLane, but I’ve met a lot of journalists and their type was best summed up last week by Clay Bennett, editorial cartoonist for the Chattanooga Time Free Press, who responded to a survey asking why he chose journalism as a career with the following:

"Because it was the next step up from being an amateur asshole."

I dig it.

 

[Nathan Foutnier]

Once upon a time as young summer intern, I was in the press box covering a minor-league baseball game in the now-defunct Texas-Louisiana League. There was a close play that didn't go the home team's way, and the PA guy played the Bob Uecker quote Major League (Personally, I think we got hosed on that one!) over the stadium speakers. And the home plate umpire drops his mask, turns around, points to the press box and gives the guy the hook.

The same thing happened in another independent league about 10 years ago and they made the guy ump third base the next game as punishment.

I didn't even know that umps could boot stadium workers until then. But the real fun part was after the game, trying to write up my game recap with the ump crew and the team officials having a screaming argument in the tiny press box.

I have one better. The former local junior hockey had a borderline call go against them...The fans were upset, players and coaches were. At the media timeout shortly thereafter, the referees go to the referee's crease to get some water. The press box over hangs the referee's crease and the penalty boxes so I hear the whole exchange. The "off ice league official" manning one of the penalty box's opens the door to see what the officials needed. The referees asks for some water. The off ice personnel goes "You don't deserve any water." Next thing you know the guy with who has a league issued jacket on is getting the boot. #ImisstheQ