Announcer back on his grind
BY REMIGIO DEVENTE ON APRIL 16, 2014
The government, the machine, the man behind the curtain. These all represent a similar figure that affects us all in different ways.
Recently, I was approached by a colleague whose name is to remain anonymous in order to preserve his reputation. He is affiliated with one of Rose’s very own sports teams. I will also leave this team anonymous (hint: members of this team can be found wearing the same tacky jackets).
This colleague came to me asking a favor. He asked, nay begged, for me to commentate their game. Out of the kindness of my heart, I dropped my plans for that night and agreed to bring my dialect skills to the table.
Being the organized and prepared Eagle Scout I am, I showed up to the game forty minutes early. I made the trek up the bleachers to the empty press box. My “instructions” were left for me next to the mic to which I would proceed to pour out my heart and soul towards my love of Rampant athletics.
I will skip the portion of the story where I flawlessly perform the pregame festivities, play the warm up music/national anthem, and announce the starting lineups.
Anywho, the game began before I knew it. Excited and confident, I went above and beyond the call of duty to announce the match. Although the instructions said to only announce goals and saves, am I really at fault for verbally applauding my fellow student athletes for their killer plays on the pitch? Should I have been scolded, almost leaving me in tears, for announcing a simple tackle?
And while we are on the subject, how was I supposed to know it is a mortal sin to do a ten-second countdown before halftime of a lacrosse game? Then, I mix up the score one time, and god knows, I am spawn of all things bad.
After what I thought was a stellar performance, the injustice began. I received an influx of hate mail. I was anonymously sent the link of a website consisting of nasty audio edited clips of my voice. The player whom originally begged for my services sent me an AIM message asking for my letter of resignation. It was blackmail at its finest.
Therapist after therapist told me to just quietly step down. I could have easily taken the easy way out. But did I? Is argyle a cool pattern on sports uniforms? No.
Getting fired from announcing this team didn’t sink my dreams of expressing my feelings through the mic. It did the exact opposite. A burning fire to fight back has aflamed in my heart. I’ve sent out applications to sporting events requiring commentators from intramural softball to recreation tee-ball.
Moral of the story is, never let anything come in between you and achieving your dreams.