To some it's just a job...

The glass doors reflected the afternoon clouds, a hint of the setting sun painting the glass with a tint of purple and gold. How appropriate I thought as I walked into the foyer. The relative quiet of the outside instantly transformed into a symphony of noises and odors which made my heart leap. I smile at the lady sitting at the door taking tickets as I take a deep breath of the potluck of smells that are assualting my sinuses. Popcorn being popped, pretzels warming under a heat lamp, hot dogs being readied for the crowd to come, mixed with the slightly dusty, slighty musty and certainly pungent smell of sweat transports me back to at time when I was one of those who created part of the mixture.

A couple more steps and another doorway becomes a portal to another world. The yellowish light of the overhead flourescent lighting give a golden glow to the hardwood floor. The squeek of rubber on varish, the hard breathing of athletes in action, game faces on both coaches and players. Tonight there will be a game. The rhythm of the leather basketball pounding out a beat, the pop of a crisp pass hitting a player in stride as he launches himself toward the hoop is a sight that brings joy to soul.

This is just the pregame warmup, young men still in the warmups getting loose for real action to begin. Such a pure sense of competition. All the game plans and work done in practice is about to be put to the test against a group of invaders who think they can come into our house and leave with a win. Fans, students, parents, grandparents, friends, brothers and sisters start filing in to get the best available seat to view the contest about to unfold. The smile on my face is stuck there. This is one of my favorite places to in the world to be. My seat is saved for me and it's the best seat in the house, a blessing for certain.

Unburdening my load on the table at half court, I begin to assemble the tools which will help be to become a part of the whole tapestry. Cables, cords and an assortment of connections allow me the ability to be more than just a cheering fan, but transform me into a conduit of public information. Tonight, as every night, it will be about the game and the young men striving to elevate their abilities, to overcome a foe and represent their school. When the clock hits 0:00 it will be about the score, someone will be victorious and others will be left wanting. Until that time, it is all about effort, competition, hustle, sweat and heart. The athletes on a high school floor are not being paid, they are not getting the adoration of the media, many may not even see any gametime tonight, but without exception they are all there because they love the game. In that I share a bond with each and every player, coach and die hard fan, I too am here because I love the game.

God has taken me on a crazy path of twists and turns, switchbacks and detours. Through it all , I have gained a sense of confidence to speak in public, to have my words conveyed and amplified so that many can hear my message. Thankfully, my message is to help decipher the action on the floor. The athletes do all the work, the referees and coaches strive to maintain order and discpline, I am just a cog in the machine, one color on the pallet creating the big picture. My goal is to bring an added level of entertainment to the event, to portray the action on the floor in a positive way, to lift up the athletes and make the evening a little more enjoyable for those in attendance.

I am the public address announcer. I get to sit at the scorers table, with the official score book, the scoreboard operator and shot clock operator, each of whom are actual officials of the game. My position in contrast is the only "unofficial" position at the table. The onus on me is to relate the game to the crowd, to let everyone know who scored, who fouled, who called time out and who is on the floor. If the whole evening were a stew, I would be just a single spice added to the mix. The stew would be fine without me and the meal would be certainly nutritious and filling, my intention each night is to make that stew just taste a little better. If I do my job well I can bring a smile to those who are in attendance and win or lose make everyone feel positive about the outcome.

It is easy for anyone to get on the microphone and talk. It can be intimidating, but it's not hard to do. The trick is finding the right words to say. Once words are spoken you can't get them back, kinda like trying to put toothpaste back into the tube. After getting comfortable with your words being broadcast, finding the proper flow and timing to interject into the game is a key component. Having a knowledge of the game on the floor and a feel for the natural rhythm of the game are additional qualities that add to ones confidence level. The final piece of the puzzle and maybe the hardest element to bring to the table is personality. As I stated, it is easy to get on the mic and talk, its more difficult to do it well and a whole other dimension to bring a level of professionalism to the microphone that raises the evening. To some it is just a job. I want to change the night from just another pot of stew to something at leaves you wondering what changed in the recipe that made it so good tonight. The bottom line is that the game is about the young men and the celebration of competition, creating memories for a lifetime.

I thank God for the abilities and gifts He has bestowed and blessed upon me. To be able to be part of so many fantastic games and bring a level of passion and enthusiasm to the contests is assuredly a gift from God. The smile on my face is genuine. Thank you for saving my seat, "I'm Nic Beckman...Play Fair, Play Hard, Have Fun...Let's Play Basketball!"