Man-Rule: Don’t Take a Job You’re Not Qualified to Do

While watching the unbelievable ending of the Monday Night Football game between the Seattle Seahawks and the Green Bay Packers last night, I’m sure you and I had the same question running through our minds: Are the Seahawks cheerleaders really called the “Sea Gals”?

I’m happy to announce that yes, indeed, that’s the name of the cheerleading squad for the Seahawks, a name that is surpassed only by that of the cheerleading squad for the Cincinnati Bengals, who are called the “Ben-Gals.” The amount of creativity displayed here is staggering, to say the least.

In addition to wondering about the name of the Seattle cheerleading squad, many people are wondering if the Sea-Gals themselves somehow suited up as referees for the final few minutes of the game, because otherwise the calls that were made, ESPECIALLY the one that ended the game, make no sense whatsoever. In case you missed it, the Seahawks threw a desperation pass into the end zone on the final play, a pass that was caught by Packers defensive back M.D. Jennings. It might also have been caught by a Seattle Sea-Gal, any one of the 60,000-plus fans in attendance, Green Bay Packers coach Mike McCarthy, and possibly Abraham Lincoln, who has been dead for some time now. One person who definitely did NOT catch the ball was Seattle wide receiver Golden Tate, AKA The South’s Finest Potato Chip. Naturally, because replacement referees were in charge of the game, Tate was the one who was credited with the catch, which he somehow made through Jennings’ body, while Jennings cradled the ball to his chest.

And while it’s easy to blame the refs for this travesty of justice, I can’t find it in my heart to do so, because I, too, once had a job I was woefully unqualified for.

As you may remember, I was an outstanding pitcher in LittleLeague when I was growing up. When I turned 16, the powers-that-be who ruled the baseball world in Childersburg, Alabama, asked me to be the field announcer for the games. The fact that I had no announcing experience whatsoever didn’t factor into their thinking, which turned out to be a bad thing.

Now, being the field announcer was a pretty sweet gig. You got a free hamburger OR hotdog from the concession stand, with – get this – AS MANY CONDIMENTS AS YOU WANTED. You could create a mound of mayonnaise four inches high on a burger, if you wanted. Plus, you got as much free soda to drink as you could stand. All this, AND they paid you five dollars for every game. Who could turn that down?

Not me, which is why I took the job. Problems surfaced almost immediately, though, because for some reason I performed the role as though I was a radio announcer, not a field announcer.

In case you’re unclear on the difference between the two, let me explain. A radio announcer describes the game to a listening audience, typically consisting of people who aren’t at the ballpark and thus can’t see the game. As a result, he has to describe the action, provide updates on the status of the game on a regular basis, give background information on the players, and in general make the audience feel connected to the game.

A field announcer has to announce the batters’ names and (in Childersburg, anyway) maintain the information on the scoreboard – how many strikes, how many balls, how many outs, the score and the inning. That’s it. Providing commentary on the game itself isn’t necessary, because everyone at the ballpark is watching the game already, and there isn’t a radio broadcast.

So the powers-that-be were expecting something like this:

“Next up for the Cardinals, Golden Tate.”

And what they got from me was something like this:

“Golden Tate strides to the plate, swinging the bat in a hand that will one day use its Jedi mind powers to steal a win from the Green Bay Packers on Monday Night Football. He settles in to the batter’s box, and here’s the pitch … It’s a line drive to center field! Tate is racing around first! He’s going to try for two, and … he’s safe!”

Occasionally I would get so carried away with my play-by-play calling that a coach would have to leave his dugout and gesture helpfully to me up in the announcer’s booth, to let me know that two players actually scored on the play, and according to the rules in use at the time, the scoreboard should be updated to reflect those runs. Also, Golden Tate had actually been thrown out at second. Plus, the batter wasn’t actually Golden Tate, because he wasn’t even born when these baseball games were being played.

So I wasn’t a tremendous success as a field announcer for Childersburg baseball, and because of that I have some sympathy for the refs in last night’s football game. Like me, they’re not qualified to do the job they’re being asked to do, and as a result they make silly mistakes.

I’d be willing to bet they’re the ones that came up with the “Sea-Gals” name in the first place.

(c) 2012 John Puckett