Inside Sunday

One thing I have wanted to see for years is a more comprehensive look at what goes on during a match--especially an important match--a Sunday semi-final or finals match--from outside the field of play. In the pits. Among the referees. Eavesdropping on the spectators straining at the ropes that keep them off the netting. Up in the booth where stats are collected and the Champions field scorekeeper operates. One thing I discovered first hand in Dallas is that (doh!) everyone sees it differently but that a thread of tension, the drama of the moment, ties everyone together too. And the best way to communicate the game to people isn't by showing them the action on the field--it's by telling them the story of the game. What are the stakes? Who are the teams? What are the players like? And then try to capture the energy that runs like electrical current through everyone involved. It is, mostly, an untold story.
The teams and players are strung tighter than piano wire and deal with the tension in a host of different ways. Oddly when you're in the middle of it, a part of it, you're less aware than you are as an immediate observer. Everyone tries to stay calm. Stay busy. Follow personal rituals. Act on superstitious habit. Time either passes more slowly or it disappears in an instant. It infects the staff and crew too. There's quiet conversation, forced laughter and outbursts of frustration and anxiety. The routines of preparing to play provide order and continuity. The excitement builds as the game start ticks down. Invisible it crackles in the air and pounds in your chest like an amplified heartbeat. It touches the referees too. It is the pinnacle of every event. The culmination of weeks of preparation and competition. The ultimate high or the ultimate low awaits. Regardless of the weather an emotional storm swirls and buffets everyone present. It is the difference between watching the match and experiencing it.