Other Duties As Assigned: My Day On The Game Clock
Monday, December 27, 2010 | Scott Carter
GAINESVILLE, Fla. – The day was starting to wake up. Or maybe that was just me.
Whatever, I had settled into my chair last Tuesday morning to begin some research for an Outback Bowl story. One minute I was looking up Penn State coach Joe Paterno's career record, the next double-checking what time I had to be at the O'Connell Center.
I'm still not sure how that happened.
The Gator Holiday Classic was scheduled to tip-off in a few hours and Kathy Cafazzo, UF's women's basketball sports information director, was sniffing around the office for a last-minute substitution for the clock operator.
The guy who normally does it couldn't make the rare 2 p.m. start time. One of the interns in the office stood over my desk and strongly hinted I should do it – all 6-foot-5 of him. Kyle Niblet can be convincing when he wants to, so I said why not.
Plus, the pay was great: a Gator Holiday Classic T-shirt. My wife would be thrilled to add another sports-themed T-shirt to our cluttered closet.
At this point in my sports-writing career, you could say I've been around the block. But until taking my seat courtside for the Alabama State vs. Texas A&M-Corpus Christi game, I had never worked the clock.
When I showed up at the O-Dome, I was told to report to a room guarded by security for a pre-game meeting with officials. Wow, this is serious stuff, I thought. Thankfully, I was escorted to the meeting by Skip Foster, UF's former swimming coach who now serves as assistant to athletic director Jeremy Foley.
Skip offered encouragement. Well, sort of.
“As long as you don't make the newspaper or ESPN, you'll be fine,'' Foster said.
Thanks Skip.
The meeting with officials was brief. They assumed I was a seasoned clock operator, and I did nothing to let them know otherwise. Everyone shook hands, and official Sue Blauch's parting words stuck with me: “Have a good game.''
I could feel a couple of beads of sweat start to build on my forehead as the game quickly approached. All I could think about was goofing up on a last-second shot with both coaches shouting at me.
As I sat down in front the mysterious black box at my seat, a sense of calm rushed over me.
How hard could this be? The box had just three buttons: start (green), stop (red) and horn (silver). I noticed the name of the company on the box and a web address. My curiosity prompted me to check out PrecisionTime.com.
The page popped up on my laptop:
“At one time sports all over the world experienced failures in time keeping. The Precision Time Systems now has the solution.''
Based on that claim, my goal was to be part of the solution.
Tip-off was still about 15 minutes away, and Foster informed me that my first task would be to sound the horn at the 12:30 mark to cue the teams to start preparing for the playing of the National Anthem.
No problem. I sat patiently and waited. As the clock hit 12:30, I pressed the silver button for about a second and released my finger.
The horn kept screeching. People looked toward me as if I had two heads. What did I do wrong? I just pushed the silver button. After a couple of seconds, Foster reached over and popped it free. It had gotten stuck.
What a start. Finally, it was time for tip-off. Other than the small mistake of accidently hitting the start button and running off a couple of seconds before the game even started – the clock read 19:58 when the teams walked out for the opening tip – no one had a clue I was a rookie.
A quick reset and the game was on.
Midway into Alabama State's victory, I realized my favorite part of being clock operator was getting to set so close to the visitor's bench.
Alabama State coach Freda Freeman-Jackson and assistant coach Clayton Harris were entertaining. Harris was constantly in players' faces in his animated and stylish way.
When a ref made a call at the other end of the court that went against her team, Freeman-Jackson protested. Once the official informed her that the ball bounced off one of her players hands, Freeman-Jackson shot back, “Tell her to catch it.''
Foster provided comfort by letting me know my role wasn't quite as pressure-packed as I thought.
While I was the “official'' clock operator, essentially, I was only the back-up. The officials wear electronic devices and stop and start the clock on their own during the game. If they run into a glitch, that's when they rely on the clock operator for the official time.
It happened just once in the two games I played clock operator when the officials needed to reset the shot clock.
For the most part, once I grasped all the instances when I needed to push a button – on whistles, substitutions and timeouts – I considered applying for the job full-time.
After a few speed bumps in the first game, I felt like a pro by the time the Gators squared off in the championship game.
Of course, Florida's Kayla Lewis startled me when she tapped the table at my seat, looked me in the eye, and said “sub.'' I assume that was her way of reminding me to sound the horn for her to go into the game.
Remember, it was my first day on the job.
In the end, what I'll remember most are three words I heard over and over from my partner.
“Hit the horn.''
Thanks Skip.
