Friday, September 23, 2011

Nightmare on 95: Day Two - Land of a thousand interludes

Miss the previous post? Go here.

For most, the day started with Carolina vs. Montreal. The action began for me not at the first bout, but as the New Skids' jam coach, the Rev, got ready for battle:

Truly, the broadcast section was a cavern of wonders. Adding to the magic of the picture is that it appears The Rev's change of clothes was kept in a briefcase.  Lady Oshun interviewed Beater Pan-Tease about the way Montreal had been training. I work with Lady Oshun all over North America; it was a pleasure to watch her deep in her craft next to a person who could look over her shoulder instead of right at her boob.

Sort of.
Montreal continued to excel. When it came to Maine vs. Boston, I was in the quality control seat, listening to newcomers Latenight Lyle and Mello Joe call the action. Sitting next to the two of them, writing notes and feedback, I got to see the game. Regardless of brackets, it was wonderful to see these New England teams duking it out on Day Two. Punchy O' Guts and Itsy Bitsy Fighter are very proud of their team. As they should be. Coming to the big dance after a long time being on the sidelines was a kick. Likewise, Boston was able to field new people in this big dance that didn't get play during the Charm City bout. Ginger Kid continues to impress and I hope to see big things from her in the next year. Stay healthy, sucker.

The folks behind the scenes worked their butts off like crazy and were able to tolerate me surprisingly  well.
Speed Bump is on the case. Or ignoring me. Why not both?

Bout after bout, I rushed around the venue to make sure that people were doing all right, that our objectives were being met, and that my hair was still holding up. The last was vital to the other two, as I was also on camera interviewing folk. That part was just gravy, I was just there to help in any way I could so people could focus on what drew us all to the sport...

It was around our interview with Teflon Donna of Philly that I realized that I had forgotten a vital key to survival.
Reverend Al's microphone began to resemble a flame broiled hot dog.
Food would be necessary if I was expected to last the night. Thankfully, Pad Thai arrived for me before Double H and I called London vs. Boston, the last bout of the night. And what a bout it was. The sheer defensive power and track awareness of London was an impressive and surprising sight for the Massacre fans in the crowd and online, but the Massacre wasn't about to take it lying down. Here, the story of the bout unfolded beautifully for anyone with eyes, and Double H and I did our best to give the action justice. The victory was sweet. Sure, my "home team" lost, but this was the playoffs and my real team was bringing the action to everyone watching at home. Thus, huzzah!

Stomach rumbling, we interviewed the winners, said goodnight, and I left with my buds to consume something other than fallen skaters.

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