For work last week I went to the Lakers-Hawks game.  The day before the game, the cameraman told me we would do some “stand-ups” while there and I should come ready.  This meant he would film me talking as if I was going to be on air, for me to practice and be able to watch myself later.  Excited for my first time ever being on camera, I didn’t make the mistake of coming unprepared again.

I spent hours before the game researching both teams, their players, their history, everything I could think of.  I brainstormed all angles I could approach the story from and tried to tease out what was the most interesting.  I then sat down and wrote, rewrote, and re-rewrote an introduction for the game.  After I (thought) I was done writing, I tried to memorize the long paragraph I had written, full of pertinent facts and interesting statistics.  I pretended like I was standing on the court and practiced my script in front of the mirror over and over again, constantly changing up the details.

On the drive over to Staples Center, I was still going; rehearsing my lines over and over, trying not to stumble over my long sentences.  I got to LA half an hour early, so I grabbed some coffee at a nearby Starbucks.  There I continued to practice what I’d written out loud, pacing back and forth, sporadically stopping to cross out a stat or scribble in a new line.  People must have been looking at me like I was crazy, but I was concentrating too hard to care.

When five o’clock rolled around, I headed over to Staples Center to get my press credentials.  I’d become more comfortable with the arena’s layout and was able to navigate the press-only areas somewhat better.  I no longer felt like an idiot asking for directions every twenty feet, press badge limply dangling at my side.  As usual, I met the cameraman and anchor on the floor as a few of the players were warming up on the court in front of us.  I helped set things up for the live shot and relay messages from the producers back at the studio.

After we did the shot, the anchor headed back to the studio and the cameraman and I packed up the equipment.  There was still plenty of the before the game so we sat down on the floor seats and he asked if I had prepared anything for a standup.  I shyly handed over my notepad, turned to a long page covered in illegible scribbles and crossed out lines.  I looked on nervously as he patiently read through the mess I had made of my paper.

After getting through it, he gave me a little feedback.  He explained that I had too many statistics and numbers; people don’t want to hear about those.  He showed me how my paragraph was too long and how I needed to choose certain words to emphasize.  Clearly what I had written was not about to be filmed.

The cameraman then told me we would get a chance to do my standup between the third and fourth quarters and instructed me to prepare something for it.  I figured if I were to prepare something, I better watch the game live, instead of socializing in the press room with it on TV in the background.

Last time I was at Staples Center, I watched the game from way up in the press box.  I had been told that I could sit in any of the unoccupied designated press seats on the floor, but I had been hesitant to walk out in the middle of the game, especially since everyone sitting in those seats were frantically typing, obviously being productive.  I didn’t want to take up a seat to just sit and watch.

This time around I was feeling a little more confident.  Plus, I figured I would take notes to prepare for my standup, so I wouldn’t look so unproductive.  I spotted a vacant seat in the back of the press section, decidedly marched over, and sat down.  I got out my notebook and watched intently as I tried to think of a good story line.  Turns out, sitting in the press section had its perks (besides getting to watch the game right on the floor): after each quarter, stat sheets were handed out.  It was helpful to look over those and see what numbers jumped out at me.  I knew I wasn’t supposed to recite stats, but having them in front of me gave me a better idea of what stories were important.  For example, I saw that the Hawks only led twice in the first half- the most by two points with 30 seconds left.  I also saw that the big three pointer Metta World Peace just hit were his first points of the night.

Armed with advice and detailed information, I tried to write a new script for my standup, this time as a transition between the first and second halves.  Again, I wrote and rewrote, scribbled and crossed out, mumbled and rehearsed.  Unfortunately I had a short time limit; I needed to write my script and be able to recite it in front of the camera by the third quarter.

I simultaneously wrote, rehearsed, and watched the game until it was time to meet the cameraman in the pressroom.  When I got there, I read him what I had.  He looked at me and smiled, “Okay, now can you say it without looking?”

Uh oh.

“I’m not sure,” I scrunched up my nose.  “I hope so.”

He laughed, “Well let’s go find out.”

We walked over to the corner just off the court as the third quarter ended.  He handed me the mic, turned on the camera, and started rolling.  All of a sudden, everything I’d written didn’t feel so smooth anymore.  I looked up and felt like thousands of people were staring down at me as if I was doing this for real.

I wanted to yell, Stop looking!  This is just a practice run!

Regardless, I had no choice.  There is only so much time between quarters and I had to take advantage of it.  I started reciting my script as best as I could, remembering to be animated and emphasize important words.  Every time I stumbled, the cameraman told me to keep going.  Every time I wanted to stop, he made me try the whole thing over again.  We managed to get a few runs in before the fourth quarter started up and we had to get off the court.

As we were walking back to the press room, I tried to wrap my mind around how nerve wracking that turned out to be.  My heart was racing and adrenaline was pumping through my veins.  I couldn’t believe I had just done that!

After the game we did the usual routine: waiting for the players to shower, going into the locker room to get sound, and bringing it out to the truck to send in.  After we had successfully sent our footage to the producers, the cameraman looked at me.

“Okay, let’s see that tape,” he said, hand extended.

Oh, God, I thought.  This is going to be so embarrassing.

He stuck the tape back into the camera so we could see it on the big screen in the truck.  I’m going to be brutally honest with myself here: it was terrible.  My voice was way too high from being nervous.  I kept looking away from the camera and fidgeting.  I stumbled over so many of my words.  I was holding the microphone funny.  Every time I messed up I made a little face and scrunched my nose.  There were a million things I did wrong.

I was quick to criticize myself, cringing as I listed all the problems I saw to the cameraman.  He reassured me that it wasn’t that bad, that I just have a few things I need to work on.  He reminded me to keep my points short and simple and encouraged me to keep practicing.

Driving home, I still couldn’t believe how rattling the experience was.  It is so much harder than it looks!  I kept practicing those same lines over and over to myself, even though there was no one to film me.  I said them aloud, trying to keep my voice even and smooth, as I drove home.  I kept practicing them when I got home, standing in front of the mirror and trying to maintain eye contact with myself.  Trying to work on all the things I knew I’d done wrong.

Despite how disastrous I wound up sounding on camera that night, the experience was well worth it.  I was able to watch myself and pick out the things I needed to improve on.  More importantly, I learned that this actually does take a lot of work.  I had never thought too deeply about that before.  I also felt very fortunate and thankful that the people I work with care enough about my career goals to help me work on them.  Now all I have to do is keep practicing and I’ll get where I need to be!