Big Shot | ✓

21 | hero ball, pt i

College football in the south was way bigger than professional football. There was almost a sense of profoundness to it. In a split second, school pride and historic traditions pulled together and captivated a crowd of almost 100,000 people. No matter what school you went to or what traditions were held, being a part of something that substantial felt like an otherworldly, out of body, almost religious experience. If you believed in that sort of stuff.

I knew this before I'd made the decision to go to Clemson, but seeing it all from afar on television or in the stands was one thing, like something that still had an untouchable level of fictionality to it - it was still just a show. Standing in it, ground level surrounded by dozens of professional media personnel and equipment with levels of security clearances that rivaled the Pentagon, breathed life into something that seemed like just a mythos. The translucent, circular-shaped roof of the stadium was inspired the Pantheon for crying out loud, letting pillars of late afternoon sunlight come pouring down on us.

It all reminded me why I did what I did, and why I loved it.

Just as the football team had pre-game preparations, so did us as the media team. We'd borrowed a few more photographers from other media teams, and we had to station them in various corners of the field, dotted in between ESPN camera crews and reporters from various media outlets.

I had my own video project that I'd been working on that would be up on social media tomorrow, so aside from filming the content for that, I'd officially stepped into my role as Head Bitch In Charge - which meant I did a lot of delegating, for better or for worse. Even though I'd technically been in that role since fall practice started, having to actually do it in-game now made me antsy. But I was ready. I had to be.

I was, however, still in charge of graphics (because if you want that shit done right, do it yourself), so any pictures the other photographers were taking would be uploaded into our cloud, and I would be using them to make graphics for Instagram during the game when there were big plays or a score.

The two teams had to share the field for warmups - each team given 50 yards from midfield to a respective end zone - but sharing the space was practically an open invitation for shenanigans...which started almost immediately. Clemson and Georgia weren't really rivals. They didn't play in the same conference, and they'd rarely faced each other outside of the recent playoff format the last few years. But even though it was considered a neutral site for the game, we were in the state of Georgia - in their house - and they made it known, starting with fucking with Derek.

As the team's starting kicker, he set himself up facing the end zone with a kicking tee and practiced field goals and extra points. Sometimes Johnny would come over and hold the ball, but Derek was in his own little kicking universe for the most part.

Some of the Georgia receivers were further downfield to practice deep catches from their quarterbacks, and they were just close enough to inch away from their lineup to knock Derek's tee over when he wasn't looking.

The first time they did it, it was harmless. The second time they did it, it was annoying. By the third time, they were literally picking the tee up and tossing it in the other direction, laughing and playfully jostling each other.

"Um, are they allowed to do that?" Mara asked, scrunching her face up in disgust. She kept her eyes on Derek as he made an attempt to get into one of the Georgia receiver's faces, but was quickly pulled away by Johnny.

"It's a dick move, but it's not against the rules," I told her. "The game hasn't started, so there's no refs here to throw flags."

"Dick move is right," Mara muttered with a huff.