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Published Sunday, November 22, 2009 in Sports

Avoiding danger on the sidelines

Sports Column by TOMMY CAMP

tommy@newnan.com

Times-Herald photographer Bob Fraley has reminded me a number of times of the dangers of watching football from the sidelines.

He knows from firsthand experience.

A number of years ago while taking photos at an East Coweta game he was rolled up on the sidelines by several behemoths moving at what was determined to be something akin to the speed of sound and suffered a broken leg as a result.

Thankfully nothing that drastic has ever happened to me...yet.

I credit my perfect record thus far to one dominant, overriding philosophy which takes precedent over all others: At the first hint of action heading my way I run, as fast as I can, in the opposite direction.

I don't care how cowardly it looks. I don't care if those about me see fit to heap ridicule upon by balding head, I bolt. I fly. I make haste awayward.

It's stood me in good stead lo these many years.

My desire to record the results of any given play, my wish to be as accurate as possible and my goal to get it right, all play second fiddle to self preservation.

Look at it this way. If you think your right to know what Bronko Slambuskie did on third and long from his own 17 in a 52-3 game is worth my spending six weeks in a cast, you are sadly and pathetically ill-informed.

Not that I haven't had some close calls.

There was that time in Griffin while momentarily being distracted by the infamous bear on the scoreboard who was emitting smoke from various orifices of his fury body, that I was nearly trampled by several hulks wearing hideous yellow jerseys.

I was much younger in those days and upon recognizing the oncoming gaggle of gargantuanism for what it was and quickly surmising the potential tragedy that would occur if I held my ground, I deftly stepped aside and suffered only wind damage to may hairdo as the entangled conglomerate of bodies whirled by to wreak its destruction on the sideline fence nearby.

Then there was that time in Sanford Stadium when in the final minute of a Tech-Georgia game a punt returner dressed in white and gold and intent on escaping the clutches of those attired in red and black, stepped unexpectedly out of bounds at my feet much before I had anticipated any such movement on his part.

My catquick reflexes would have normally served me well on that unique occasion, but as chance would have it, I was preoccupied with the intricacies of a particularly gyratious dance routine by a group of cheerleaders nearby and I failed to take notice of the impending collision.

Only the actions of a close friend standing behind me who grabbed me by the very hairs of my head and jerked me to safety, allowed me to escape what could have been a disaster of Biblical proportions.

And then there was that time at Tara Stadium when only moments after the second quarter had ended and I was standing along the sidelines adding up my stats that a trio of drum majors went into their pre-show histrionics which included the twirling of great metal poles at rates which would have done Hank Aaron's bat speed proud, in circles above, around, behind, beside and in front of their bejeweled uniforms oblivious to any human forms nearby.

Let's just say that the blood curdling "Look out!" that I heard from what I can only describe as an angel from on-high forced me to look up just in the nick of time to avert decapitation from one twirler, stabbing by another and amputation from the third.

But such are the dangers of watching from the sidelines.

The rewards are great, but the perils are many and only the quick, the smart and the unbelievably lucky live to tell the tales.