Monday, November 23, 2009
Turd on a Wire
Crime scenes, shopping malls, courtrooms - as a TV news photog, I been kicked out of 'em all. But a high school football game? That's a new one on me. But as Rick Portier has proven beyond the shadow of a doubt, that's exactly what happened to him. Seems the artist otherwise known as Turdpolisher was surfing the sidelines for a few Friday night highlights when, as only he can put it...
'a simple running back bounce to the outside turned into a bench-clearing slobber-knocker'.
That's Louisianan for 'a scuffle ensued'. When it did, Rick did what any self respecting news shooter would do. He hit the trigger and rolled with the punches.
'Players threw teammates. Zebras pried dueling foes apart. Coaches fought to get control, but when all was said and done, it was the men with pistols on their hips and a dips in their lips that restored order. Crisis averted.'
Or so he thought. Fisticuffs soon turned into deliberations and before the waterboys could sop up all that spilled testosterone, a sentence was handed down.
'Babycam in hand, I floated like a ghost around the sideline conferences recording it all for the sports dudes back at the station. I was three feet from the refs when they ejected one of the team's coaches.'
That humiliation in hand, he followed the refs across the field where the opposing team's coaches immediately 'went batshit'. Undeterred by the ire of a few 'out of shape gym teachers', Portier pressed on, until the local constabulary stepped in and proceeded to frog-march his ass out.
'Everything after that is kind of blurry. There was a lot of cursing and grabbing and pushing and shoving. Somehow, my babycam transferred itself from my right hand to my left before one of the men in blue caught my arm and twisted it behind my back. His buddy grabbed me by the left bicep, and they marched me toward the gates.'
From there the fracas dissipated. The officers gave Rick the option of going to jail or just going away and wisely, he chose the latter. Before he could leave though, an officer told him the referee had officially ejected him - apparently for his curious habit of filming people. It was then our friend began scanning the crowd, hoping Ashton Kutcher would soon bound from the shadows and congratulate him on being Punk'd. When neither he or Rod Serling appeared, Turd shrugged his weary shoulders and headed for the station, where news of the night's stupidity topped the broadcast. In the end, his camera lost a bracket. a Hell's Angel earned his wings and little explanation was given as to just what Rick did exactly to earn such a forced and hasty egress. Truth is, we may never know, for reality sometimes fades when grown men gather underneath the lights to run up and down the field. Giving a journalist the boot for recording the truth is like kicking the mailman's ass 'cause you got bills to pay.
And you wonder why I avoid shooting football...