Isaac Katz lowers his burly frame onto the seat behind the scoreboard controller at the Hopkins men's basketball game against Franklin & Marshall. He rolls up the sleeves of his Hopkins baseball sweatshirt to the midpoint of his forearms and looks around at the teams engaging in their pre-game shoot-arounds.
"Why do you have to be here so early?" I ask Katz, a junior engineering major.
"Well," he begins, stretching out in his seat, "If I'd known I was going to be on scoreboard today, I might have come a little later. Like, if I was doing scorebook, it takes a while to put in all the names and numbers."
Katz is one of the handful of students who do the less glamorous, yet essential duties at the Hopkins sports events.
While today he is in charge of the scoreboard, it could have easily been the scorebook. The time after that, he could be filming the game. Or it might not be basketball at all, as he could be assigned to the next women's volleyball game.
His eyes light up when I ask him what he does at the volleyball games. "I'm an awesome line judge," he says with a smile. "I got recommended for the conference tournament."
Katz's co-workers are almost exclusively Hopkins athletes from other sports and, then, predominantly baseball players. Since baseball is a spring sport, the staff works mostly during the fall and winter. Earlier this year, their duties included working the sidelines for field hockey, soccer and football games. This involves "running balls" for all of them and moving the sideline markers for football.
Ultimately, under the authority of Associate Director of Athletics Mike Renwick, a trio of baseball veterans schedules and directs the crew: seniors Rob Sanzillo and Nick Venezia, and junior Todd Emr.
"They do a great job," says Katz of his higher-ups. "It's a lot of fun working with them."
The job is ideal for athletes because of the appropriate time commitment. Even during the off-season, athletes are constantly working out and practicing. Teamed with the multitudes of schoolwork, a job that only requires a couple game's-worth of hours per week is a perfect fit.
"Especially this time of year, when regular practices start up again," says Katz. "I really only would want to work for a few hours each week."
The staff is big enough and the games are few enough that coverage is never a problem.
"I like being able to see the games too," Katz adds. "And I like being able to help them out."
But this cooperation between teams is not a one-way street.
"A few guys from the football games come do sound at our games," says Katz, referring to the announcement and subsequent theme music for each hitter. It is evident to hear Katz talk about the support between teams that the student game crews do a lot to build the Hopkins sports community as a whole.
"I think the teams like it," Katz says. "It's reassuring to always have friends on the sidelines."
Katz also discusses a proposition, somewhere in the works, by the Student Athlete Advisory Committee to let each varsity team choose a game for which at least half of each other team must attend.
"It probably won't happen," he adds, "but it's a cool idea."
Regardless, the mutually beneficial relationship that has developed on game days shows no signs of dwindling. Game staff has become one of the most desirable jobs for athletes and, because of the tradition, especially for baseball players.
"So, can I sit here and see how you do your thing?" I ask, pointing to the scoreboard controller.
He looks at me and furrows his brow. "There's not much to watch. All you need to see is up there." He gestures towards the scoreboard on the wall.
"So, can I work that thing during the game?" I ask him, pointing to the controls.
He looks at me and glances around, hoping that none of his bosses heard that. "No," he says bluntly. "There are a lot of buttons here. In fact, you probably shouldn't sit near me during the game. It's hard enough without any distractions."
"So I should just go sit in the stands and try and watch you from there?" I ask.
"There's not much to watch me do. You know how these things work."
Katz is right on both counts. The duties of a scoreboard operator are, after all, fairly straightforward. Even if the results of his labor will be the second most watched thing at the game, barring a surprisingly frisky day from the cheerleaders.
But he also knows that I know a thing or two about scoreboards. While my scoreboard resume may not list varsity basketball, I do have an abundance of Hopkins Intramural Basketball scoreboard experience, as I have worked as a higher-up in the Hopkins Intramural Department for three years.
My inner competitiveness has kicked in. In my mind, I'm now locked in a duel with Isaac about whose job is better.
His position is, certainly, more glamorous and has a few more buttons (ours don't really work too well with the possession arrow and foul shot bonus) but, judging by the collection of white haired men that are getting ready to occupy the chairs next to him, I doubt that the conversation with his score table co-workers is as interesting as mine.
"Like I said," Katz reiterates. "I'm really just paying attention to the game."
I leave the scorer's table and take my seat in the stands.
The stands slowly fill up as the Hopkins and Franklin and Marshall men's basketball teams go through their pre-game shoot arounds
Franklin & Marshall hits a three just six seconds into the game. I see their score quickly blip from a zero up to three. "Way to go Isaac!" I yell from the stands. He doesn't turn around and his eyes remain fixed on the game.
"How many hours do you get a week?" I ask him, after the game.
"Only a game or two," he says. "But that's all I can fit in. Most of the guys who work here are athletes, so it's tough to fit in more than that."
Hopkins sports game crew, as I've now termed Katz's job, extends much longer than the basketball season: in the fall he runs balls for the soccer teams and moves markers for the footballers; winter brings hoops and volleyball and, since many of the student employees are baseball players, spring is their turn to get on the field.
"Volleyball is the most pressure," he says.
I nod but mentally scoff as refereeing games is basically what I do every night. "I thrive under pressure," I tell him.
"Yeah," he says, "but at your job if you mess up you don't get fired."
A good point, but I chalk one up for myself in the category of job security.
