There are some things in life we are told you have to do. How often do you see a '100 things to do / books to read / films to see before you die' lists in magazines telling you that if you don't like certain things you are a cretin. Well, as a cretin who normally falls short by disliking about 90% of most top 100 lists I went to Red Square with an open mind but keeping my expectations moderate. I remember a Blue Peter clip on one of the old summer expeditions where the presenter was led blindfolded into Red Square and was blown away by the beauty of St Basil's cathedral when he first saw it. Just another televisual trick I thought at the time but, I have to admit, when I first saw the towers of St Basil's with their brightly coloured peaks, I was amazed. The rich reds and greens are unusual but very effective and beautiful whilt the 'Mr Whippy' style domes make it look more like a funfair than a religous building.
The square is surrounded by beautiful architecture and, despite the presence of a large UEFA inflatable exhibition in the centre, makes for a lovely stroll. I didn't get chance to go into any of the buildings but after just half an hour walking round, even my colleague (whom I thought to have even lower cultural values than myself) was impressed. It is a shame we didn't get any more time to wander round the city, just a brief morning before the match, but when in Moscow it would be silly not to visit it's most famous landmark.
From a professional point of view, the worst thing about being in Moscow for a game like this is the time difference. When the game is scheduled to kick-off at 7-45 in Britain,that means a 10-45 start in Russia. Having only been in the city for a couple of days, jet lag was never really an issue but, when you start getting prepared and organised for a show and are ready at 6pm, the 4 hour wait suddenly seems like an eternity. I can't imagine how the players must have felt for the biggest game of their careers. The atmosphere around the stadium, as with most of the city, was relaxed and pleasant, as much as it can be before such a big game. The police are as much of a presence as the supporters, standing out with there over-sized peaked hats and twirling batons, ready to pounce on the slightest indiscretion. Despite all the fears about the final being in Russia, I never saw the slightest sign of trouble, at least not from supporters.
My actual role on a big game of football is straightforward. I start a clock at the first whistle, animate in a scoreline, press a button whenever a team scores a goal and, at set points during play, press another button to animate in trailers for upcoming events or to identify a reporter. I check every possible typing error myself in triplicate, get my colleagues to do likewise and rehearse the format over and over with the director and producer. So why I managed to animate in a huge green chroma-box from the clock during the biggest game of this (or any other) season is a mystery only my subconscious can answer. There are about three key strokes to fly in this particular graphic, one of which has an option of 'including chroma-box' which (and even typing this 36 hours later I don't understand why) I chose yes to. It was a quick sequence of buttons and I did try to anticipate when it was needed but I have no excuse. When the dirty green square hung down across the top left of the screen my heart broke into several million pieces.
There was nothing I could do. It was done. I can lose the offending graphic immediatly but even then second and a half it was on screen is too long. The director, quite rightly, snapped and asked what the hell was going on (with a few more expletives) and I could only apologise. I pressed the wrong button at the wrong time and... explenations mean nothing at that moment. For three hours whilst a very good game of football takes place before (I later found out) over 16 million viewers, mine was the only mistake that anyone on the whole crew made. Not just a little mistake, a huge great green square from the top of the screen. The rest of the game is faultless, every graphic is in at the exact time and is pristine but that will never be remembered.
Afterwards I apologised to the producer and executive producer and anyone else I can think of and they were very understanding in a 'things happen' type way, although I know deep down they are angry. I didn't see the director until the following morning (to put into context, no-one got back to the hotel until 3am and this was at 8-30am) and I just knew he would be a harder nut to apologise to. He is angry at me and he didn't hide it. All I could do was apologise, try to explain why something so simple went so wrong and how I felt worse than he could imagine. It isn't just this moment that I am apologising for. It is for the next God knows how many OBs I will work on with him in the future, every time, no matter how good I am or how excellent my work, he will always remember the huge error I made on his biggest ever OB. In ten years time, if I make another mistake, it is will always come back to that error in Moscow and I will always have it on my mind.
So, my three day trip wound up with me in a very negative mood. I had a couple of beers in the hotel bar before going to sleep and, with such a late night and early start the trip home passed by with most of the crew in deep slumbers on the plane. I have a weekend off which will involve me reassembling a shed in the garden (real work for once) which will probably collapse or something. The one error I made is going to hang over me for a while now, I have a summer of similar football shows to do with the same crew so plenty of chance to avoid mistakes but a lot of time to be reminded of it, maybe not directly but it will always be there in my head.
Friday, May 23, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Arrival
Well, here I am in Russia. After negotiating Heathrow’s Terminal 5, carrying as hand-luggage a small peli-case with vital equipment in it (if that got lost in transit...) and with a just a small delay, we had a nice smooth trip to Moscow. After the pristine, virginal feel of Terminal 5, the local airport is a little less salubrious. Slow carousels trundle our luggage round. Un-tiled floors cause the cases to rattle as we wheel them around. Taxi drivers gather around the arrivals area, trying to pick up as many stupid English travellers as possible who may pay the mark-up on the regular price. Fortunately, we have UEFA transport ferry us to the hotel.
It is about a 45 minute drive to the hotel, dominated by tall, grey buildings reaching up to the sky. There are signs of more expensive properties as we drive but the route along the motorways is repeatedly that of high-rise accommodation. We pass the Luzhniki Stadium, a large dome like structure reminiscent of the Albert Hall standing out amongst the rest of the architecture of the city. That is where I will be spending the majority of my stay, sadly like all of these occasions stuffed into a truck in the car-park with the biggest event of the season tantalisingly close.
When we reach the city centre, the scene becomes brighter, more neon advertisements and brightly lit bridges across the river. Our hotel, right next to the river and about half an hour’s walk from Red Square, is smart, neat and comfortable. Once checked in our thought’s immediately turn to refreshment. The hotel bar serves beers in pint glasses with “John Smith’s” or “Newcastle Brown” logos on them suggesting a job-lot was purchased specifically for the English influx although the brands on the glass don’t necessarily relate to the contents within. Sadly the glasses aren’t quite filled, rather in the continental style with a larger head and space at the top, which at about £6 a glass is disappointing. There is a rumour of a nearby “Blue Shack” which serves beers at £1 a go but this may just be an urban myth. Our group instead heads off towards the city in search of food.
As we walk, there are a few Manchester United fans kicking an old football around but otherwise England’s representation is fairly quiet. We find a nice little cafe in a pedestrianised area which rustles us up some tasty chicken kebabs which was just what I needed. With a couple of beers on top, a tenner a head seems a very reasonable deal. With it being a fairly quiet Monday night in Moscow, I get the feeling we could have settled in for a friendly ‘lock-in’ until the United supporters sit down and start singing. Although they are boisterous and rowdy, they are causing absolutely no trouble and, apart from the noise, are fairly inoffensive. The staff however, conscious of the attention the singing causes and not wanting any hassle, stop serving drinks and turn the lights off. Always the few spoiling it for the majority...
So my first night in Moscow came to a close. A couple of my friends ended up tagging along with some locals who claimed to ‘know a bar’ somewhere for late drinks. I declined the offer to join them (I can’t do late nights like I used to) and was in bed by about 2am but it is three hours ahead of BST so not as late as it sounds. I am just finishing the rig at the stadium on a hot, sticky afternoon but feeling much better than those carrying minor hangovers. Hopefully I will manage to have a wander down to Red Square in the morning before the game for the obligatory photos and the chance to say I have been there. Tonight, I suspect the city will be a lot busier with fans from both sides hitting the streets. I hate to admit it and I hope I am wrong but it is probably best to have a night staying closer to the hotel.
It is about a 45 minute drive to the hotel, dominated by tall, grey buildings reaching up to the sky. There are signs of more expensive properties as we drive but the route along the motorways is repeatedly that of high-rise accommodation. We pass the Luzhniki Stadium, a large dome like structure reminiscent of the Albert Hall standing out amongst the rest of the architecture of the city. That is where I will be spending the majority of my stay, sadly like all of these occasions stuffed into a truck in the car-park with the biggest event of the season tantalisingly close.
When we reach the city centre, the scene becomes brighter, more neon advertisements and brightly lit bridges across the river. Our hotel, right next to the river and about half an hour’s walk from Red Square, is smart, neat and comfortable. Once checked in our thought’s immediately turn to refreshment. The hotel bar serves beers in pint glasses with “John Smith’s” or “Newcastle Brown” logos on them suggesting a job-lot was purchased specifically for the English influx although the brands on the glass don’t necessarily relate to the contents within. Sadly the glasses aren’t quite filled, rather in the continental style with a larger head and space at the top, which at about £6 a glass is disappointing. There is a rumour of a nearby “Blue Shack” which serves beers at £1 a go but this may just be an urban myth. Our group instead heads off towards the city in search of food.
As we walk, there are a few Manchester United fans kicking an old football around but otherwise England’s representation is fairly quiet. We find a nice little cafe in a pedestrianised area which rustles us up some tasty chicken kebabs which was just what I needed. With a couple of beers on top, a tenner a head seems a very reasonable deal. With it being a fairly quiet Monday night in Moscow, I get the feeling we could have settled in for a friendly ‘lock-in’ until the United supporters sit down and start singing. Although they are boisterous and rowdy, they are causing absolutely no trouble and, apart from the noise, are fairly inoffensive. The staff however, conscious of the attention the singing causes and not wanting any hassle, stop serving drinks and turn the lights off. Always the few spoiling it for the majority...
So my first night in Moscow came to a close. A couple of my friends ended up tagging along with some locals who claimed to ‘know a bar’ somewhere for late drinks. I declined the offer to join them (I can’t do late nights like I used to) and was in bed by about 2am but it is three hours ahead of BST so not as late as it sounds. I am just finishing the rig at the stadium on a hot, sticky afternoon but feeling much better than those carrying minor hangovers. Hopefully I will manage to have a wander down to Red Square in the morning before the game for the obligatory photos and the chance to say I have been there. Tonight, I suspect the city will be a lot busier with fans from both sides hitting the streets. I hate to admit it and I hope I am wrong but it is probably best to have a night staying closer to the hotel.
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