db: The art of controlled chaos

“Cause when that morning sun comes beating down…”

Dateline: The Road Crew

“Art is the triumph over chaos.”
John Cheever

“In the last hour and a half I was able to check off 35 things from my to do list.”

“How many to do’s on the list.”

“300.”

Three hundred “to-do’s”, and yet, Eric Lopez, is smiling.

Eric Lopez is a friend of mine, we worked together but separate long ago at ESPN, most of the time I just call him E-Lo and he doesn’t chase me out of the building for it.

Friendship.

When you come to one of our events stand there for a moment and look around, dig on the setup, checkout the flow, the ease of getting around, the cohesiveness of the view.

A field is just grass.

An arena is just concrete.

Both begin as blank canvases until Eric and his crew get there to once again, set the stage.

To once again, make us all look good.

To once again, put the show in our biz.

“…you’re going to…”

In my heart, I’m crew.

I am much more comfortable backstage, then on stage.

The B.A.S.S. bosses insist I have a picture of my mug next to my column, me, I’d be fine if they just put up a photo of a typewriter.

I hang with crew, not media.

My resume says I’m “just a bartender who learned how to type.”

Eric, and his crew, Ben and Jesse are buddies, are my comfort zone, and while I basically had to drag Eric into doing this story, it took a lot of talking, some sad faces by me, some pretending to listening to him telling me where I can and cannot go, more sad looks…he agreed to sit down and talk.

But, but, as he was off organizing the chaos, before I sat down with Eric, I sat down with Eric’s mom and dad, I have known them for years as well so under a tent at last year’s AOY shindig, we sat and talked, I wrote some, laughed some, was amazed some, but who better to give up my friend…than his parents.

Yeah, I’d do that.

Uh huh. It’s a buddy thing.

“…wake up in your town…”

Pinned over her heart is a button, a handmade button…

…and this is the photo that is in the button.

“It’s Eric.”

Years ago when I saw the button on the chest of the tiny lady standing in front of me I fell immediately in love with her, Liz Lopez…Eric’s mom.

After I heard the story of the button all I did was turn and look at Eric, the look between friends that says, “Uh huh buddy, gotcha.”

Ammo, yep.

Liz and Frank Lopez are first gen Americans, their parents immigrating from Mexico, to San Antonio to Chicago.

That makes Eric, second gen, as am I. The building blocks of this country.

Liz and Frank grew up in Mayor Daley Chicago, grew up in his neighborhood, Bridgeport, then the political base of Chi-town, but also lived in the shadow of Comiskey, and their beloved, White Sox.

Liz: “I think the first time I took him to a ballgame, I think he was 2.”

Eric: “My first memory of the White Sox I was 4, maybe 5, we used to go in early for batting practice.”

Awhile back I said Eric was a Cub fan, said it in print, this now possibly the 112th time I have apologized to him for that remark.

Frank, sitting to my left, listens; eyes move back and forth from wife, to son, there is almost a constant smile.

Dad is an accountant, retired, “big bank experience,” now sits on the board of a local bank, the family has moved from a city neighborhood to the Oak Lawn suburb of town.

Liz: “I have loved the White Sox all my life, was in the fan club, back in the day when you could travel with the teams with a group of fans I flew on their plane to New York, Detroit, Washington and California to watch them play, think that was around 1965 or so.”

But mom, mom also played the game, “Played for St. Francis School when I was 16, played the outfield…”

Eric: “db that’s Chicago 16 inch softball.”

I knew it as Cabbageball, or sometimes call Mush Ball, it’s a game played without gloves or mitts, mainly now exclusive to Chicago, and Portland, Oregon. You know who grew up playing the game in Chicago when you shake their hands, “fingers all messed up from catching the mushy 16 inch round ball, db,” as Liz sits with tiny hands folded in her lap.

Another sign of a Mush Ball champ.

Frank: “It was at an early age that I knew that Eric really enjoyed events, big events like baseball games and other events like that.”

Eric, sitting directly in front of me smiles, then looks past me to make sure everything at the AOY event is going smooth.

“Organizing chaos, db.”

“…but we’ll be…”

Here’s the deal with Chicago guys, just you know, do it, sort of, until you actually know what you’re doing sort of.

Eighteen was when Eric first stepped into “organized chaos” for real. “World Cup 1994, volunteered, my first day on the job, maybe first hour I was told to load a box truck and take it to Soldier Field.”

Pretty much the bones of putting events together, ‘cept: “I had never been in a warehouse, never driven a fork lift, never driven a box truck, never driven on Lakeshore Drive, didn’t know how to back it up, took me FOUR hours to get it to the event.”

They didn’t fire him, asked if he would come back the next day, “which I did, worked it for five days was hooked, they paid me in swag.”

SWAG = free stuff (Stuff We All Get).

Eric had found what he was put on earth to do.

In 1999 he worked the Great Outdoor Games as a fellow ESPN’er, now called “cast member,” then on to The X Games as Director of Event Operations.

Then in 2005, he joined BASS, now called B.A.S.S.

A couple years later, so did I, and we have been great friends ever since.

And like Frank, many times when Eric talks, I just sit and listen, and smile.

“…scheduled to appear…”

Order, frightens me, chaos, calms me.

At home in our living room is a brand new looking recliner that I bought 20 years ago.

My average sit time is about 15 minutes, tops.

I’m guessing Eric’s is less.

We are sitting inside the chaos canvas that is the 2016 Bassmaster Classic Expo.

Forklifts move around us, dozens and dozens of sponsors, workers, volunteers walk by the two chairs we are sitting on, I’m at peace, Eric is smiling, “We’ve got about 150 different companies setting up inside here today, db.”

“Is that a lot?”

“Yep, the Bassmaster Classic is a big deal in the event business, we have a waiting list of 100 other companies who want to get into here.”

Eric’s job title, for those of you who care about that stuff, is Director, Event Operations, “I’ve got about 300 employees, volunteers and crew working here with me.”

That is a stone cold legit direct quote, I wrote it down and later when I looked at it I circled one word…’WITH.”

Not “for,” but “with,” my personal opinion here, “with” is the secret to success.

“The steam blowing the whistle ain’t what’s moving the train.”
Bernard Harbin
B.A.S.S. Assistant Tournament Director Chuck Harbin’s 89-year-old dad.

“…a thousand miles away from here.”

“Eric does a hell of a job, but you know what, when ESPN sold to B.A.S.S. and the new owners gave Eric a chance to show what he’s got, to me, he just came alive, he just blossomed into one of the best. It was great to watch.”

“Who said that, db?”

“KVD.”

And when I told Eric what Kevin Van Dam said about him it was the first time I saw Eric, double clutch, I saw that E-Lo was touched and for the first time since I’ve known him…shy.

“You know, db, you know what it was like at ESPN, huge corporate organization, lots of layers between you and a decision…”

Eric, I know is still thinking of the KVD quote while trying to be polite to his previous employer.

I won’t be…on my desk at ESPN were several plastic molded things that had motivational sayings and quotes encased inside. The plastic was all for independence, forward thinking, whatever the latest “in” business guru wrote in a book.

Trouble was, the organization never lived up to the plastic ideals. It did for some, not for most, 300+ of my good friends who have worked there 20…25…30 years were recently fired because they were good at what they did, they built the Worldwide Leader, and made money doing so. Success was their downfall.

The day I heard about that bloodletting, I melted down all those plastic lies.

“…here, db I can make decisions and if it happens to be the wrong the decision they ask me if at the time I thought when I made the decision it was the right decision, they are okay with that, we fix it, but if the bosses, if Jerry knows that in my heart I made the decision because I thought it was the right thing to do, we just move one, learn from it, but move on…”

Does that work? You tell me.

According to Eric when he was with the Great Outdoor Games he had about 1,000, A THOUSAND people working on it, now 300, mostly volunteers…

“Last time we came to town here we had 106,000 people go through the doors, had a line three hours long to get in…”

Then…

“…I think we will break that this year here.”

“…now the seats are all empty…”

“I don’t know of any other way to lead but by example.”
~Don Shula

I don’t know if Eric knows about a photo I took, it’s him at AOY pushing a Porta-Potty into place.

Don Shula would sign him on the spot.

Eric Lopez.

Ben Ashby.

Jessie Dolan.

And countless others, names I may never know, may never meet, but make no mistake, it is those behind the curtain that make the show go.

Honor them if you can.

They are the ones standing just out of view, sometimes they peak out, but when you come here, or to any event, say thank you, be polite to the working stiffs who turn chaos into art.

Cheer those in the spotlight.

But cheer also those in the chaos.

Cheer those who built the stage.

Cheer those who light the stage.

Cheer those who clean up after the stage is gone.

Shine the spotlight on those working stiffs in the shadows.

“…but I can hear the sound of slamming doors and folding chairs and that’s a sound they’ll never know.”
The Load Out
Jackson Browne

db

“Chaos is a friend of mine.”
~Bob Dylan