October, 1998

I remembered getting stuck in rush-hour traffic in Miami and swearing up a storm, as I could see the arena only a few miles from where I was. It was where I needed to be. For work. I needed to get to work. I didn’t recall much of what happened when I got to the arena, running through the bowels of the building, still wearing my Smith College swimming jacket and carrying a laptop bag to meet the crew I’d be working with. I didn’t even work in sports. I was just told to go the hockey game and meet a production crew there, and I didn’t even remember who was playing that night or who even won. I didn’t care.

But I remembered how I powered down my makeshift workstation, put away all the cables, shook hands with the people around me and hustled out of o...

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