I am registered on several film job sites seeking work. A certain company who I shall leave unnamed found me and offered me a position casting some extras for Bud Bowl 2006. I didn’t hesitate to agree to do it. Offers like this don’t come along often.

Bud Bowl 2006 was to be held at the Old Tigers Stadium. It was 3 days of concerts to coincide with the Superbowl. This company was seeking 9 “ball players”. They wanted people to dress in baseball uniforms and entertain the crowd around the shows.

Let us call the gentleman who was my point of contact for this venture Dick. Dick had called me at work. He advised me that he would email me the details of his company’s desires for the players that evening. I told him that I would respond promptly.

I received no email that night, but got a call the next morning at 10am asking how I was coming along with the players. Right then, I knew this guy was going to be trouble. If I don’t have any details, how would I recruit anyone? How would that conversation go? “Uh, hi. This is Taryn. Do you want to dress up like a baseball player? No I don’t know exactly when or where or why, but I’m expected to have some people by the morning even though I have no details and I’m working a day job so I’d only have a few hours tonight to do this.”

Dick finally did get me the details that I needed. He made it seem like an easy gig: Just toss a ball around in the uniforms for a few hours. It’ll pay $10 per hour. The players will be at The Bud Bowl for five hours but only needed to perform for three. The rest of the time, there’ll be free beer, free food and the shows. The concerts were a Motown Cover Band, Snoop Dogg and Three Doors Down. I got the players fairly quickly. I just asked friends and family who had played baseball or softball. Who’d pass up a chance like this? Free food and beer and great music, just to put on a uniform and toss a ball around for a bit. Piece of cake.

However Dick was constantly bothering me for more information and expecting it in very unrealistic time frames. Obviously, he didn’t realize that I wasn’t just sitting around, waiting for work with no other responsibilities or obligations. Either that or he didn’t care. Either way, things quickly escalated from minor annoyance to aggravating burden.

He emailed me on the Thursday the week prior to The Bud Bowl in the evening and wanted the players’ hat, chest and waist sizes. I had previously given him their sizes in general sizes, like small, medium and large. Could he not have asked for me to get these more specific sizes when I was acquiring the general sizes? Of course not. That would have been too easy.

Instead, he wanted these sizes and he wanted them the next day. I had to work. I explained that to him. It still hadn’t hit him that I had a job, that he was calling me at work, and that I might have more regular and higher priority demands on my time. I only asked for a fee of $100 since this is the usual day rate that I receive for film work. Would I be paying bills with that, since this obligation was going on for over 3 weeks? I think not; but I was going to partake in the beer, food and shows, so it was close enough to fair for me.

Dick had the players’ phone numbers and contacted them himself. He could not reach one player and called me at work (naturally!) to see if I could get in touch with that player. I again explained that I was at work and the contact information for the players was at home. Furthermore, this particular player was only reachable through email and I did not have access to my email at work. I had informed Dick the night prior that I would be at work and not have access to my cell phone or my email.

I took the trouble to go home on my lunch hour, email that player and cc: Dick. He called me again and asked if I had received a response from the sought-after player. I had to again explain that I was at work without access to my cell or email and that I had gone home on my lunch hour to send that email. Dick then informed me that he got 7 of the 9 players, so the other two could wait until Monday.

Dick.

The ninth player did not respond all weekend and I called a friend who I had enlisted as back-up in the event that someone dropped out. He was on board. I got his and the other player’s sizes to Dick. Everything was set.

We were scheduled to be at Bud Bowl for three nights, Thursday, Friday and Saturday, from 7pm to midnight each night. The shows were going to start around 8:30pm each night. So, according to Dick’s 3-hour plan, we should have been “playing” from approximately 7pm to 9pm, watching the show until 11pm, and then going back to playing from 11pm to midnight.

I had to ask Dick several times for parking arrangements and where to meet exactly and other vital details. Some queries were answered. Others were left at, “You’ll see when you get there.” Boy, did we ever!

The whole of The Bud Bowl activities were held inside a temperature-controlled tent. I had seen this on a website about the Bowl and asked Dick about this. I assumed we’d be performing in the tent and just wanted to confirm that with him. He said he knew of no such thing. In retrospect, I believe he knew about it all along. Had he told me that everyone but the players would be in this tent, I think he knew that people would be less than eager to participate.

Upon arriving at the Bud Bowl, I met with some of Dick’s colleagues. They were just as pleasant as he was. While Dick may have not been there in person, his lackeys were more than sufficient Dicks in his absence.

I was taken from the warmth and dryness of the tent, all the way out through the back of the tent to what was designated as the smokers’ area. There was the dugout and muddy playing field where my players were to be for at least 3 hours for the next 3 nights, out in the elements.

I was tempted to take everyone and leave right then. I should have, but I didn’t. My players arrived, saw what I saw, and stayed anyway – for me and for the promise of free beer, food and a show. Honestly, we were all there for that. Most of us especially wanted to see Snoop.

It rained all night Thursday. We refused to play. Dick’s pals came out and insisted we play. I say “we” even though I’m not playing because a Casting Director develops a kinship with her talent that stems from feeling responsible for them, like a mother to her children. So I felt that we were a team.

My players obliged for a bit, but then retreated to the dugout. After a couple hours, I figured that was enough. So I escorted everyone inside. We were confronted by Dick’s entourage, and told someone was to be on the field at all times. I countered first with the fact that this is not what was agreed upon and that I would not stray from that deal. I added that it was raining. At night. In February.

Dick’s buddies insisted that I was mistaken as to the terms of the agreement and further argued that “real” baseball players play in the rain. I retorted that I was not mistaken and quoted Dick. I further stated that many a baseball game was called on account of rain. Neither of us backed down. I feared we might be kicked out, but we did not get ejected – then, anyway.

So we stayed inside for a while. We did enjoy some free beer. The food was a little meager: bags of chips, wings, fruit chunks and raw veggies. The show was cool. There was also a deejay and a dance floor.

After a bit, the players went back outside but stayed in the dugout, taking shelter from the rain. We were finally released after four hours of torment. But that wasn’t the end of the story. Far from it.