Staying Calm in the Storm ... Literally

When announcing you are the voice of a show. Your tone and attitude are reflected by everyone. I feel it’s my job to help the show run as smoothly as possible. To me, that means knowing each show’s unique needs and rules, keeping competitors informed, and respecting the roles and duties of other staff. Everyone has good and bad days, and I am no exception. Honestly, I don't stay as calm, cool, and collected as I would like every moment at every show. Staying calm and positive is not always easy. There are some situations that put everything you’ve learned to the test. As with all things we do, some days are tougher than others. I truly enjoy working at horse shows. The people, the horses, and the atmosphere are my happy place. I’m going to tell you many stories about the good, great, amazing, and fun days, but I want to be honest with you about the difficult days too. If you’ve been to more than a few shows, you’ve probably been through days like these. These stories are from my perspective as an announcer on some of the tougher days I’ve experienced.

Many of you have experienced a week at county fair and understand all of the ups and downs. You may be an exhibitor, parent, project leader, fair board member, or even a combination of these at the same time. I was a 4-Her for many years, I’ve judged at county fair, and been a “show-aunt” and now I am a Horse and Pony project superintendent. My rookie year as a superintendent was a doozy. The fairgrounds had just remodeled their barns and for the first time, the horse stalls and show arena were all under one roof. As superintendents, we tried to envision all the changes and adjustments that would bring. Having the same person on the mic consistently instead of multiple volunteers announcing seemed best. That person was me. We had all of the normal tasks and challenges a county fair horse project has, but Mother Nature decided to add drama every chance she could. We had dangerous excessive heat every day, unpredicted severe storms, and power outages. In particular, the evening of the trail show still sticks out for me. We had very little warning that a severe storm had popped up and was headed right for us. The superintendent chair called the team together. I was still announcing and kept moving the show along as we all discussed the game plan and procedures, and then set them in motion. My job was to keep doing what I was doing, announcing. First, we started letting people know we were aware of the weather, keeping an eye on things, and would keep everyone posted. Within a few minutes we went from sunny and hot to an intense downpour and thunderstorm. The chair already had people stalled near the overhead doors ready to bring them down on cue. I gave the word and down they came. We moved the horse walking path inside and went on with the show. If you've been on a show committee or part of the show staff, you know what was happening behind the scenes. Kids, parents, leaders, and spectators were getting antsy and concerned. Some people think you should keep going and others think you should stop - and they are telling every superintendent what they think is best. Lots of opinions from every direction. I'm announcing as well as being a superintendent trying to help the team make the best decision for everyone. At one point I had to move myself away from the conversation so I could take a deep breath and keep announcing. The storm looked brief on the radar, whew. But it had one punch that stopped the show -- it knocked out the power, the building went dark. We all hollered in unison "riders dismount and stay where you are." Luckily, the storm passed quickly and the backup generator kicked in. Once the lights and fans were back on, the show went on, but the mic was dead. Thankfully, I was part of an amazing team. We used 2-way radios to communicate among the superintendents and show staff to keep everything moving. From the announcers stand we could hear the superintendents hollering in the stall area when it was time to move the next class to staging. The only glitch left to overcome was announcing results. I now know that I don't need a mic to announce class placings at the Alliant Energy Center.

This was just one example of my crazy rookie year. I could tell you several stories about having to stay calm when weather rolls in while announcing. It's not always easy, but its more common to handle weather than you might think. Especially in Wisconsin where we can have a wide range of weather conditions in one day. Weather is not the only reason it’s hard to stay calm when you're announcing. I've been on the mic during a serious accident a couple of times now. In those moments, I cannot gasp with concern. I have to keep the crowd calm and communicate appropriate updates.

One time, a young lady had just finished a game class run and, for some reason, grabbed the top rail of the arena fence when her horse came to a stop. In that same moment, the horse spooked and abruptly pulled away from the rail. She was jerked off the horse and hit the ground hard. Thankfully, the young lady walked away and finished the show. Another time a lead line team was walking back to the barn and a bee stung the horse. The horse started bucking and mom and daughter ended up under it on the ground in a ball. The mom was taken by ambulance to the local hospital. She had a concussion and received 4 staples. The daughter was shaken up but unharmed. In both cases the show had to be delayed until everyone was checked out by medical personnel. In those moments I have to know when it’s time to hold the show up and when it’s time to get the show rolling again. It’s not easy because I’m worried and wondering the same thing as everyone else … are they okay? When it’s time to get going again I'm saying silent prayers while announcing the first call for the next class. I’m also checking to see if the judges are back. Is there someone at the gate? Am I on the right class sheet? Everything happens fast and I need to know it’s all back in place before we start.

For me personally, my toughest day announcing is in a category of its own. I am tearing up as I write. Not sure I can be very detailed because it’s so hard to describe. It was a beautiful sunny morning with halter classes moving along nicely. We had just finished gelding halter classes when something at the barn sent several competitors running. As the mare halter classes started, and I got the word there was a horse with a leg stuck in the stall door. Over the next few minutes, the world was in chaos outside the arena and the show went on calmly inside the arena. Curiosity and concern for my friends was tearing at me. As I began announcing placings for the most recent class, I saw one of the competitors from the same group as the injured horse coming toward me. The look in her face told me the worst had happened. I could not hold back my tears for long. My voice was audibly shaking as I finished announcing the class placings. The horse had broken its leg so severely that it had to be put down. The situation lasted 45 minutes from start to finish. They were the toughest 45 mins I've had while announcing. We took a break as every person on the grounds grieved, hugged and consoled one another. The show eventually went on. We all shed tears on and off for the remainder of the day. Still do, still am.

There are way, way, way more days with success stories, fun stories and happy endings. We will get to all of those in due time. Sometimes though, you just gotta be real. You have to take a deep breath, let it all out and carry on. Earlier I said “if you’ve been to more than a few shows, you’ve probably been through days like these too” and I would bet you’re thinking of a tough day right now. But, my point is, we get through them. The good memories outweigh the bad by a long shot. Honor them both. Learn and grow from both.