From wanna-be to has-been in hours
Not just anyone is cut out to be a cheerleader on the Bucs sideline, as one intrepid Times reporter learns.
By DALIA WHEATT
Published April 7, 2007
TAMPA
The Web site said, No previous dance/cheer experience required.
That's good, because I barely had any - just a high school ballet class and a semester of modern dance in college. Cheerleading experience? Zip.
So when a co-worker half-jokingly suggested that I try out for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers Cheerleaders, it was with more a sense of adventure than confidence that I set off.
The auditions, held Saturday at the Corral gymnasium at USF, were open to any woman 18 or older. At age 24, I had all I needed, at least on paper.
When I arrived, the place was swarming with 350 hopefuls in bra tops and shorts. I was assigned No. 219, which I pinned to my chest.
I found a spot next to No. 133, Melissa Rushing, who said she had no dance training either.
"Just cheerleading," Rushing said.
As in "just" the football, basketball and competitive cheering squads at Bartow High School, where Rushing is a senior.
Before I could panic, a dance instructor took the stage, led us through some stretches and demonstrated the routine we would perform for the judges, a series of kicks to the tune of OK Go's Here It Goes Again. The choreography was surprisingly straightforward, and we went over it a jillion times. I was feeling good.
Why are you here?
Bucs cheerleading is not a paying gig. Each member of the squad gets two tickets to every game she cheers, and opportunities for paid appearances are available but not guaranteed. Who would sign on for that?
All kinds of women, it turns out. I talked to a survivor of a bad breakup who wanted to show her ex just what he was missing. Then there was a new mom who needed an incentive to shape up after giving birth. And another whose husband thought she'd be a great cheerleader.
The women were young - mostly college age, I'd guess, with the occasional outlier in her early 30s. They came in all ethnicities and with good, but not perfect, bodies. They formed ad-hoc friendships to get through the day, curling each other's hair, sharing Ritz crackers and swapping weight loss tips. There was chitchat about new puppies and relationship woes. Hardly a word was spoken about the Bucs.
The big moment
My audition flew by. I lined up with three other women in front of the judges' table, we did our kicks, and the judges - ballroom dance experts, Buccaneers reps and Damaris Quarles, the wife of linebacker Shelton Quarles - barely looked up from their paperwork. I thought I'd done okay, and text-messaged a friend to let her know.
Sandy Charboneau, the Bucs cheerleading coordinator, got up to announce our fates.
"What you did today took a lot of guts," Charboneau told us. "Give yourselves a round of applause."
Then she read the 200 numbers that would advance to the next phase of auditions.
"Two-o-nine, 213, 214," Charboneau read. I was more nervous than I'd expected. "Two-fifteen, 218, 219 . . ."
Heart pounding, I texted my friend again:
I made it to the 2nd round!
It gets harder
As soon as the castoffs had left the gym, the instructor began teaching a longer, faster, more complicated routine to Beyonce's Get Me Bodied. We turned, gyrated, snapped our fingers sexily, dropped it like it was hot and finished it all off with a pose: left arm straight up, right hand on hip.
I was losing steam. I had no plans to make it to Round 2, and had eaten only grapes for lunch. That was the first mistake.
In over my head! I texted during a water break. And later: Lost my water bottle. Legs sore.
Let's try it again
This time before the judges, we would be in groups of three. I took my mark on the middle X, and the music began.
My group, however, did not.
The judges started the music over and gave us another shot.
Again, we froze.
Desperate, I snapped my fingers, bounced to the beat and never stopped smiling. I felt strangely defiant, grinning in the midst of disaster.
On the last note, when Beyonce sang "Hey!" all three of our left hands shot up. The music stopped. I grinned extra-big.
"Thank you, ladies," was all Charboneau said.
As we walked out, the aspiring cheerleader on my right cursed herself. The one on my left cried.
I reached for my cell phone and typed out another text: pretty sure my cheering career began & ended in 1 day. oh well
Moving on
Truer words were never texted.
I was not invited to return Sunday for final tryouts, where newcomers were joined by last year's team members, who must audition again each season. From there, 28 to 34 will get spots on the squad.
I went home to console myself with a shower and a giant chocolate chip cookie. But a few days later I couldn't resist e-mailing Charboneau, the coordinator, for her take on my performance.
It is sometimes difficult to minimize nerves while auditioning in front of the judges, Charboneau wrote.
She's a nice woman, and quite a diplomat. So I'm sure she didn't mean to make me feel bad when she continued:
The TBBC have had the opportunity in previous years to travel internationally as well as participate in the Armed Forces Entertainment Tour to visit troops overseas, which allows the cheerleaders to spread Buccaneers spirit around the globe.
Traveling the world and entertaining the troops would have been nice. So would the cute little uniform. And the screaming fans. And the free tickets. And . . .
Think I'll have another cookie.
Dalia Wheatt can be reached at dwheatt@sptimes.com.