Knowing the Buffalo Bills’ game that day was going to be exceptionally frigid — like Monday was and Sunday night is supposed to be — he bundled up. As in, really bundled up. Think Joey, when he dons every article of Chandler’s clothing in that episode of “Friends.”
It was a solid plan with one unforeseen flaw.
While he was comfortable, he could barely bend his arms or legs. Which wouldn’t have been a problem if he wasn’t working as part of the chain crew on the sideline and if a player hadn’t barrelled into him.
“I couldn’t get myself up,” Steve Foxcroft laughs, comparing himself to a turtle stuck upside down on its shell. “I was so bundled up. (My crew) had to roll me over so I could get on all fours. Then hoist me up under my armpits.”
Sure, standing as close to the action as anyone can be without actually being inside the white lines sounds glamorous. But being on the officiating crew at Bills games in wintry conditions isn’t without its challenges. As he found out that day a few years ago and other times over the years.
It was three decades ago that a family friend asked if he’d like to take a crack at the job. It involved holding one of the two orange sticks that are connected by a chain exactly 10 yards long that measures the distance needed for a team to get a first down (a few years ago, he switched to holding the downs box, the stick that shows what down it is. You can spot him since he’s the one wearing the red vest).
Yeah, absolutely, he answered.
It’s turned out to be an amazing gig. Except perhaps when Buffalo turns into, well, Buffalo.
A few years ago in a memorable blizzard game against Indianapolis, the Hamilton native could barely see the field despite standing right on it. Worse, he was wearing running shoes since the snow hadn’t started when he arrived at the park and hadn’t brought boots. That was a mistake.
Four times, the 57-year-old has been flattened. Always, seemingly, in brutal weather conditions that make it feel worse. He’s never been injured, but the time Miami’s Bryan Cox sacked Buffalo quarterback Jim Kelly and they both landed on top of him was no fun.
“Are you all right?” he remembers Kelly asking.
“Yup,” he grunted, lying.
If a long pass is completed or a kick is returned all the way down the field, he has to sprint to get into position. Having been standing in the cold for possibly hours — and not a finely tuned athlete, by his own admission — the muscles don’t react well to that.
A few years ago he decided to ease the discomfort by sitting on one of the heated team benches for a few minutes prior to kickoff. Seemed like a quality plan. Turns out they’re hotter than he expected.
“One of my shoes melted,” he says.
He’s learned some tricks over the years. He still wears layers, though not so many he can’t bend. His secret? A battery powered heated vest. It’s glorious. And he goes through those HotShots hand warmers by the bushelful.
“I swear by those,” he says. “Those are gold.”
On Monday afternoon, he had one in each shoe and five in each pocket. The latter because he can’t wear gloves during the game.
His position requires that he write down the position of the ball on the field to within a third of a yard each play. In the event the sticks have moved but replay overturns a decision, the officials have to be able to retreat to where they were. That’s on him. He’s tried finding gloves that let him scribble legibly but nothing’s worked.
So he can lean the stick against his shoulder and shove his icy hands into his pockets during a TV timeout but the rest of the time, he has to hold it upright. In his bare hands
“If it’s a long drive, I start to feel it,” he says of the cold. “Someone, please turn the ball over or score.”
Perhaps the greatest risk in a Buffalo winter — other than from galloping players or simply freezing — comes from snowballs launched from the stands. While he’s never been drilled with one, he’s had some close calls.
The closest wasn’t a snowball at all. During a game against the Patriots, something flew just past his head and landed 10 feet away on the turf.
“The ref turned and said, ‘You gotta get that off the field,’” he says.
Foxcroft took a step toward it and then stopped.
“I said, ‘It’s a dildo. There’s no way I’m touching that.’”
With all this, he’s missed just one game in 31 years. He loves football, he comes from the Foxcroft Family Officiating Factory, and he laughs that his part-time gig has brought him a flicker of fame. Look closely in Episodes 3 and 5 of the Netflix “Quarterback” show and you’ll spot him.
Besides, even when it’s freezing, his shift only lasts a few hours.
“There are only 32 guys in America who do my job,” he says. “I think there are a-million-and-32 or so who’d like to do it.”
To join the conversation set a first and last name in your user profile.
Sign in or register for free to join the Conversation