LITTLE ROCK — Editor's note: The Other Eight is a look at how people spend the remainder of their day, when they're not sleeping or working.
FAYETTEVILLE - The best seat at Harmon Field is in the press box, where on a recent Thursday night a half-dozen middle-aged men leaned over a narrow workbench, studying the Woodland and Ramay junior high school football players below.
The scorekeeper mows down a stadium dog and a bag of chips. An older man who runs the clock makesa wisecrack about the officials. Two other guys keep binoculars to their eyes; they plug numbers into an Excel spreadsheet.
And between them is veterinarian Dr. Mike Mohler, the one with the public address microphone. His voice comes down from on high, narrating in names and numbers what the fans just witnessed in a flash of mashed jerseys.
On a clear night, Mohler's voice can be heard for blocks, from the Fayetteville Square to the University of Arkansas' Old Main. Inthis new century, when noise seems to come mostly from car exhausts and cell phones, Mohler's cries are a cattle call for Fayetteville families and fans to gather 'round for their junior high teams and their Fayetteville High School Bulldogs.
Mohler's voice has a sort of auctioneer's tone that comes from the back of the throat. It's agile, though, and clear. He says "R-r-ramay" and "First-down! ... Indians" with concentrated cadence. At the Woodland-Ramay game, he has fun with the Woodland eighth-grade quarterback's two-syllable name - Duck Dunn. His voice rises and falls in the middle like a manufactured Doppler effect.
His Animal Medical Clinic is a long-established practice - 30 years - and on a routine day he may remove a tumor, clean teeth or set a broken leg. One time he was handed a dog who had eaten a pin cushion spiked with about 75 needles. On another occasion he performed a cesarean section on a gerbil. Those operations took enduring concentration - not unlike his hobby.
In the press box, Mohler looks about as enthusiastic as he'd be at a spaying. His spotters, the ones with the binoculars, sit with laptops before them, and when a play is made they punch in the numbers of the players involved and up pops their names.
In the days preceding the game, spotters Pat Chase, Mason McLeod, Doug Brooks and Scott Cole may call the opposing team's athletic director, get the roster and all the players' names straight. They spell them phonetically so that Mohler will get it right.
"I got one for you - 49," Chase says. "Angus Armendariz."
"No, I know that kid," Mohler says.
No problem. But getting names right, it's critical. It could mean the difference between the kids having a positive experience or being teased, he says, and that could mean the difference between quitting the sport or sticking with it. That's how seriously he takes it.
Last year, announcing a Bulldog baseball game, he witnessed a tremendous grab in centerfield, and hopped on the microphone to announce,"Franco Broyles makes a sensational catch!" Unfortunately, it was the other team's centerfielder. Broyles was on the bench.
He made a correction, but the mistake threw him off the rest of the game. He'll never let his concentration flag again, he says. These games aren't pulling needles from a dog's digestive tract, but he takes it as seriously as surgery.
After eight years of announcing games - three for the Bulldogs - he's still having fun.
He has been a Bulldogs fan and spectator for 30 years.One of the first quarterbacks he ever took note of, Mark Powell, is an orthopedic surgeon in Springdale. Recently, one of the kids whose name he handled with care - Ben Tschepikow - was drafted by the Kansas City Royals.
"I really don't have a dream beyond where I am," Mohler says.
Northwest Profile, Pages 41, 45 on 09/20/2009