[part title=”Action Sports Jobs For Those Not Good Enough to Go Pro”]
Agents represent the commercial interests of pros. They negotiate lucrative contracts, workout competition schedules, and keep track of exactly where energy drink stickers are placed. An agent is the link between the suits and the stars.
Remember the guy in the Ferrari that probably wasn’t a ramp builder? That’s because he was a sports agent. Bag a Shaun White early in their career, and an agent will be laughing all the way to the bank.
Pretty much everybody thinks agents are dicks (although that bed of money helps them sleep at night). Aside from that, to spot emerging talent they may have to scout the nations skate parks, junior comps, dry slopes, all in the hope of spotting a child star.
Try explaining “I’m this kids agent” to the arresting officer on a rainy night in Rotheram.
Marshals are the people who ensure that events go off without a hitch. Usually lining the sides of runs, ensuring spectators don’t get mown down by riders, and escorting them to the medical centre when they do.
More often than not, marshals have proverbial ring-side seats at an event. They’re so close to the action that they can smell it!
Marshals are often seen as the high-vis wearing manifestation of bureaucratic authority. Clip board in hand, barking “stand back” to anybody within a meter of a safety fence, they are the embodiment of The Man that we are so readily encouraged to stick “it” to.
“everybody thinks agents are dicks”
Snow doesn’t just fall in to that elegant corduroy pattern, you know. It has to be pushed, shifted and combed by a dedicated team of groomers. These are the alpine equivalent of groundsmen, ensuring that the piste is maintained for you skiing and snowboarding pleasure.
Groomers get to play around in a big old tractor-like thing for a living. If they’re really lucky, they might even get to cut a few pipes with a Dragon!
And when they’re done, groomers are the first people on the mountain, sneaking a cheeky shred in, without a 14 year olds called Claude flailing wildly towards them at mach 10.
Beating the eager first lift fans up the mountain means groomers starting every day at stupid o’clock. And early starts mean equally early nights.
Either that or driving a snowy combine harvester around an icy mountain while still half cut. Not even a Helgason, hyped on RV Juice is gnarly enough for that.