The Daily Gamecock

Catching fire: USC twirler braves dangers of flying, flaming batons

	<p>Fourth-year broadcast journalism student Catherine Ramirez tosses her batons at a Parents Weekend tailgate. She will perform for the last time Saturday at the <span class="caps">USC</span> vs. Clemson game.</p>
Fourth-year broadcast journalism student Catherine Ramirez tosses her batons at a Parents Weekend tailgate. She will perform for the last time Saturday at the USC vs. Clemson game.

Ramirez began twirling at age 2

She might easily be lost in the sea of uniforms that floods the field at Williams-Brice Stadium at halftime on gamedays — if it weren’t for her special talent.

For the final time this Saturday, you can find Catherine Ramirez flinging her fire-lit batons into the air, dancing and spinning without missing a beat as the Mighty Sound of the Southeast marches around her.

Ramirez, a fourth-year broadcast journalism student, began twirling batons at the age of 2. Her mother was her first coach and has remained one of her biggest supporters.

Twirling, which is a competitive sport outside of marching band performances, has become one of the most important aspects of her life. She twirls between eight and 12 hours a week year-round, whether in preparation for a USC halftime show or a major competition — regional, national or worldwide. She balances the baton with a full course load and leadership positions across campus.

Ramirez has experienced great success in the competitive world of twirling, making yearly appearances at national and worldwide competitions. She won a flurry of awards two summers ago in the senior division of the United States Twirling Association League National Championships. Last summer, she finished in the top five among all competitors across divisions.

But despite so much success on large stages, Ramirez still maintains her little fears about her performances, many of which include batons set on fire for additional effect.

“What makes me feel better about doing fire is that I’ve twirled so much without fire,” Ramirez said. “Having twirled my entire life, I’m very comfortable with the tricks that you see.

“That said, I’m always really scared that I’m going to set myself on fire, no matter how many times I do it. I mean, I know the chances of me doing it are really slim, and I do trust myself not to, but I always think I’m going to.”

Ramirez even checks herself occasionally to make sure she has not, in fact, set herself on fire.

“All my friends can tell when I do it, so they think it’s the funniest thing that I’m checking to be sure I’m not in flames and they just burst out laughing,” she said.

Unlike the band, the twirling acts aren’t choreographed. In the interest of safety or crowd approval, Ramirez can tailor her performances in a variety of ways.

“I definitely do adapt some things,” she said. “On the field, it revolves more around what the crowd likes and what feels right at that time.”

At the Nov. 2 halftime show during the Mississippi State game, for instance, Ramirez said she had to take into account the windy conditions on the field, which can complicate even a nonfire baton routine.

Overall, though, Ramirez considers twirling a fun and engaging pastime, regardless of all the stress or anxiety that others might feel were they in her place.

“Every time we hit the Gamecock chant, I just have to sit back and think, ‘This is ending soon, but it’s so awesome,’” Ramirez said. “My favorite part of what I do is when people come up to me and say that they really enjoy watching me.”

— News Editor Amanda Coyne contributed reporting.


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