SNAP JUDGMENT RINGLING BROS.' 'GATOR GUY' REALLY GETS HIS HEAD IN THE GAME.

Byline: Jerry Rice Staff Writer

WHEN T.M. SAYS he's into animals, he means it.

After past jobs that included karaoke host and fork-lift operator, the 42-year-old has a gig with the Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus that allows him to travel and meet new people. And several times a week he also gets an up-close look inside the mouth of a 12-foot-long alligator.

It's a job The Gator Guy, as he is called, doesn't know how long he'll have.

``If my hand slips, then that's it. That's my last act,'' he says. ``The guy who trained me said, 'You don't have to put it in so far.' But I believe in going for it. It has to be exciting.''

As amazing (or crazy) as that may seem, a bigger audience reaction comes when he pulls a 20-foot-long, 150-pound albino Burmese python out of a wicker basket and wraps it around himself, which he'll be doing in the Southland starting today as the Ringling Bros. circus makes stops in Los Angeles and Anaheim.

``I do that in the middle ring - it's a three-ring show - and the gasp goes around the whole building,'' he says. ``When 10,000 or 15,000 people do the same thing at the same time, you actually feel the air being sucked out of the middle ring. I have to wait a few seconds for the air to return.''

So if the python draws a bigger reaction, why isn't he called The Snake Guy?

Well, between the two cold-blooded creatures, the alligator presents more of a physical danger, albeit a calculated one. And in the circus world - always on the lookout for displays of derring-do - there aren't many willing to do what T.M. does.

``When I'm sticking my head inside the alligator's mouth, I'm in such a zone trying to make sure I get through it that I don't hear the reaction,'' he says. ``People have told me that flashbulbs go off all around the arena; it's a Kodak moment. But I don't see the flashbulbs, and I don't hear anything.''

So far, the only mishap came in February when a gator bit off the tip of his thumb, sidelining T.M. for six weeks. When he returned, many of his colleagues joked that T.M. really stands for ``Thumb Missing'' - a ribbing that he took in stride.

Like many of those fellow circus performers, T.M. leads a double life.

``Circus performers are really special people, but we feel very ordinary,'' says the married father of three boys. ``But when we go to work, we fly through the air on the trapeze, walk a tightrope or lead an elephant around. We do some amazing things that are very dangerous and difficult, yet we make it look easy and safe.''

T.M. - Ted McRae is what his mother named him - is quick to point out that there's no trick behind what he does. The alligator (actually there are seven of them that he works with), for example, has all of its teeth. And they're sharp.

``That is one of the things that makes the circus such magic,'' he says. ``The danger is real. The excitement is real. It's all real.''

Also real is T.M.'s love of animals.

``I've always been into animals, since before I can remember,'' he says. ``Animals of all kinds I felt a connection to. My mother tells me stories I would go off into the woods and come back with salamanders or garden snakes down my shirt.''

Many of the critters T.M. came home with became pets, staying in his bedroom, the backyard and wherever.

Perhaps not surprisingly, his favorite TV show is ``The Crocodile Hunter,'' with Steve Irwin on cable's Animal Planet. ``My first reaction to seeing him do his thing was, 'This guy is nuts,' '' he says. ``I'm crazy, but he's a nut. Then I found myself working with alligators, so I guess that makes me a nut, too.''

With Ringling Bros., T.M. is part of a show that includes acrobats, clowns, daredevils and, of course, animals - dozens and dozens of them - like elephants, tigers and horses. Besides T.M., the acts getting top billing this year include Sara the Tiger Whisperer, who steps into the ring with some big cats; Mei Ling, who balances herself using one hand on a motorcycle; Sylvia, an acrobat on the trapeze who when she's on the ground also orchestrates eight white liberty horses; and star funnyman David Larible, winner of the Golden Clown Award at the Monte Carlo International Circus Festival.

One hour before each performance is the Three Ring Adventure, where ticket-holders can go to the arena floor and meet many of the performers, both animal and human. It's when Jon Weiss, who during the regular show will get shot out of a cannon, might demonstrate his ability to balance a 16-foot ladder or a buzzing chain saw on his chin.

``That's what has kept this circus going for 132 years. There is something for everyone,'' T.M. says. ``If this particular act isn't something you like, hold onto your seat because something else is coming to grab you in just a few minutes.''

RINGLING BROS. AND BARNUM & BAILEY CIRCUS

Where: Los Angeles Sports Arena, 3939 S. Figueroa St., Los Angeles; Arrowhead Pond, 2695 E. Katella Ave., Anaheim.

When: July 17-21 in Los Angeles; July 24-Aug. 4 in Anaheim. Bilingual performances 1:30 p.m. July 21 and 28.

Tickets: $13 to $50; $10 on July 17 and 24 (except front row and VIP seating). Call: [phone] or [phone]; www.ringling.com.

CAPTION(S):

2 photos

Photo:

(1) T.M., the alligator wrangler for Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus, throws himself into his work.

(2) T.M. also works with serpents, like this python: ``I've always been into animals, since before I can remember. ... My mother tells me stories I would go off into the woods and come back with salamanders or garden snakes down my shirt.''