Seahawks: Spotlight On the Sidelines.

In photography, sometimes we get so satisfied just finding a good
situation that we don’t follow it through to the end and find the very
best image in that situation. Even if the frame we make isn’t a “contest winner”, we still want to find the best possible photograph at any given time or place.

This especially happens when we are
presented with a different view of a situation that we are used to
seeing in a particular way on a regular basis.

At most NFL
stadiums, the actual benches the players sit on are set back from the
sides of the marked bench area far enough that we have to use a
telephoto lens to make a good shot. If we’re lucky, sometimes a 50mm works.

One of the interesting things I’ve found about the
Edward Jones Dome in St. Louis is that the benches are located really
close to the end of the marked area for the teams (in the N.F.L. this
area is between the 32-yard lines).

Hang on. Let’s backtrack a
step. The bench proximity might be the ONLY interesting thing I’ve
found in that stadium. I hate domes. I shot in one for the first 15
years of my career. No interesting light. No unusual weather. Just
football being played in a loud terrarium.

Back to the benches.

One
of the story lines of the past few weeks with the Seahawks is their
patched together offensive line. Four of five starters were out with
injuries. Not surprisingly, the starting quarterback suffered injuries
while those starters were falling by the wayside.

So there we
were in the Gateway City (did they once used to make computers there?)
and I was photographing a second string quarterback playing behind a
second string line as they played out the season for pride.

Knowing that I want each of my photos to tell a story, I wanted to make a photo of the O-line at some point during the game.

I
found my chance after line coach Mike Solari came over to talk to his
troops after they’d allowed a sack of quarterback Seneca Wallace that
resulted in a fumble.

In the first frames, you can see that I’m
kind of, dare I say, intimidated at shooting these guys from so close.
One mighty swipe of a big taped left paw and I would have been just
another pile of those little gritty rubber things that pass for “dirt”
on the FieldTurf.

I’m standing up while I shoot, and the first frame is underexposed. Remember that when you move from the field of play to the sidelines, the light starts to fall away.

(Nikon D3, Nikkor 24-70mm/f2.8 lens @ 28mm, ISO 2500, 1/1000th sec.,f2.8)

In the second frame, you can see that the composition is a little better, as the players at the right of the frame are no longer talking to one another, but they’re at least looking towards the coach. I’ve also reduced my shutter speed by 2/3 stop.

(Nikon D3, Nikkor 24-70mm/f2.8 lens @ 28mm, ISO 2500, 1/640th sec.,f2.8)

At this point I’m confident enough to know I’m not going to get beaten for being that close, and I take a knee to improve the angle. I’m shooting at 40mm here on a 24-70mm lens. Still, I’ve got some giant hand coming into the frame at upper right, and the scene is still a little chaotic for my tastes. Understand that chaos is part of the story, but this felt more like visual chaos, and it was detracting from the image.

(Nikon D3, Nikkor 24-70mm/f2.8 lens @ 40mm, ISO 2500, 1/640th sec.,f2.8)

Keep in mind that I am not just rapdily firing off frames. I know I’m close enough to be be noticed, IF I bring notice to myself. I’m there, they are vaguely aware I’m there, but I’m firing off a frame or two, recomposing, thinking the entire time. My goal is to get the frame I need and then be on my way. No better way to attract the attention of a security guard (even if you are in a “legal” position) than to make a spectacle of yourself.

Now I am pretty sure I have at least something useable, so I put the camera on the ground to further try to improve the composition. I take the lens wider, out to 26mm. Shoot a frame, look at the image on the camera. Recompose, try again.

(Nikon D3, Nikkor 24-70mm/f2.8 lens @ 26mm, ISO 2500, 1/640th sec.,f2.8)

I’ve shot wide frames by now, and I know I’ve tried to capture the organized chaos of the sidelines, so now I want to shoot tighter and to see what’s there. Unfortunately, I’m not the type of shooter who can “see” what his lens will give him before he looks through the camera. I think I take that class next semester, right before Civics and after Latin. Anyway, I fire off a frame or two at 58mm. I like this one a lot, but stay another 15 seconds or so to fire some backup frames.

(Nikon D3, Nikkor 24-70mm/f2.8 lens @ 58mm, ISO 2500, 1/640th sec.,f2.8)

I move wider again to 36mm, and I like the framing. Still the manager holding the water at right of center seems distracting.

(Nikon D3, Nikkor 24-70mm/f2.8 lens @ 36mm, ISO 2500, 1/640th sec.,f2.8)

Last frame is at the same focal length, with the coach looking up and at least the figures on the left of the frame seem engaged. Somehow, though, I’ve lost the faces at right. Life in the big leagues, right? I feel like I’ve give it a good go, I know I have a frame I can use, and besides, I’ve missed two or three plays on the field in a close game.

(Nikon D3, Nikkor 24-70mm/f2.8 lens @ 36mm, ISO 2500, 1/640th sec.,f2.8)

I find my way back to the action, knowing that “in my pocket” I have a different angle of a different part of the game than is usually featured in the next day’s coverage. When I am being asked to provide a cover photo and 2-3 images per each of the three inside pages, I want that visual variety to help set images apart. To me, there’s nothing more boring than seeing 8-10 images in a row all of someone throwing, catching, or running with the ball.

My philosophy of “taking the readers with me” is something I take very seriously. You’ll probably get a little tired of me talking about it, but it was a great lesson I was once taught and I feel it has value to everyone who has the privilege of covering an event for their readership.