On Top of the World with Messi.
Thanks for finding me yet again after another, and hopefully final move of my blog and website. Special thanks to my amazing wife Kari for the redesign, and for my friends Grover and Allen over at Photoshelter for the integration of my archives.
Trust me when I say that I haven’t been slacking over the past month, despite the absence of posts.
There is so much for me to catch you up on. (And yes, that’s me, the former English major ending with a proposition, but really, these days a sentence reading “There is so much upon which to catch” is even more awkward, isn’t it?)
Is there a rule against starting three straight sentences with the letter “t”?
Many of you pointed out to me how cool my job can be after witnessing the midair refueling of a jet fighter over the Pacific Ocean. If you’re a soccer fan at all, the photo shoot I’m going to share with you might even be cooler.
The shoot came about in a cryptic phone call from Suzanne Lavender, the awesome director of corporate communication for the Sounders and Seahawks. Would I be available for a quick shoot at the Space Needle? Had to be low-key, because it would attract attention from the media and the public, and while that was the goal, all parties involved wanted the shoot to be quiet until the photos were taken.
Sounds good to me. FC Barcelona was in town to face the Seattle Sounders FC in an international friendly, so I assumed it had to do with Barcelona. Then I found it not only involved Barcelona, it involved Lionel Messi. Not only did involve Lionel Messi, it involved Messi on TOP of the Space Needle.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with Messi, he’s currently regarded as the best player in the world right now. Need proof? Check out this video. Need more? Search “Messi” on YouTube.
Met Suzanne and my now-good-friend Gabe Gabor at the base of the Needle at the appointed time. Gabe is this awesome PR man from Miami, who is multilingual and is a “get things done” kind of guy. He’s working with FC Barcelona on their international tour, so he’s also a little freaked out. To put it in perspective, to the rest of the world, FC Barcelona’s soccer team as popular as the Chicago Bulls of the Michael Jordan era, the New York Yankees and the Dallas Cowboys. They do EVERYTHING big. And they want to do it perfect. Gabe is feeling the pressure.
So the first thing Gabe says to me as he hops out of a still moving car, is, “We are NOT going to f*ck this up, right?”
Uh, no?
Looks at me. “You up for this? We gotta be PERFECT!”.
Okay, I get it. Best soccer player in the world. Top of the Space Needle. Let’s go.
Messi and his handlers aren’t due for 45 minutes. Gabe wants to make sure everything is in order. Security, path, sightlines, photo angles. There will also be a helicopter circling shooting as well.
We start to discuss the shoot when it becomes clear to me — Gabe thinks we are only going to the Observation Deck of the Needle. I am under the impression we are going to the TOP of the Needle — somewhere people rarely get to venture.
I tell him, hey, aren’t we taking Messi to the top? Yeah, he replies. To the Observation Deck. That aint’ the top, I tell him. I think we’re going to the roof.
Dave Mandapat, marketing director for the Space Needle arrives and says, yes, we’re going to the top. Gabe is more than a little freaked out. Needs to scout it.
Up the elevator we go to the Observation Deck. Through a back door and up a steep metal ladder. Tight turn, then another ladder. Gabe is behind me, muttering, “No way, man. No way. Do you who this guy IS?”
Through a trap door and we are on the square roof of the Space Needle, right below the spire. The city spreads out before us. There is an inner railing around the trap door, then another outer railing. I skip through the inner railing to check out the photo possiblities. Gabe is clinging to the inner railing.
It will be perfect for Messi, I tell him. The light is a little hazy, but it will work. They’d planned to have him juggle a soccer ball, but it is a bit gusty, and no one wants a ball falling from the top of the Needle onto the ground below. Even if it was last touched by the best soccer player on earth.
So it’s a go. Gabe warns, “now if Messi says no, it’s a no!”
Dude. It’s Lionel Messi. He’s 5′6″ of badass who battles through huge defenders for a living. He won’t be scared.
Messi shows up, and we head up the elevator.
FC Barcelona has brought their photographer, and we have a video guy as well. Messi doesn’t blink an eye headed up the ladders. I go first, so that when we emerge from the trapdoor, I can go to the outer railing and he will follow.
He’s not nervous at all. Leans on the outer railing and starts taking pictures with his cell phone. Total badass. Everyone else but me and him are near the inner rail.
We’re waiting for the helicopter to arrive from Boeing Field, but it’s delayed. Gabe is asking, “what could the hold up be?”. Oh, some small group of pilots named the BLUE ANGELS is waiting to take off first (they’d been in town for Seafair).
Meanwhile, Messi chills. He could be sitting anywhere — his living room at home, another hotel suite, the team room at Camp Nou. Only he’s on top of Seattle, most of this soccer-rabid city unaware he’s perched on the city’s most-recognizable landmark.
Helicopter shows up. Messi holds up commemorative scarf like we’ve shown him. He walks the outside of the roof, making a circle for the helicopter while we hide behind the base of the spire so as not to get in the shot.
It works out great. Easy pictures to shoot because, hey, it’s Messi, and you’re on top of the Space Needle.
We head down to the Observation Deck for some more photos. Dribbling, juggling, the works.
By now, the crowd knows someone important is around. How fast they figured it out was Messi is beyond me, but by the time we get down there (about 15 minutes, tops), there are hundreds of fans with jerseys, scarfs, posters and cameras waiting for a glimpse of him.
Back down the elevator and Messi hops into a waiting Suburban, back to their hotel. He’s been at the Space Needle less than 30 minutes.
Gabe is finally relaxing.
The photos get released to the media. My former colleagues at the Seattle Times initially don’t want the photos. “Who is this guy?” they ask.
Meanwhile, the photos are a hit worldwide. Clips start coming in from everywhere.
Best part? While we were up waiting for the helicopter, FC Barcelona’s photographer grabs a shot of me with Messi.
Two little guys on top of the world.
Thanks for the support and well-wishes.
Thanks, everyone for your words of encouragement and support.
It's been overwhelming and much-appreciated.
Now, if you'll each just send me a box of macaroni-and-cheese or a package of ramen noodles, I'll be able to eat through the winter…
Kidding, of course.
There was a little farewell gathering at the paper on Thursday, and each of the departing staffers was given a small gift along with some kind words of thanks.
Some of them turned into a roast of sorts. Certainly mine did, as my photo editor noted all the things I'd left behind in the office over the years (wallets, keys, sunglasses….cameras!). At least when I'm based out of my house, if I leave stuff around, it will already be in my home, I guess.
For some people, it was pretty emotional. Some had worked there nearly 40 years, and tears flowed. Others had worked there far less, yet had speeches prepared as if they'd won the Heisman Trophy or an Academy Award. I guess one never knows the emotions one will feel as they leave a work place.
Certainly, the factors of why each was leaving (buyout or layoff) had something to do with it.
For me, it wasn't emotional at all. I think that is partly due to the fact that photographers, especially sports photographers, are rarely in the office.
Because everything is now electronic and digital (from photos to expense reports) there is no real need to be in the office. I didn't have an assigned desk (find a table, shove some old newspapers out of the way and grab an ethernet cord), and so sometimes it would be almost a week between my visits there.
From the Times, I received a photograph shot by our own John Lok, and a small gift in a box. I was there with my wife and kids, and when my nine-year old daughter opened the box, she said (pretty much louder than she should have), "A PEN?! LAME!".
It caused titters all around us and she was embarrassed, and another staffer sitting near me cackled, "I'm surprised they could afford a pen!".
Such is the mood at the Times and papers all around the country. Gallows humor abounds as layoffs and bankruptcies are daily events in the industry.
I'm sad to leave, sadder that the industry is struggling so mightily.
Monday is my last day, and as soon as I get off the plane returning from St. Louis (where I will be shooting the Seahawks game against the Rams), I have been instructed to go straight to the office to drop of my cameras, keycard, computer, company credit card and parking pass.
Strange days, indeed.
Welcome to Halftime.
There’s no clock and no scoreboard, nor is there a marching band about to take the field — but it’s halftime.
The first half is over — the stats are in the book and the first half of my career is complete.
As I leave the Seattle Times after nearly two decades, I’m excited to embark on the next phase of my professional life.
I will miss much about my former job — the history I was fortunate enough to witness with my camera, the colorful characters I met along the way, and the friends and mentors who helped me get better — both as a photographer and and as a person.
Actually, my first published photo in the Seattle Times occurred when I was a freshman in college.
Fittingly enough, it was as a member of the University of Washington Marching Band.
Yes, that’s me on the right, the little dude with the trumpet. I’d like to think I look the same, but I know better. Today I have more bags under my eyes and a lot less hair.
Like the second half of most sporting contests, this blog will continue with many of the themes introduced over the past few years in the aptly named “Best Seat In the House” blog that I kept at while at the Times.
I will share with you my photographs — the successes and the failures. We’ll talk about my thought-processes and how particular pictures are created. We’ll talk about barbeque and hamburgers. And because I won’t be working full-time at the paper and also blogging, I’ll have more time to respond to comments and carry on conversations with you.
And in the way that games change after halftime, I’ll also take you along as I forge a new career. It’s a tough economy out there, and competition among photographers is as tough as ever.
I have no job in hand. There is no concrete game plan. I do know that the future will involve photography and writing. And I plan to stay in the sports arena.
It’s an exciting time for me and I can’t wait to get started.
My immediate future will hopefully include touchdowns, dunks and home runs. But I have no doubt I’ll get sacked, stuffed and taken deep every once in a while as well.
Thanks for coming along — it’s time for the second half to begin.