Editors Note:


EDITOR'S NOTE: Fresh off a three year managerial stint, your friendly neighborhood lenslinger is back on the street and under heavy deadline. As the numbing effects of his self-imposed containment wear off, vexing reflections and pithy epistles are sure to follow...

Monday, September 21, 2009

Friday Night Shite

Old SchoolAhhh, high school football season, that special time of year when TV stations place high-dollar fancycams into the hands of interns, part-timers and that slacker down the hall who thinks he might like to be a PHO-tog. Dashing from game to game in car-jacked news units, they strut and prowl the sidelines of their former youth; zooming in on tight-ends and wide receivers, whipping underage crowds into orgasmic frenzy and gathering whatever leftover glory they can stuff into a rolled-up program. I guess if you're a certain type of sports fan, it's nirvana. Not so for the everyday shooter. Those missing camera batteries, the twisted viewfinder knobs, that delicious smell of cigarette smoke permeating every pore of your mobile office - why it's enough to volunteer for weekend call, just so you can keep your gear from being groped and tickled...

Okay, so I'm venting. But if you've ever checked in on a Monday morning to find your tools of the trade misplaced, manhandled or otherwise maligned, you'd understand. Then again, maybe you wouldn't. Maybe those fleeting seconds of gridiron glory are more than enough to make up for those hard-target searches every seven days. Me, I could do without these weekly games of hide and seek. Then again, I'm not your typical sports fan. Sure, I tune in every Sunday to watch my beloved Panthers lose in glorious high-def, but otherwise young men in tights have never really turned me on. I went to football games in high school, mind you, but more to flirt with girls and swig Everclear than ever pay attention to what was happening on the field. Since then, I've lived a full life without ever developing a regional crush on up and coming athletes, but as the above photo proves, even a bookworm like me shot local gridiron Back In The Day (1990 in my case).

With that in mind, I'll try to be more forgiving when it comes to you weekend warriors. It would be a lot easier though, if you'd treat the equipment less like the padded athlete you so idolize and more like the cheerleaders you never went out with. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to run a DNA test on a few floorboard french fries...

2 comments:

jwest said...

the only thing worse then your gear getting hi jacked is that I get hi jacked from the news department.

Oreo said...

As a daily news shooter, I rather looked forward to Friday nights in the fall. For one, it meant overtime, but it also was time away from the death and destruction. Not that I could switch off and fly on autopilot. Shooting sports made me a better news shooter. It develops the skills needed to anticipate action and seek out the characters on a scene. I love the thrill of the hunt, trying to get into the right postion to perfectly frame a pass as it journeys from the hands of the quaterback to the hands of a receiver, or to hear the crush of pads when a linebacker lays that monster hit on an unsuspecting running back.

Now that I'm at a station that doesn't cover high school, I'm really missing it. I've shot HS, college and pro football, and HS is the hardest by far. It's the fact that they are so undiciplined in their technique that plays don't necessarily develop as planned.

It's also a good way to keep your gear without the oh-dark-thirty wake-up call.