On Being a Fan....

As much as i love being a sports photographer and a photojournalist, sometimes i miss being a fan.

While the sidelines are great, being in the stands and being able to .... comment.... on the skills and abilities of the umpires and referees and yell and scream and rave are what makes sports entertaining.

I must confess that I am a true-believing Philadelphia fan, born out of the joy that was Carlton, McGraw and Mr. 548 Michael Jack Schmidt. I missed out on 1980 - too young. I remember the 83 series against the Orioles - living in Virginia we somehow got tickets but somehow at 8, i didn't get to go. Then came the down years with a bright spot in 1993, only to see the Phils blow it in Game 4 and finally run out of gas in Game 6. The dark times came and it was hard to be a fan of a team that consistently finished 20-30 games out of first while PESKY expansion teams from Florida was going to the show. I went to see Mike Scoscia night at the Vet (against the Dodgers) and then to see the First Place Phillies take on the Braves on Mike Schmidt night. Upper deck, last row, 700 level. Best seats I ever had. Little did i know that it would be a minor ice age before i would see my favorite team in first again.

Somewhere along this timeline, i had a chance to meet a shortstop through my work. Not just any shortstop (Like Cal Ripken, i met him in 83. Eh.) but THE shortstop, Jimmy Rollins. Walking into the Clearwater locker room was like entering a Cathedrial. For the first time in my career, my objectivity was totally gone. I wasn't an assistant or a photographer. I was an 8-year-old kid standing in the holiest of holys, the locker room of my favorite teams. (Naturally i didnt say anything beyond reeling of a litany of Phillies history to the guy i was assisting.)

Fast forward two years - got a chance to work two spring training games. Tried my best, maybe too hard, to try and make a portfolio picture out of them. Didnt happen.

Fall back to September 2007. I'm waiting to photograph the Dropkick Murphys in Atlanta while checking my phone every 5 minutes for the scores. The Phillies get into first while I'm photographing on stage. The team comes up short as they win the east but get knocked off by ANOTHER PESKY EXPANSION TEAM in three games.

This brings us to 2008. I've followed every game. Every pitch. Every move. Written them off in late August as another team that came up short only to scoreboard watch in late September and listen to Harry Kalas when i was stuck in the car during games. I must thank Major League Baseball for scheduling around Friday Night Football.

Tonight, with a win the Phillies could clinch their second ever World Series. Journalistically, there's no other place I'd rather be. That's the career dream assignment - a Phillies World Series clinching game in Philadelphia. As a fan, there's no place i'd rather be then at that game. This game, this one singular game, means everything. But I am in Georgia and nowhere near this game. I'll be at a debate while my team starts the most meaningful game in 25 years.

The passions that i feel now for these Phillies are the same passions that fans feel for THEIR team, be it Georgia or a high school team. The thrill of victory, the agony of defeat, thats what it's all about. Thats what my photos have to convey of the sports i cover. Because my readership is just a flip side of myself - same passions, different team. I just can't mail it in merely because I'm not into it or that it's raining or I'm sick or that I'm just not into it.

My job is to show the ebb and flow, the passions and the poetry and capture photos that makes someone hold up the front page and yell "Thats My Team!" Because come tomorrow, I'll be that guy holding up that page. What we do, what i do, I do it for the fans.