I can say with the utmost certainty that my wife does not look forward to the CWS. Every June I set up a small tent near the left field bullpen, steal wifi and occasionally venture outside of the stadium to find a NCAA approved postcard to send the kids. Well, that might be an exaggeration. I usually just buy the regular postcards.
The CWS creates a black hole where time is loosely measured by what game number it is, less the minor details of things like days. Every so often you're reminded of the date when getting your meal ticket punched in the press box, but it's more like a fleeting recognition that whatever day yesterday was you didn't eat. No, wait, that was hot dog day. Maybe I blacked that out on purpose.
Hit the jump...
It starts out innocuously. An email shows up that informs you that it's time to submit your application for a media pass. Cool. Let's see...check yes for local, yes I'll shoot regardless of the team...parking pass? Yes. Please. *submit*
Days pass and there's that beep again. Email. Ooh, it says CWS and that magic word, "Approved". There are a lot of other words in there like, "Media Guidelines" and something about satellite coordinates. But that one; that's all I'm concerned with. Approved. It's official, I'm signed up for my two week baseball stay-cation.
Then, all of a sudden it's mid-June. Teams are in super regionals and it's time to go shopping. No, I'm not buying, the teams are shopping. This process goes quick. If you're watching ESPN, stay up late after that championship super-regional because after the team's done celebrating the emails fly out. It's 2am and my inbox beeps. Shoppers. This year it's Stony Brook who accepts my offer.
Packet pick up day is important. It's not like you really DO anything. You go to the meeting room specified in your email where several nice people make sure you have your packet. Play it cool, Adam. You don't need to wear your shiny new credential as you pick up your official photographer's vest. New this year, we're checking out the vests. I'm number 274. That's it. All done. This brief, but important errand marks the event horizon: you have entered the CWS black hole.
The next two weeks just happen. Shoot. Upload. Edit. Sleep. Beg co-workers for more time off to shoot. It takes all of a few steps to get caught up in it. Walk down the tunnel to the field, shed the air conditioning and with that first cold stare from the field security you've arrived and it's like you never left.
Sometimes the games are slow. TD Ameritrade park is a pitcher's wet dream where nearly nothing leaves the park. Going through those photos can be just as painful as going through trays of your in-law's family vacation.
"This is John. He's the starting pitcher. Aww, see there he goes. It's the first pitch......yep, he's got the curveball right there...oh, see the stretch in the delivery?...and this pitch is the one where he adjusted his cap right beforehand...i shot this one just to commemorate his 50th pitch...."
Other games go quick. So quick you barely get a chance to burn in some tan lines. The sexy ones that only show up on the west-facing side of your body.
Two games per day give way to one elimination game per day. The stool in the photo pits become like your favorite recliner, molded to fit you. The first full week is over and the teams are set for the championship series. Everyone gets a day off.
This year the opening ceremonies were rained out. Imagine, severe weather in Nebraska. In June. For some reason the fireworks still fired off as planned but the flyover was rescheduled for the evening of championship game 1. What a fantastic idea. No, really. Watching the group of F-16 fighters fly over separated this 3-game series from the previous 13 or 14 games as an event unto itself. Not just a few more games after a day off, but a championship series; THE place to be.
Now, truth be told, that first of three games really is like most other games. One of the teams will win, they'll congratulate each other and head back to the hotels. We'll go back under the stadium to edit and upload photos to ftps, make deadlines and get some sleep. Wait, sleep? No. I would much rather stay up all night planning out every end-game scenario. And by "rather" I mean more of an involuntary strategic cram session, terrified of missing an angle I should've thought about or a crappy camera strategy leaving me shooting the on-field rush of the winning team with a fisheye. You can zoom that in, right????
The second game it gets really cool. You can feel it every where. IT. That excitement knowing the biggest moment of the year for college baseball is just about there. Someone is going to win it all. The fans know it, and as every out passes they get more excited. As the game reaches the final inning everyone is standing, screaming, enthusiastically reacting to every play. Luckily I can hide my smile behind my camera. Don't want your fellow photographers to actually think you're *enjoying* yourself! N00b.
Guys in the pits have opened up their laptops. Most everyone is all business. Pics of the winning moment will be immediately uploaded. No passing go, no collecting $200. That guy you haven't seen all week is there now for one purpose. He's going to shoot 30 shots of the pitcher, the pitcher hugging the catcher and the team rushing the field. He's not going to get up from his stool, instead merely eject his card from his camera body, swivel to his laptop and send those pics out. His mobile phone is tethered, at the ready just in case something goes wrong with the wireless.
For the millionth time I run through the list in my head. Ok, Arizona will probably win. Get bench reaction. They'll rush the field. Check outfield just in case. Shoot the pile-up. Don't forget a wide shot. The fireworks will shoot off from left field. Is my fisheye in my pocket? Fresh storage cards. I need to get rid of these sunflower seeds.
There's really nothing like it in the world. Third out. They rush the field. Shoot shoot shoot. Stick to the plan. Move over near the steps out of the dugout and onto the field. ESPN gets their shots and we're released to our corral in foul territory. South Carolina stands at the dugout, watching Arizona celebrate. Get some sad pictures. Quick, get over to home place for a good position for awards. Trophies are presented and the trumpet player blows out a sentimental "Take Me Out to the Ball Game".
Pics are uploaded one last time. Don't forget anything in the workroom. At one time the $50 penalty was weighed against the souvenir value of the photo jersey, but now? No. Not worth it. God that thing stinks.
CWS t-plus one day. Your kid is about a foot taller, everyone around the house is wearing name badges just in case and frankly it wouldn't really be much of a shocker if Doc Brown showed up dumping banana peels into Mr Fusion and telling you about this alternate
All done.
No comments:
Post a Comment