Besides their literal value - showing the who, what, and where - newspaper photographs also serve to break up all the words and make text easier to read (try reading some of those old Civil War era newspaper front pages you see in history textbooks - the ones with sixty two stories all on the front page). Newspaper pictures draw you into stories and add information not included in stories. They also decorate. This past week I was assigned to shoot both girls and boys high school and soccer and field hockey to illustrate the season preview pages. "We are looking for different type of artistic shots," and "we are also looking for any kind of creative shot" were my instructions besides photographing key players and coaches.
If by "artistic" sports editors mean something that isn't action, then I guess I delivered. Although, it's probably more by default.
As I said here earlier during an Olympic post, I don't shoot as much sports as I did in my earlier photographic career at United Press International, or even at the Inquirer when I first arrived here. So non-action is what I usually end up with when I make my occasional forays to the sideline.
Just as the kinds of photos I take every day in my news and feature assignments are not only the result of having a "high performance 10.2-MP DX-format CCD" with "Nikon's exclusive Image Processing Engine," (the already-outdated, Nikon D200) but rather, I like to believe, an inquisitive and aesthetically inspired eye for detail, great sports action photos do not just happen because you have the "12.1-MP FX-format CMOS sensor, blazing 9 fps shooting at full FX resolution" super-latest up-to-date Nikon D3 ($4,999.95). You still need to know which fast person to point it at and when to push the button. That's why I usually end up with after-the-fact reaction photos when I cover sports. Like this soccer picture last Thursday of Father Judge midfielder Jeff Wimsey celebrating the first of his two goals for Father Judge against Archbishop Ryan in a rematch of last season's Catholic League championship. And why I risk blowing my deadline to stop and shoot kids on bikes as I walked back to my car at halftime.
