The frenzy of football from the lens of a photographer 

Under the floodlights, the field was a perfect stage, ready for the action, but for me the true drama lived in the viewfinder of my Olympus digital camera.  

The light caught the shine of the helmets and the glint in a player’s eyes through the lens. Everything was a frame waiting to happen, a composition of light and shadow just seconds before the whistle unleashed a flurry of movement. The occasion was the B.C. Junior Varsity Provincial Championships. Tensions were high as the Argyle Pipers and the John Barsby Bulldogs geared up. My focus remained on the exposure settings. As plays were called and players took their place, I dialed in my focus points. The whistle blew, signaling the start of the game and the beginning of my hunt for the perfect shot. 

For most, football is a game of strategy, the thrill of the play, and the roar of the crowd. But from the sidelines, it’s a study in visual storytelling. It’s about tracking raw emotion, making split-second shutter decisions and documenting the unspoken trust between coaches and teammates all unfolding at an electric pace that tests the limit of any camera. 

The shoot begins long before kickoff. It starts with the hum of anticipation during warmups capturing the quiet moments of reflection, the calm before the storm. Here, the camera can capture frames that are often missed by the casual spectator but are crucial to the narrative. I look for the subtle cues, a coach’s encouraging hand on a player’s shoulder, the shine of a helmet being adjusted, or the blurred motion of teammates in a huddle. These pre-game rituals set the visual stage for the action to come. 

Once the whistle blows, its controlled chaos. The camera becomes an extension of my eyes, scanning, anticipating, and reacting. Not just following the ball but looking for the story within the frame. It’s the grit etched on a lineman’s face, as his muscles tense against a block, or the silhouette of a wide receiver mid-air, defying gravity to snag a pass against the dark sky. 

The beauty of this sport, for a photographer, lies in these fleeting moments. The explosion of energy at the snap, the intricate dance of blockers and rushers, and the precise footwork of a running back are all potential masterpieces. It requires a constant adjustment of settings and framing, trying to freeze time and encapsulate the human effort in a single, sharp image. 

But it’s not just about the highlight reel. My objective is to capture the full range of human emotion across the field. Watching for the unwavering support between teammates after a rough play, the intensity of a coach’s silhouette on the sidelines, or the elation of a player celebrating with the crowd. These are the frames that tell a story of the night.  

Though sports photography is exciting, there are big hurdles to overcome. Game times range from bright morning sun to the harsh uneven glow of stadium lights. The junior varsity championship game posed the dual challenge of darkness and dropping temperature. Even though the floodlights illuminate the field for players, they are not enough for the cameras. This creates an almost impossible contradiction between achieving a fast enough shutter speed to freeze time while still keeping the shutter open long enough to allow sufficient light into the photo. 

The cold also became a physical challenge. As the temperature dropped, my hands slowed, making it difficult to manipulate the dials and keep up with the pace of the game. I watched plays flawlessly executed through the viewfinder only to miss it by a fraction of a second due to stiff fingers. Additionally, being on the sidelines means staying hyperaware, always focused on the play to ensure I’m not hit by a stray ball or a tackle spilling out of bounds. 

The game ended in a crushing loss for the Pipers whose coach had invited me to photograph their effort that day. The Pipers fell 3-34 to the Bulldogs. Though the match did not end the way they wanted it to, it still marked a major success for them: the first time the team ever made it to the provincial championships, a feat that was visible in every frame. 

Though the game didn’t end in a triumph on paper for the Pipers, a nonetheless real victory remains in the archives. The silent handshakes, the look of determination, and the effort in the face of defeat are forever frozen.  

And if I’ve done my job as photographer well, they will tell a deeper, more enduring story than the final score. 

Cover Image: Lily Hughes/8forty