Little m Long a

Somehow, I thought this was going to be more difficult.

Zander (singing to himself in the back of the car):  It was not your fault but mine.  It was your heart on the line.  I really fucked it up this time….

Zella:  Zander!!  You can’t say that!!  It’s a bad word.

Zander:  What’s a bad word?

Zella:  Fuck.  You can’t say fuck!

Zander:  I didn’t.

Zella:  Yes you did, Zander.  You said, “I really fucked it up this time.”  And you can’t say that because fuck is a bad word.

Zander:  Oh.

(And then after a few seconds of pondering…)

Me:  Zella, do you realize how many times you just said the bad word?

Zella:  Well…..it was Zander’s fault.

Welcome to my world!

The conversation took place about six months ago.  I wrote it down back then as best I could recall, but I never posted.  No good reason.  I just didn’t.  Seems I’ve done that quite a bit over the last several months.  Not posted.

No good reason.  I just didn’t.

Maybe there are reasons….

And the green grass grew all around, all around….

No, that’s not how the song goes.  There is a song.  It’s been a while so I’m not really sure how it goes to tell the truth.  I think it ends up something like — well, the feather on the wing and the wing on the bird and the bird in the egg and the egg in the nest and the nest on the limb and the limb on the tree and the tree on the root and the root in the ground and the green grass grew all around, all around.  And the green grass grew all around.  But it’s what I thought when I saw this little sprig of grass (weeds) growing out of the crack on the side of the building.

Because that’s how my mind goes.

I’ve been passing this sign for years and I’ve never had my camera.

I happened by today with my camera. Snapped a few that didn’t really turn out the way I wanted but with a little cropping and some rotation and a little black and white and….

Well this is about as good as it’s gonna get.

Walter Ioos Jr. …

Max Rossi …

Neil Leifer …

Charles M. Conlon …

Erik Refner …

All very famous sports photographers.

Me?

Not so much.

You see, one of the things that distinguishes the amazing skills of these five photographers and a mere dolt like me — there are myriads of differences, don’t be fooled — but the single most important attribute that comes to mind…

Is that they pressed the shutter.  They took the shot.

I’ve taken over 700 photos of my son’s football games and practices this fall.  I’m always at the ready, camera in hand, snapping away.

Today, Zane caught his very first pass!!  A 13 yarder for a first down.  (Well, it would have been first and goal but he was called for excessive celebration after the play because he threw the ball down instead of giving it to the ref.  He was just a tad bit excited.  The net was an 8 yard completion.)

I was right there on the sideline, kneeling, camera in hand not 15 yards from where it all happened.

And I never took a picture.

Oh I screamed until I was hoarse and nearly cried right there in front of everyone I was so proud of him.  But I didn’t take a picture.  And I’m sick about it.  (Though not nearly as upset as he’s been rehashing his after catch celebration and penalty.)

Not all is lost though for several of the parents captured the feat on video and have promised to send me a copy, so I’ve got that.

But it sure would be nice to share with with you a picture of that catch.

As it is — I got set and hike.

Brilliant!