Nothing like a little sports critique to get the debate started....

As a photographer, I have had the privilege to photograph some of the greatest NHL hockey players and goalies of our time. My son played at the higher levels of minor hockey and was considered a talented goalie and has a hard fast shot that can rival some of our NHL boys today. It made it much easier for me to get the right shots, at the right time, when watching the big boys play through my lens.I loved watching my son play, even though at first I would have been happier had he chosen a less expensive sport. To be truthful, I didn't like hockey that much until he started playing. By the time he ended his playing days, I loved it. I loved the game, not so much the parents that criticised and said rude things to his face as he was walking out of the rink with his gear. Even when he was one of the best, the criticizing became worse. It wasn't enough that the team played their hearts out, as adults, you'd think there were lives at stake based on the chatter from the parents.

As a hockey fan, and photographer, I love seeing these men at their competitive best. The freshly washed ice behind the Zamboni, the cheering fans, the slap of the puck hitting the goalies gloves at record breaking speeds, the sounds of skates meeting ice as the shavings fly up and spray the air when they come to a sudden stop. What I have never understood, is fans of the home team slamming their players when things aren't going well in the season. Most who appreciate the game, probably played, or knew someone who played as a kid. Really... this is Canada... who didn't?

This brow beating of our own team completely amazes me. They lose their momentum just a 16th of a degree because of a reason, we, the ticket buying public may not be able to fathom, and we lose our cool at these players. Then the magic is diminished and we bully them even more. The press takes up the gauntlet and not only are the fans booing and making them pay for little mistakes, but they are being skewered to the stake and members of the club, from the high profile players to the equipment guys are being thrown to the wolves.

Can you imagine what it must feel like to have 20,000 people giving you the evil eye because you were late for work, forgot to sign your rent cheque, or missed a Dr check-up? That's a lot of hate and bad energy we heap on one person, or one team of 21 guys. Whether you agree or not, they hear what we say, they feel the losses and triumphs so much more than we do. We are the fans, but this is their life. They live and breathe hockey. The emotional commitment to this game for them is 1000 times more than any fan, parent, or friend. When they miss a key pass, or fail to backcheck at a serious defensive moment, you can bet, they are beating themselves up inside more than we ever could. We're just making it worse, pushing them to lose their momentum, we are failing to be the support they need to want to win. It takes a huge amount of commitment and compromise for these guys to get where they are. They and their families sacrifice every day of their lives so we can have but a few hours of enjoyment a few nights a week. For them, it's not just a few hours, it a way of life. These same guys, get up on their days off, to come out to our community events to lend a hand, make an appearance for our benefit instead of spending the day with their kids, wives, or parents. What do we do in return? We slam them, sometimes to their faces. Honestly, some of the things these guys have to put up with from us, even on a good day, and they have enough self control to not show their disappointment in us as fans.

Being a hockey parent, you learn it's not your place to give your kid the gears about his game after the fact. That's the coaches job. Do we honestly think the coach isn't throwing around a few garbage cans or hockey sticks in the dressing room? Really? Isn't that enough? Do you think that we need to say it too? That they need to be scolded like spoiled little boys in public?

I personally, love these guys and their families for spending what few years of their youth, or as long as their bodies can take the punishment, keeping sports alive in my city. I love them for sacrificing time with their loved ones so I can spend a few hours at a game with mine. Yes, I want them to win. I would love to see our Red Mile with wall to wall Red jersey's celebrating a Stanley Cup win here in Calgary. I also know that unless you are surrounded by people that believe in you, you will have to fight so much harder to be successful. Why would we make it harder for them to win? It's time for us to pick up the slack and support our Calgary Flames. I love these guys, win or lose, because they have given so much to the city that I love. SO, where is your winning spirit Calgary? Give these guys a reason to sacrifice their time for a win. Be the change Calgary.

PS... For anyone who dares to say " they make XXX amount per year so I expect ...." How much is time away from your family worth to you? The commitment to the training, the lack of a private life? , so save it.

Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole

Setting the bar....

When I was a young mother, I was living the Ex-Pat life in the Middle East with my kids. Now keep in mind this was shortly after the Kuwaiti Invasion and right before the Somali conflict ( watch Black Hawk Down, the horrible true story was all over the news for the world to see. RIP to the US Army Rangers and Pilots). I was, if you've been keeping up with my posts, in Qatar during the Royal Coup in 95.

It was during this time I met a senior correspondent for a major wire service. We became friends when he came to cover Princess Diana and Madonna in Qatar for the Qatari Open Tennis Tournament. Boris Becker was the draw that brought HRH, and the Pop Princess to the desert. Many people didn't know this, HRH Diana, Princess of Wales and HRH Charles, Prince of Wales had been gifted a palace in Qatar by Sheik Kalifa on a royal visit many years before. Her visit was shortly after the BBC interview had been taped. The palace was not far from Aladdin's Theme Park, on the other side of Doha from where I lived.

When my news hound friend and I met, he was considerably older than I, attractive, well dressed, and had (still has) a sense of humor that would rival any major comedian in existence today. His infectious naughtiness was something I had grown up around. My high school football buddies talked the same talk, walked with the same swagger, and drank beer like it was water just the same. We seemed to always end up at the same functions with our cameras and stuck in the same corners shooting. We had the same taste in shot angles and height. Made shooting a little complicated at times but it became a running joke between us and a few other in the business. I was still very young and considered a cub in comparison, and not officially anywhere in their field because I was never officially in the country for that purpose. I was still officially a 'stay at home Mom' (even though the place we were living in was no where near anything that resembled a home).

Through the years and miles of his amazing news career, and my gypsy existence with my kids, we lost touch, gained connections, lost them again, and with the lovely invention of Internet and news people in common, we have been in close contact for a few years now. He is still one my greatest mentors in photography and his advice still rings true with the digital as well as the original film I burned through back then.

Through all my years of eeking out a living and just barely making the cut, I never asked him for a favor, hand out, hand up, or names of anyone I could contact to help push my career forward. I was a single parent and my passion was not a money making venture so I did other work to be sure my kids had a warm place to sleep and food to eat. I never asked because I valued the friendship so much, I never wanted him to feel I was his friend for his connections. I never asked because I knew the bitter reality when you open yourself up to someone for friendship and you find out later it was only about who you knew, who you were related to, or how much money you had. I loved hearing about where his assignments were taking him, where he'd been, who he'd met that made an impression on him. I value his humor and forthright opinions and never wanted to lose that. So I never asked.

I recently did an interview with someone so important to the civil rights movement in the 60's, just by chance really, I was so excited I had to share my coup with my much revered mentor. I knew he would understand the feeling of accomplishment. Once I had finally blurted out the chance meeting and resulting 3 hour interview with pictures, he asked to see what I had done. With trepidation, I attached all the images and 5000 word article to the email even though I knew it was some of my greatest work ever. Sitting in front of the glowing screen with my hands poised over the keys, waiting for his response seemed like a lifetime. A few minutes later, my screen popped to life. His words were keyed in capitol letters, screaming off the screen in my face.

"(his real words were much more colorful than this but I'm going to go with OMGOSH!!!!), I had no idea you had this in you, why are you still doing that mindless fluffy quasi-journalistic (poop)?!!! My god kid, if I had know you could do this, I'd had you set up years ago!!!!!" Among his many other epithets were congratulations, well done, brilliant, and then the somber tone was evident in the last sentence. "Why did you never send me this kind of thing before. I could have put you in touch with the right people. I could have gotten you a proper agency, connections, and you'd have been working everywhere?.!"

My response was simple. Other than not wanting to impose on our friendship, I didn't know if what I wrote or my images were any good. I had sent him images before, but usually the ones I had trouble with the exposure, or composition, so he really never did see any of my finished work. What he saw were images of me perfecting my craft and he taught me to be patient and hone my skills with thoughtful small adjustments. He thought I was just this sweet, clever, beautiful barbie in designer clothes with a tomboy attitude. I'd never said out right, "I want this photojournalism life beyond anything else." I never said once my kids were grown that I would be willing to abandon everything cozy, comfortable, and safe, for life of airplanes, deadlines, and living out of a suitcase. It's what I always wanted, but had responsibilities that I couldn't turn away from. With the words and images I sent, I laid bare my soul to this dear friend who never knew I wanted anything other than to photograph pretty parties and socialites playing dress-up. After much discussion and review of other work he'd never seen, he has promised to put me in touch with 'the right people'. There are no guarantees, he claims, but he clearly states that my work is exceptional and needs to be seen.

So my lesson is, ASK. Define my goals. Speak them clearly. You never know what can come of it.

Don't forget to check your Compass!
Cole
PS Can I just take a moment to say, to the US Army Rangers of the 82nd I met while overseas, you know who you are... My eternal gratefulness for all the laughs, tears, support and friendship over the years.
Quis est homo qui non meliorem facere mundum ... venit invenire me ... Ego sum ​​hic.