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This little trophy – while it sure has caused great debate – created very little drama.

All four finalists for The Heisman – and the media and general public – have known for some time that Auburn’s Cam Newton would win this coveted trophy. This despite the fact that many are pretty reluctant to believe that Newton knew nothing about his dad shopping his services to Mississippi State for cash.

The big question is this: can Cam keep the trophy, or will he eventually have to return it in shame, à la Reggie Bush.

My vote? Give it to the Marriott chef. His kitchen killed it with the media buffet!

After speaking last week at the annual Atlanta Photojournalism Seminar, I flew to NYC to photograph some (non-weird) sports, see friends and visit local photo galleries.

When I learned that the Heisman would be held while I was here in NYC, I offered up my talents to The Register-Guard, which has a Duck, er, dog in this race, UO’s LaMichael James.

I had zero allusions of making super compelling images – especially since the media is excluded from the televised ceremony – but I was curious to peak behind the curtain.

Friday offered up two official photo ops: one in a tiny Marriott conference room, the other a drive-by visit to see the Rockefeller Plaza Christmas tree. Joy to the world.

One thing I noticed about Cam: dude’s got a multi-million dollar smile. He had all the members of the media eating whatever he served to them.

To think this man is stupid enough that while at University of Florida, he was caught with a stolen laptop. He also got caught cheating, which forced his hand. He transferred to a juco, and then to Auburn.

That we all make mistakes is a cliché, but it’s also a truism. That there’s a series of bad decision-making hovering around Cam makes his denial regarding knowledge of his father’s $180k solicitation seem doubtful. Seriously, how could he not know anything?

What wasn’t in doubt was that he was this year’s best college player. I caught some of his games on TV. Dude can flat out play.

So can LaMichael James, below, NCAA’s best rusher. Though he, too, has his issues. He was arrested in February for physical abuse in an argument with his GF. And then he was seen in a “borrowed” SUV. Perhaps it’s time to acknowledge college sports is a business, not a pure, educational experience.

The second photo op left me out in the cold, literally. The players were taking a bus tour with their family and swung by Rockefeller Plaza for a quick, awkward photo op. At least Boyd was there to keep me company.

Manhattan has changed so much from when I was a kid. It used to be sketchy and dangerous. You always watched your back and surroundings. Bums were always coming up asking for money. Now, everything feels safe. Nothing to worry about. It’s bizarre.

There was a dude who came up to Boyd (above). He looked pretty weathered, his jacket filthy. He slurred a little and was smoking. Of course, he wasn’t asking for change. He wanted to ask for help using his digital camera. I laughed as Boyd walked him through the settings of his camera.

Everyone is a photographer now. Everyone.

On Saturday, they held a final presser with all four finalists. My challenge was trying to make an appropriate photo of LaMichael, who had no chance of winning. (He finished third.)

I found the scene below a little funny: the only thing those 3 kids would leave with that night would be a souvenir bottle of water. Cam was leaving with the hardware.

And so, we waited in the Marriott for about 3 hours, watching the televised ceremony on ESPN. There was one lone pool photographer shooting the announcement, though there’s a solid chance SI had someone there as well. Afterwards, they shepherded Cam back to us at the hotel.

What’s ironic is that there wasn’t a ton of media here. Yeah, there was plenty, but not a ton. Boyd noticed a pile of uncollected press passes. Papers can’t afford to cover events like they would in the past. Most are relying on wire. Few sent photographers. Sign of the times.

It was an interesting experience, one I’m glad I got to witness. Though shooting a series of press conferences doesn’t fill the soul.

One of the reasons why I wanted to shoot this, aside from being here already, was on the off-chance Cam has to return the trophy. I wanted pix with him holding the trophy. Felt like I was documenting a little piece of history, one that’s not completely written yet.

I nearly coughed up a lung laughing when Cam, in his acceptance speech, thanked his father for “all the things he’s done behind the scenes.”

Wow. Really?

The Cardinal RULES! (Dude.)

CARDINAL RULE: You never, ever know what you’ll find unless you go and see for yourself.

So while shooting cycle, er, cyclocross on Halloween offered me many familiar visuals, I did see something unusual, to say the least.

I spotted these two chain-linked folks at the starting gate, but I didn’t quite realize exactly what they were up to. Hearing loud, prolonged groans later from the peanut gallery at one bend in the course, I just assumed that someone had face-planted in spectacular fashion. But then I bumped into Mike, who had this funny, wicked grin as he described the scene.

People never fail to amaze me. Thank God.

There was some confusion, as the race was halted and folks asked to go back to the starting gate for another go. I thought it must have been because of these two, though cyclocross vets assured me that they wouldn’t stop the race because of the body mods. Of course, they were right. I think someone was injured and that led to confusion. I was able to photograph this couple a couple of times before they walked the rest of the course.

I’m realizing, looking at the rest of this body of work, it blends right in with many of my others: costumed athletics. That it actually happened on Halloween seems unimportant.

For me, this day started slowly.

Deb recently asked me if I like going back to reshoot my weird sports. I know I’ve blogged about this before, but in general, I don’t. I like things I haven’t seen before. Hell, I LOVE things I haven’t seen before. So, despite that Cardinal Rule, I don’t often return to visual gems I’ve covered before. I feel like I know what’s there. I want to use my time and resources to discover things I’ve never heard of.

Of course, that’s totally the wrong attitude. But it’s how I feel. I bore too easily and want more newness*. Mike wrote a great post about staying fresh visually. I should reread this each day with my morning coffee.

(*One huge exception is college football, which I could shoot all the time despite the endless, unimaginative images possible there. I simply like bullshitting with my friends on the sidelines. I miss that.)

I found 3 ladies cheering and dancing on the course hill. Joy had brought a blowup doll. She said she wished she could be in more photos from the PDX Cross crew. I assured her, bring a blowup doll to each race, and she’s guaranteed to get some exposure.

Sure enough, a few minutes later, I spotted Torsten behind me shooting this visual goodness.

One thing that I’ve realized is that it’s OK to question your own program. I really despise the attitude by some photographers (and a few editors) that they dominate the industry, that they simply make magic with every release of the shutter. Such bullshit.

Most photographers I know have some level of doubt. Is the time, money, sweat, tears I put into this photo worth anything? If I ignore something, am I wrong or right?

But again, that’s OK. I think that doubt, at least for me, is a driving force. I can’t do things like other people. I can only be me. My issues and personality direct me on my visual path. Without doubt, there are things I’m missing. But then again, too, what I’m getting is 1,000% me.

Thanks to Rob for the place to crash, hombre. The roundtrip was a quick one, but well worth it. I made a photo that’s in my current book edit. Another reminder not to forget the Cardinal Rule. (Dude.)

Erika Schultz - November 22, 2010 - 8:36 am

Sol, these are great. Congrats on your book!

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Sol - November 22, 2010 - 9:26 am

Thanks, Erika, for checking out my humble blog. Fun(ny) times w/ the upcoming book.

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Cindy Brown - November 28, 2010 - 7:28 pm

Love em! Love em! Crazy wonderful.

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Little Green Monstah

If you build it, yeah, people will come. Who wouldn’t? How many chances you get to step up to the plate at Fenway Park?

Ok, like many XXXL rappers, we should definitely add “Lil’” when describing this whiffle ball field of dreams located in picturesque Vermont.

Little Fenway is the dream of Pat O’Connor, who in 2000, turned his overgrown backyard into an overly fun ball yard. He matched the scale and paint color of the original Fenway. Only thing really missing were drunk bleacher bums, with “missing” in quotes.

Three years ago, Pat’s dream grew into the adjacent Little Wrigley, which is based downhill from Fenway. It’s a little surreal to walk from one park to the next, but that’s what I live for: surreal sports.

Pat and his wife often host charity events at their ballparks. One of them was happening the same weekend as the Mud Bowl in neighboring New Hampshire. When stars align like that, I don’t ask questions, I go. SFD™.

The energy for the tournament was fun, wonderful, whimsical and pure. Watching players whiff at balls, hit line drives against – and over – the faux Green Monster, fall into a home run trot, it was all pretty cool.

An interesting challenge this day was coming up with different ways of including the ballpark in the frame, to show the scale of this game.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wear a red vest, or be stuck in a photo well. I could roam the field and shoot behind the batter, as if it were the old days when baseball photographers shot Ruth and Dimaggio along the base path with wide lenses.

With plastic bats, the slow-motion whiffle ball and my cat-like reflexes, I didn’t have to worry much about my personal safety.

Thanks to everyone there for being so cool and welcoming. Made the cross country trip a, um, grand slam.