But there was still hope, still a chance to go out with a bang, a chance at our own redemption by heaping another helping of heartache on the beleaguered Penn State football program.

I zig-zagged my way through the western campus, looking for something different to take a picture of, but I didn’t really see anything that caught my eye. The block O kids getting painted were on my mind, and I didn’t want to miss them. I headed to the ‘Shoe.

I timed my arrival perfectly for my memory of how things worked, but I was early for how things really work, so I hung out for a while, waiting for the students to show. They eventually trickled in for their turn under paint.

Cooold.

Watching the cold paint hit skin for the first time was pretty funny. The victim would tense, their face a mask of stone, as if afraid to betray how cold it was.

Face.

This is fun!

Statue.

Patience.

The countdown began, and parents began to gather on the field. I set up for senior day.

Senior day has to be bittersweet for most of them this year. Some of their careers are well documented, some of them not documented at all. Every year a handful of seniors make their way across the field to polite applause, while 100,000 fans turn to their neighbor and quietly ask “who?”

And for others, deafening applause, a show of appreciation for a career well done.

But this year a season temporarily interrupted would be resumed in what should have been the twilight of a glorious career. I was perhaps morbidly curious how that player would be greeted.

The band lined up, the team thundered out, and the seniors gathered in a knot not far from where I stood. Their names were slowly read off and they raced across the field to join their teammates.

He was spitting out tiny rubber pellets for the rest of the game.

I saw the player in question, perhaps one of the best in Ohio State history, a career pock-marked with controversy. He knelt and kissed the turf. When his name was introduced, the crowd roared.

I was surprised, and pleased with the fan’s loyalty. Here was a player who was a symbol and cause of the problems and disappointment of the season, and he was greeted like a hero. If only we could all forgive and forget like Ohio State fans. Or at least the ones cheering for DeVier Posey.

The game began with its usual shenanigans, Ohio State falling behind almost immediately. Oh well, I thought. We can come back on these guys. Penn State isn’t any good.

Ill omen.

Squeeeeeeze.

And thank you, Block O.

Guess we missed him.

Into the end zone.

Pleased.

Stoneburner and his soft hands.

Effective and amusing.

Honor.

We salute you, Dr. Woods.

I found out Friday that Marching Band Director Dr. Jon Woods would be dotting the I during Script Ohio at half time, in honor of his years of service at Ohio State. My assignment was to get him dotting the I. A team of us would document the event for the University and the Association.

I set up on the visitors’ sideline, to assure the clearest possible view of the dotting. A teammate would be on the home sidelines, another in a box above the stadium. We would have it covered.

The moment approached. Dr. Woods and his escorts, sousaphonist Jon Lampley and drum major Jason Stuckart made their way toward the hallowed spot. Out of my corner of my eye I spotted the Penn State punter.

Dr. Woods marched the last few steps on his own. He turned toward the south, he turned toward the big white blob.

The punter blocked my shot as he ran onto the field. In that tiny second I wished that Beaver Stadium would collapse, Mount Nittany would crumble and Penn State football would founder on the rocks of obscurity for perpetuity.

Stopping power.

The second quarter began with me still quivering with rage. The soft spot I had for Penn State, a result of it being the spot of my first road OSU game and most the common opponent I had seen, had vanished.

I focused on the matter at hand. The two teams continued to commit crimes against football. The Buckeyes passion for big hits came at a cost of missed tackles. Penn State’s passion for odd play calling resulted in a goal line stand that could have been they play(s) of the game, but instead are just a footnote at the end of a long sad tale.

Up and away!

Not this time.

As time ran out, I pondered the possibility of another miracle, but it felt like Ohio State’s miracles were all used up. Sure enough, Braxton ran to his right and looked down field and threw up a hope as time ran out. It came down as a busted dream.

So long.

The Lions rushed the field, the media rushed the field, and I made my way down the sidelines for one last Carmen.  The team aligned so I had a picture of Boom looking like his dog died and Fick looking resigned.

Hallowed ground.

Saturday home.

I made my way out of the stadium. I stopped and looked back at the stadium for the last time this season, maybe even forever (never take anything for granted, after all) and thought it would make a nice picture.

If I could find a spot that didn’t prominently feature a porta-potty.

As I walked across the Olentangy, I looked back at the stadium and its environs reflecting the the rippled waters, and set my camera on the rail for another shot. And I realized that I was sad to see the season end. I don’t know what will happen next week, or during the off season, but it was a heck of a ride, and I’m sorry to see it end.

Go Bucks.

Now you can;

Check out a photo gallery of Saturday’s game.

Join the OSUAA.

or you could become an OSUAA fan on Facebook.

You could like me, because who doesn’t like a liking?

You can keep up with my photographic musings by following me on Twitter; @crookphoto

And the OSUAA, too @OhioStateAlumni

Problem is, I got there too early. At 8:30, there was barely a presence in the Longaberger lot* and the last thing I wanted to do was show prime tailgating real estate empty.

* I know it is called something else, but it will always be the lot outside the Longaberger Alumni House to me.

I piddled around for a while (re: took a nap) and at 10 on the dot I started my journey through tailgate land.

Cornhole with a view.

Ohio State’s campus is a vast paradise on Saturday mornings, and making my way through as many lots as I could took a lot longer than I thought it would. I had to explain myself a lot, since I would go stick my snout in people’s tailgates and take a bunch of pictures, so I didn’t get quite as far as I wanted to. Indeed, as game time drew closer, the tailgates began to get kind of sparse.

There is a short window of prime tailgating time, about an hour and a half or so. By the time I got to Woody Hayes, it was time to head to the stadium.

It was my latest arrival ever, and by the time I was down below the north stands, I could hear the band’s arrival on the field, accompanied by thunderous applause.

Cym-bolic

I got out as the band was finishing up before the national anthem, and made my way down the Buckeye’s sideline toward the Indiana band, who was watching the OSU band perform. As they concluded, I asked an Indiana band member what grade they gave them.

“They are the best”, he said. “They don’t call them the best band for nothing. They are here,” he said, holding his hand at eye level, “and everyone else is here,” he motioned, holding his other hand at chest level. It was pretty cool. They were honestly and clearly impressed.

So the Buckeyes take the field, and Indiana promptly drives down the field for a touchdown. That was unexpected.

And then they went a kicked a field goal. Indiana 10, Ohio State 7.

Celebrate!

I was in the north end zone, setting up to do a panorama, when Braxton Miller took the snap and hauled arse 81 yards down the field for a touchdown. Perfect timing. You can see the band going crazy in the panorama though.

Feeling super happy fun time about missing Braxton’s run, despite the fact that it was coming out of the sun and wouldn’t look that great anyway, I went to the other end when the Buckeyes got an Indiana punt.

Pre-punch.

Miller appeared to be in trouble when he spotted Boren open and tossed him the ball. Boren rumbled along or a few yards, and an on-coming defender closed in on it, Boren punched him.

Well, not really punched him, but threw a rapid stiff arm. It didn’t quite work, as the defend, while flying through the air as a result of Zach’s flying stiff arm, managed to grab his foot and pull him down. I was giggling on the sidelines, but no one seemed to notice his flying whack. He was heading away from me, so the picture isn’t any good either.

The drive ended with a field goal, as did the next, and the ship was righted.

Until Indiana tied it. The first half of Saturday’s game was played in an alternate universe when Indiana is a perennial Big 10 contender.

The chase.

Things began to improve in the third quarter, especially since the Buckeyes would be heading into the sun again.

Team hug.

Stopped.

I plunked myself down in front of the band, next to an old friend, and we watched the ebb and flow of the game from there. We were in a fine spot for Indiana’s perhaps ill advised interception (do you really want the ball on your three against Ohio State?).

Elude and conquer.

Diving down.

Goooooo Bucks!

Steppin’ out. Of a tackle.

Cashing in.

The third quarter was kind to photographers in the south end zone, with Boom and Braxton scoring. Boom dove, and Braxton skipped, and the Buckeyes were cruising. Apart from what whole giving up touchdowns thing.

When the fourth quarter came, we all picked up and marched down to the north end zone. Someone was eventually going to win this game, and the north end zone seemed to be the best place to photograph it, if the Buckeyes managed to pull this one out.

Hyde glide for almost six.

The Buckeyes were a long way from my corner of the end zone when Carlos Hyde burst through a hole in came charging toward me. I switched cameras just in time to get him stepping out of bounds, and then leaping toward the end zone. I had thought he scored, but on further review (of my camera back) he was out at the something yard line.

And a few plays later, he scored. This time, I was blocked by ref butt.

The previously passive defense began to stiffen, stopping Indiana on downs and sealing the game with some big sacks and tackles for loss. A game that at the dawn of the fourth quarter had been a nail biter, had been salted away.

Crisis averted.

Now you can;

Check out a photo gallery of Saturday’s game.

Join the OSUAA.

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And the OSUAA, too @OhioStateAlumni

After getting bossy and ordering people around for a group photo of the court, we all piled on buses for the trip to the Skull Session, where the court would be introduced.

The Skull Session was rowdy and loud as the team breezed though, stopping just long enough for a player to make a short speech, Fickell to make a shorter one, and then went streaming out.

After the Skull Session, we all marched over to the stadium in a drizzle.

The team that is prepared…

My companions were having a great time, and I took a of pictures of people posing with the field in the background (plus a few more two-time Heisman poses). People were so hyped to be down there, which made me remember how cool it is that I am down there every other week or so, something photographers should never take for granted. Even if they don’t care about football, being down there is undeniably interesting, at the very least.

A moment to remember.

The royal hug.

Love from Brutus.

The appointed hour came, and the band stormed onto the field. The court took their places, 10 yards apart along most of the sideline. My people from The Association introduced the court, and the clock counted down to immortality.

My heart began to tick a little faster. I knew who was going to be crowned, but that still doesn’t make it easy, per say, to get a picture. Everyone needs to turn the right direction, and everyone needs to stay put so that no one gets in anybody else’s way.

And then I saw Brutus. And as the king and queen began melting at midfield, I heard his handler say “get out there,” and off he went.

I love Brutus as much as the next guy, but the last thing I needed was his oversized head in my viewfinder at this exact second. But the tides parted, and I got my shots.

And then a sigh of relief. I could devote my attention to football, which is more forgiving than tight deadline portraiture, since it is not like the Buckeyes weren’t going to send Boom Heron up the middle again, right?

The game had begun by the time I got myself geared up in the photo dungeon under the south stands, and I took my spot on the Buckeyes sideline and got to work.

For want of a tackle, six points were lost.

Ohio State didn’t go much with their first shot at the ball, and neither did Wisconsin. But the second time around, I was squatting along the sideline when a big ol’ Badger pulled in a pass behind a blur of diving scarlet. Milliseconds later, another blur, this time a missed tackle, and the Badgers were on the board.

Curses.

Fire away.

Reverse course.

More back and forth, and more waiting for the other shoe to fall. Not much seemed to be going my way, but at the same time, not much seemed to be happening. Punts, stalled drives, and unbending defenses added up to a field goal for the Buckeyes. Half time came, and I went in search of an I-dotter.

Saturday, the Ohio State University Marching Band celebrated the 75th anniversary of the first i-dotting, which was against Wisconsin, well, 75 years ago.

I was in search of an early i-dotter. I couldn’t quite hear (or understand, at least) what the announcer was talking about, so I took some pictures of some likely candidates.

I had noticed some black boxes on tarps on the edge of the field, so I figured the band would be blowing something up. And they did, and it startled me, despite the fact that I was expecting it.

Every Saturday, the band has a half time theme, and this time it was James Bond. They went through a few theme songs, and then I saw a band member heading onto the field with a fire extinguisher. Aha! I thought, they must be getting ready to blow something up.

Fumigating for Badgers.

The extinguishaphonist then proceeded to spray the contents of the extinguisher. Startled, I looked up at the video board, and saw the band had formed the outline of a car, and the extinguisher was the exhaust. Or they were honoring Ohio’s mosquito control efforts.

Must be someone important.

After the James Bond action, I went around to the other side of the field to get the 75th anniversary i-dotter. I forgot that Eddie George was to be honored at half. I wasn’t too bothered though, as the spectacle from behind was pretty funny too, a long line of photographers lining up for a shot at George and Archie.

Halftime thus disposed of, it was time to see what the Buckeyes were going to do with themselves in the second half.

So close.

I was sitting with my back to the band when Boom came tear-as*ing down the field with a huge run. He followed that up with another that looked like it would end with some points, but he was knocked out of bounds short of the goal line.

Somewhere in there is a squished running back.

The Buckeyes proceeded to try and pound running backs into the mammoth Wisconsin line, proceeding to budge them not one inch. A colleague leaned over to me and said “good. now maybe they can run something this way.”

On the stroll.

They didn’t. The Hope ducked a tackle to the right, and sauntered into the end zone. Really. He just kind of strolled, ambled even. But it put the Bucs up 10-7, and brought the stadium back to life.

You were this open!

They were back at it again, moments later, after a blocked punt. And despite it being right in front of me, I messed up the shot. I hoped it wouldn’t be the play of the game. While you can get lots of pictures of Boom running into a pile of defenders, Plays of the Game are rare birds indeed. Especially this season.

Familiar scene.

And before I knew it, J-Hall was diving into the end zone right in front of me. Snazzy.

Who’s number one?

As he got to his feet, as he was mobbed by his teammates, he pointed a finger skyward. Whether a tribute to the Almighty or an optimistic ranking for the Buckeyes, I do not know.

Heavy load.

Its only illegal if someone sees.

Just, ouch.

The Buckeyes and Badgers knocked each other around for a while, after Wisconsin drew nearer with a touchdown at the end of the third quarter.

Well pleased.

I was sitting about 10 yards out of the end zone when Miller went streaking down the sideline and into the end zone. Despite it being all the way across the field, I could see his smile when Devin Miller came calling for his high five.

And then the heartbreak began to hit the fan. Set up to shoot some behind the lines defensive action, I watched as the Badgers began to get further and further away. After a touchdown made it too close for comfort, again I set up for the big sack shot, and again they drew further and further away. The silence after Wisconsin pulled ahead was broken only by a sideline attendant swearing behind me.

I began to rewrite the headlines in my head.

Out of the grasp.

Catch of a lifetime.

I can’t say that I thought Ohio State would win. I didn’t feel the same iron-clad optimism I felt after Michigan State took the lead weeks ago, nor the absolute confidence I felt in Lincoln that they couldn’t come back against Nebraska. But I didn’t feel like it was impossible, and that was enough. It had been two weeks since I had seen them play, after all.

I lingered in more or less the same spot as I had for most of the fourth quarter, about 10 yards out of the end zone, more or less, on the Wisconsin sideline. I saw Hall come racing toward midfield, but fall short of a 6-point kick off return. I saw Boom squeeze out a few yards for a clock-stopping first down. And I saw Braxton Miller roam to his right, and saw his eyes catch a target down field. I saw him leap in the air and hurl the ball north.

And I saw the ball come down into the breadbasket of a leaping Devin Smith.

And I heard the world explode.

Future champions.

I tried to record the sound of 105,000 people losing their minds, but the meter on my sound recorder pegged, and the recording just sounded like a headache. Wisconsin threatened to tear the heart out of Buckeye Nation, but the defense swarmed, and disaster was averted, and all hell broke loose.

A moment alone.

Hero. For now.

Without H, this is just hands.

I was there too.

A moment to never forget.

I’ve never been good in the scrum, but I made my way into the happy throng, working my way around the edges until I was enveloped in happy Buckeye fans, all of whom were taller than me. I found myself behind the Carmen line, and held my camera aloft, snapping away as I moved through O H I O, taking part in my first ever Carmen.

I finally got through the crowd, and worked my way into the photo dungeon. I collected myself and my stuff as I waited for the crowd to thin. When I emerged, I saw an older fellow sitting by himself, just looking out over the field. I approached, and ask him if he was just taking it all in.

“I don’t want to move, because I don’t want them to take this away. I don’t want to wake up and find out this never happened.”

I was still smiling when I woke up Sunday morning.

Now you can;

Check out a photo gallery of Saturday’s game.

Join the OSUAA.

or you could become an OSUAA fan on Facebook.

You could like me, because who doesn’t like a liking?

You can keep up with my photographic musings by following me on Twitter; @crookphoto

And the OSUAA, too @OhioStateAlumni

That said, it took a long and rather profane tirade and some beer to get me to a the point where I could look at it from a more balanced perspective.

By the time I got out of the Buckeye Bash in downtown Lincoln, it was closing in on game time. I made my way onto campus, weaving through a throng of Husker fans, who were generally milling around amiably. The band was on a grassy knoll, and in the concrete canyon surrounding the art museum, a majorette practiced with her baton. I was following a costumed Buckeye fan when I heard my first disparaging words about Ohio State. It was uttered by a college kid, so it didn’t really bother me, because everyone knows college kids are perhaps a bit less filtered than someone with a little more experience in their bones.

I found my way to the stadium and wandering around trying to guess which gate I was supposed to go to. I knew it was on the west side of the stadium, but I wasn’t sure which side was the west side, since the sun had disappeared, and it looked like the long-threatened rain was at last going to come. I finally found what I suspected was the right gate and tried to gain entrance.

Without going into the machinations of the whole ordeal, security at Nebraska’s Memorial Stadium is super nice, to the point that I thought I was going to be victim of a practical joke.

After getting myself in order, I strapped on my gear and donned an 88 cent Wal-Mart special rain poncho and waddled out onto the field, look all the world, I suspect, like a man dressed as a sandwich bag.

There are rules for photographers and sidelines types at Nebraska’s stadium, as is the case everywhere. They have a special twist at Memorial Stadium though, because the North end zone is off limits, because mole people live there.

Not really, but there are a bunch of seats a little below ground level, and people watch the game from there, protected from the game (or maybe the other way around) by some red chain link fence. So they watch the game while appearing to be trapped in a cave.

At the other end, an open area under the stands looks like a large luxury box, complete with pads to protect players diving for a too-long touchdown pass. It is that close to the field. The photographers are expected to kneel down in front of them when they are positioned there.

Which is what I found myself doing before the game, hoping for a picture of the Buckeyes taking the field. Turns out tt wasn’t the spot for the shot I wanted, but I did get to chat with a fellow in the luxury box. Larry the Cable Guy walked past too.

All along the sidelines are two lines, as opposed to Ohio State’s one. One of the lines is dashed, behind which people are expected to kneel. Behind is the stand line. It is a wonderful system, because hangers-on and famous people can stand there are be seen, or, in extreme cases, watch the game, while photographers etc can kneel in front of them.

So I found myself kneeling in the south end zone, hanging out and waiting. The Nebraska band came out and did their thing, and a group of Air Force A10s did a flyover.

Flyover

I was wondering how Ohio State would be received. Of course the Huskers got a deafening welcome, but Ohio State’s arrival appeared to go unnoticed. Not like the half-hearted boos OSU fans muster for the likes of Akron and Colorado, not really much of anything. I was really hoping to record the sound, but there wasn’t much to record.

The arrival.

Flagging.

So Nebraska comes storming onto the field, and the place goes nuts. As soon as the a guy waving a big flag settles down, the Husker-Power chant starts. One side of the stadium yells Husker, the other side Power, and they go back an forth for a while. It is pretty cool to listen to.

Kilted corn.

Looking around, I saw some kids in kilts with corn cobs on their heads. Brutus walked past a few seconds later, and thus summed up the beauty of college football. Pure passion, silly traditions and epic cheers. I could spend my life (weekends, at least) going to different places just to see the different traditions.

Pulley.

The game started, and before I knew what hit me, I was watching Braxton Miller not carrying the ball. What the deuce? I thought, who has the ball? I jerked the camera over to J-Hall, who was sauntering up the field unmolested. He didn’t have the ball either. Stuck my head up and caught a glimpse of Stoneburner running away from someone. Found him through the view finder just as he disappeared behind the ref. I listened for the crowd to react when he was tackled, and suddenly he thundered past me and flipped into the end zone. I whipped my second camera up and it got caught on my sandwich bag, resulting in a picture of his butt as he dove through the air.

Dadgummit. Oh well, I thought. At least Ohio State scored a touchdown. (At least we won’t lose xx-10.)

Husker hospitality.

Our hero and leader.

Slippery.

Rain down, Balloons up.

Things went swimmingly for a while. Nebraska scored and fans released balloons. They streamed upward as I struggled to change lenses. Still, Ohio State had a nice lead, and I felt the warm breath of optimism returning.

Buckeye Power.

It takes two.

Corn dusted.

The rain started up again, harder than before, and I struggled to adjust myself so my camera was under my poncho. I got tangled, and I felt hands on me as I struggled to get my head through the head hole. A pair of security guys pulled the poncho down and adjusted it for me. A fellow Ohio photog laughed and made fun of me as they put the hood over my head. Carlos Hyde stormed into my view finder on his way to a touchdown. All was well with the world.

Moosh.

Deep neck bends.

Group hug.

Pleasing.

I saw the defense pressure Nebraska quarterback Taylor Martinez, and Martinez hoisted a ball downfield. The only person nearby was OSU DB Orhian Johnson. He did his duty. Memorial Stadium was quiet.

Flipped.

Would have been big.

Reel it in.

I don’t know who he is, but he is awesome.

As I crouched in a dark corner of the end zone after switching sides, I pulled out the fisheye to do a panorama of the scene. The Bucks had the ball, and were driving. As they pulled away, I headed to the other end. I scarcely noticed a fallen Buckeye.

Oh.

I kneeled down and positioned myself to shoot whatever happened after the fallen Buck was resurrected. I glanced downfield, and saw the number 5. A dagger pierced my heart.

Hope #5 was laying there, and not getting up.

The photographer in me merely noted that it would be a different game from here on out. The fan in me alternatively vacillated between horror and morbid curiosity. Surely they would bring out Guiton, right?

.Doesn’t everyone bleed red?

Face.

The Buckeyes fumbled along for a while, allowing the Huskers to draw closer. Surely the defense, despite being less rested between drives, would stiffen and hold off the charging Nebraskans.

Around this time I started to swear.

I was downfield, positioned for the salt-it-away touchdown when Bauserman heaved a long pass down field. I aimed at the intended receiver, and watched through a flickering viewfinder as a streak of red pulled in the pass.

And that was that. Nebraska pulled ahead with about five minutes left in the game, and never once during those following five minutes did I think the Buckeyes were going to pull it out and get a little road trip redemption. A week before, against Michigan State, I played scenarios in my head on ways they could win or tie with five seconds left. This week, they were doomed from the moment Stanley Jean-Baptiste pulled in that errant pass.

That’s how I feel too.

Feeling kind of pouty, I sat in the end zone as Ohio State flopped around like a fish out of water and listened as the fans got louder and louder and louder. The roar at the victory formation was deafening.

Next man up.

Next time.

I waited to see if OSU would in some way acknowledge the crowd, maybe do Carmen or something. A shot of a Fickel would have been ok too. Instead I saw a line of dejected Buckeyes stream past, Guiton mingling anonymously as he walked past the Nebraska fans politely applauding the Buckeyes. Miller walked past, head down and disappeared into the darkness under the stands.

Now you can;

Check out a photo gallery of Saturday’s game.

Join the OSUAA.

or you could become an OSUAA fan on Facebook.

You could like me, because who doesn’t like a liking?

You can keep up with my photographic musings by following me on Twitter; @crookphoto

And the OSUAA, too @OhioStateAlumni

Thank you for reading. I was proud to represent the OSUAA on the road last weekend. And props to my new friends in Nebraska. (just wait ’til next year…)

A lot had changed in a few months.

While my colleagues for the weekend were setting up the Buckeye Bash at the Rococo Theatre downtown, I ventured out into Lincoln to see if I could find some fellow Buckeyes. I wound through the leafy and attractive NU campus and past the towering stadium,  3/4 the size of Ohio Stadium, but still an impressive facility. Past the stadium, a parking lot held a few Nebraska tailgates, and then a footbridge crossed over some railroad tracks and into a neighborhood.

On the other side was another planet. Tailgates were set up on lawns, in convenience store parking lots, garages and back alleys. Every house had a big red N on it somewhere, and it smelled delicious. I ventured down an alley, lured by what looked like an Ohio State tailgate. But I was deceived, the Huskers’ red looking for all the world like OSU’s scarlet. I would see someone approaching and be ready to blurt out “O-H!” when I would spot an N on the front of the jersey.

It is hard to know your enemy when they wear the same colors.

But I soon discovered that Nebraskans aren’t much of an enemy. Every where I went, people said hello and offered a welcome. I began to feel a preemptive guilt over how they will most likely be treated when they get to Columbus.

So I ventured on, deeper into Lincoln, not lingering too long as to avoid becoming entangled in a friendly tailgate full of similarly colored fans to the ones I sought. I was on a deadline, I had to get back to shoot the Buckeye Bash. Finally, I came to a large dirt lot, and stood on an embankment trying to pick out a spot of scarlet in a sea of red. I was chatting with a guy who I guess must have been a security guard when some Nebraska fans spotted my cameras. They beckoned. I went.

A while later, after promising to send the resulting picture they won’t remember me taking, but armed with directions to the baseball stadium, I set out again, cutting through a neighborhood adorned with big red Ns.

Finally, from under an overpass, I spotted the familiar Block O fluttering in the constant Nebraska breeze. I had found my fans.

Representin’

So I hung out with some fellow Buckeyes for a while, in more familiar confines, a big-arse parking lot. Their neighbor Nebraska fans were all friendly and inviting, and I found myself on the roof of a double-decker-homemade-bus-thingy that was blasting hip hop, pointing my camera toward a tent that held a casket that had been converted into a cooler and kegerator.

It was getting time to get back, since I wasn’t really sure how far I had strayed from home base, the Rococo. Back over the railroad tracks on a different bridge toward the stadium, with was now across an Interstate. As I glanced downward as I crossed the bridge, I saw a lot similar to the one that is in front of the ‘Shoe- lots of tents, lots of money. I lingered, partly because it would have been cool to take a picture of a train passing the party. Then I spotted a single Buckeye, visible only by the name on the back of his shirt, a real-life Where’s Waldo.

One in every crowd.

After spotting my needle in a haystack, I headed back toward downtown, as best I could. None of the roads seemed to be the one I wanted, so I kept heading what I guess must have been west. The crowed began to thicken, and suddenly I found myself at a gas station with a full fledged tailgate in the parking lot. I had to investigate.

Full service tailgate.

The people under the tent next to the garage doors were typical Nebraska fans. They tried to feed me, gave me something to drink (and tried to give me something stronger) and invited me in. I couldn’t linger, so I climbed into the back of their truck and took a picture.

Recognizing the area, I thanked the gas station crowd and headed toward the Rococo.

The bash was a lot of fun, rubbing elbows with some devoted fans and famous faces. E. G. Gee came and told some jokes that he thought were funny, and Archie Griffin signed autographs and posed for pictures. The cheerleaders came, Brutus ran amok and a good time was had by all.

And then it was time to find out what the Buckeyes were made of. I headed toward the stadium.

Tune in tomorrow for the second installment. Until then, you can;

Check out a photo gallery of Saturday’s game.

Join the OSUAA.

or you could become an OSUAA fan on Facebook.

You could like me, because who doesn’t like a liking?

You can keep up with my photographic musings by following me on Twitter; @crookphoto

And the OSUAA, too @OhioStateAlumni

I donned my rain gear, strapped on my various pouches and bags, placed a couple cameras around my neck, and hit the parking lots along Olentangy. It didn’t really register that my rain gear was green from head to toe until I saw a group of Spartans fans walking through the lot. Great. I wear 10-year-old rain gear for the second time at a Buckeye game, and it happens to be a Michigan State game.

Hang on Brutus.

Kindred Spirits

There was a good crowd, considering the chill and occasional side-ways falling rain. Tailgate tents had been transformed into huts, and lines of them formed canyons between them in the lots near the Schott.

A trio of fellows sat at a table enjoying a morning meal away from the hubbub of a larger gathering. I told them where I was from, and they told me the company they owned printed the Association’s magazine for 50 years before they sold it. I grew up in a printing family, so we swapped printing tales for a while.

Tailgate central.

I wandered toward the stadium after a trip through the RV lot, where the trailgating was going on hot and heavy. I still had plenty of time before the game, so I walked through the high roller lot. A single flag visible atop the parking garage stopped me. How would the conditions be up there, exposed on the roof in the wind and sometimes rain?

I made my way across the lot, taking the long way, because with my belt packs, backpack and a monopod sticking out out of my straps I had a pretty wide profile, and I didn’t want to gore anyone with the blunt end of a monopod. Or put a scrape along the side of a Lexus, for that matter.

After elevatoring to the top, I found the top level more or less empty. But I discovered that each floor’s landing had a tailgate tucked into it. Neither snow nor rain stays these fans from the swift completion of their appointed tailgates. The dedication pleased me.

Cozy.

The resulting pictures less so. Such is life.

In the photo dungeon a while later, we all milled around toying with the question of how much rain gear we were going to need. A check of the radar showed nothing coming our way, so those of us with rain pants began to put them on, and cameras were sealed into expensive raincoats. As the clock wound toward kickoff, the photographers began to trickle out into the gloom of a rainy Ohio October Saturday.

All eyes on…

Here they come.

The band was its usual spectacular self, and I was feeling good when the kickoff sailed through the air.

For want of a broken tackle.

Hope tackled.

Flip.

The good feelings lasted right up until MSU scored a touchdown halfway through the first. They marched down field and that was that.

Illusion of space.

The rain came and went, but the wind stayed. As the game wore on, the seeds of doubt began to grow. Are they really this bad? Maybe Michigan State is pretty good? I never lost hope, but that hope began to infect how I shot.

Click above to watch the horror unfold even larger!

Covering the Buckeyes for the Association is different from covering it for a news organization. I concentrate on the Buckeyes, and as the game wore on, I gave up running up and down the field and set up for a big play, staying well down the field of the Buckeyes so I could get a long touchdown pass, which seemed to be the only way they were going to score after a while. So I traded shots of running backs for a hoped-for shot of a wide receiver. You could tell it was going to be a low-scoring game until someone uncorked a long pass for a touchdown, or at least to set one up.

And I nearly got that long pass. So did Devin Smith. In an improbable series of events, Smith went up for a catch and Michigan State safety Darqueze Dennard came down with it. That was the big play they needed. And it just didn’t pan out.

Gotcha.

An almost escape.

We all like him except for one game a season.

Ohpleaseohpleaseohplease.

Again?

Halftime morphed into the second half, and things didn’t improve. Fans began to trickle to the door. The rain had stopped, but it was still cold. And an unsettling feeling began to sink it.

Are the Buckeyes just not very good? It can’t be that.

Please do something good to justify my hope!

Too little, too late.

Let us dance in celebration of not being totally humiliated!

Still I had hope. As the clocked counted down to the unimaginable, I still had hope. Down by only two scores, surely things would click and they would shock the Spartans, who have a bit of a history of being shocked anyway.

The hope was but the tiniest flicker when freshman Even Spencer raced into the end zone. An onside kick, one decent pass and a long field goal and we are going to overtime. We can do it! It might end up being the longest overtime in history, but darn it, we still have a chance.

Shucks.

It wasn’t to be. As I watched the Spartans leave the field, I saw a single Buckeye fan watching them leave. The look on her face, a mix of resignation and disgust, mirrored my feelings perfectly.

Oh well. It just sets up an even bigger upset against Nebraska. Hope springs eternal.

Now you can;

Check out a photo gallery of Saturday’s game.

Join the OSUAA.

or you could become an OSUAA fan on Facebook.

You could like me, because who doesn’t like a liking?

You can keep up with my photographic musings by following me on Twitter; @crookphoto

And the OSUAA, too @OhioStateAlumni

My part of the project of awesomeness I wrote about last week.

Football is the most visible and immediate way for Ohio State fans to connect with the university. But my Saturday morning assignment added a bit of perspective, especially after a rough week for Buckeye Nation.

Every fall, the Alumni Association hosts the Ohio State Advocates Fall Event, where basically the OSU Advocates (a bit like OSU’s lobbying group) get together to listen to various speakers talk about the goings on at Ohio State. And Saturday morning, Ohio State President E. Gordon Gee stood on stage in the Ohio Union and said that someone from Ohio State would cure cancer

Kind of puts football in its place as a beautiful diversion.

But you can bet your bottom dollar that I was looking forward to Saturday afternoon though. The idea of a University that could find a cure for cancer and win a football title is a heady mix.

So after the inspiring words from various speakers outlining the birth of the new cancer center, I crossed the campus and headed down toward the ‘Shoe. I have only been in center campus a few times, and it is always inspiring. After the morning’s adventures, I wanted to find a laboratory and go figure something out.

But Ohio Stadium was a welcome site, reflected in the shiny windows of the Recreation & Physical Activity Center. The crowd didn’t seem quite as thick as previous games this season.

It was perfect weather for football, cool but not cold, and sunny. 3:30 starts add an extra bit of challenge to shooting a game, as the shadows begin to creep almost at kickoff- and the extra 15 minutes ABC added because the early game went late didn’t help either. By half time, most of the field is in shadow, while the stands are still in the sun. Backlit players and blown out stands aren’t really optimal, but I am a sucker for a sunlit player with a dark background should the opportunity arise.

In the photo dungeon under the south end zone, Chip the Buffalo (get it? get it? nyuk nyuk nyuk) was getting suited up. Some cheerleaders were watching with what looked like admiration in their eyes.

Suiting up.

Maybe hanging around a big-headed nut that runs around punching itself in the head loses its appeal after a while. I don’t have to hang around with him very much, so I don’t know.

Good thing Brutus wasn’t around.

We do indeed.

So I marched out onto the field, eventually ending up in the north end zone to watch the team run across the field behind the cheerleaders. I looked up at the north Block O and it took me a second to figure out what the front row was spelling out. Normally there is at least on B in there somewhere. I probably looked a little slow spelling out “We Have Gee!” to anyone who noticed.

Don’t screw up on three!

After my hooked on phonics adventure at the other end, I wandered down to the south end zone. I don’t know what compelled me to, but as the pregame clock wound down I saw the refs huddle at midfield and do one of those circle things athletes do in the huddle.

Not a whole lot happened the first two possessions, and I found myself a bit stuck, too close to the benches, where miscellaneous people spread out from the bench area itself and spill into areas directly in front of people trying to photograph the game. So it is an area best avoided. I found myself stuck there, either through inattention or brilliant planning. I was actually photographing Colorado’s pathetic attempt a offense and stuck around to see if someone would block a punt.

Airborn.

Now you can;

Check out a photo gallery of Saturday’s game.

Join the  OSUAA.

or you could become an OSUAA fan on Facebook.

You could like me, because who doesn’t like a liking?

You can keep up with my photographic musings by following me on Twitter; @crookphoto

And the OSUAA, too @OhioStateAlumni

What the what?

Seriously, Toledo is a fine team, and the cream of the Mid-American Conference. But that is still only a step above the little sisters of the disadvantaged. Maybe two.

You know when Chris Berman of ESPN fame starts blathering on about “rumbling, bumbling, stumbling” during a highlight? That was Ohio State damn near all day long. Things for click for a little while, but then they would sort of dry heave their way through a few series and the whole thing would go arse over teakettle.

Learning curve, I guess.

It was a beautiful day at the ‘Shoe though. The morning dawned clear and cool, and I wandered the outer campus region early, working on a specific project of awesomeness for The Association.

That same project found me in front of Ohio Stadium about an hour and a half before the game, in search of a very specific picture; four people going O-H-I-O with the stadium in the background.

I saw that happening seemingly every two minutes* while I was waiting for the band last week, so I figured it wouldn’t take too long to find it this week.

*not really. but enough that I remembered it happening a few times.

I was wrong. Kind of. I like people watching, but if I need a picture of something, I much prefer to watch them doing the thing I need a picture of. So I stood/slouched/wandered around in front of the grand entrance to Ohio Stadium, waiting for someone to do that most Buckeye* of all gestures.

Waited. And waited. I checked my phone. It had been five minutes.

O-H-I-O proud.

A few minutes later, I spotted a likely group and took their picture having their picture taken doing the O-H-I-O.

Seconds after the group left, a young couple (or maybe not, who knows) came up and asked if I took pictures for money and put them on a website. I told them no, that I worked for The Association. They seemed disappointed, so I told them I would take their picture and send it to them. They seemed very pleased by this, so I did.

While waiting to take a portrait on the west side of the building, I sat down next to a Toledo fan. After a few minutes, I leaned over and welcomed him to Columbus. We chatted a bit, he full of optimism for an upset, me full of hope for a decent* game. I liked the guy, riiiiight up until he said he was a big Michigan fan.

*a blowout isn’t really all that much fun to shoot. there are plenty of chances to take pictures of touchdowns and big plays, but no BIG play, no challenge to the footballphotography gods to be in the right spot on the field at the right time, pointing the camera at the right player when something magical happens.

Part of my assignment for the day was to take pictures of fans with certain attributes. Basically, the fans that non-believers would point to and say “look at how silly Ohio State fans are LOL!”

I thought a bit about just photographing the game through fan reactions, but I too was drawn to the action on the field, and found myself turning back to the field to watch the car wreck for myself. Maybe another time.

Besides. No one wants to look at pictures of glum Ohio State fans. In Ohio at least.*

*I know there are football fans in Ohio that don’t root for Ohio State, but they are obviously Bad People.

that was a joke. except for Michigan fans.

Learning from the best.

Off to a good start…

Happy dance.

The thing approves.

I was sitting near the end zone when a photographer from the Dispatch leaned over and said “I don’t think this is going how they expected it to.” I concurred, as I watched a Toledo fan waving her arms in the air. Get back to me in an hour, lady, I thought.

An hour later it wasn’t much better. My pictures weren’t very good either. Had both me and the Buckeyes lost our mojo?

Broke one.

Come to poppa.

Boogie down.

It’s cuddling time.

Our rocket.

In a way, we had. Nothing seemed to be going right. Even my attempt to a take a stadium overview shot came up wanting, just missing the September 11 formation the band did. And then trying to escape my lofty perch at the top of the south end zone, I went down a set of steps that ended in a locked door*. Useful.

*second time this season this has happened. why aren’t the doors at the top of the stairs locked too?

Too many dressed in grey.

Coupled with the fact that Ohio State was losing, or at least in danger of it, I also didn’t have any good pictures from it. Being somewhat mercenary in my photographic tendencies, I wanted Ohio State to win, but if they didn’t, I at least wanted some good pictures from it. At the same time, no one who comes here is particularly interested in looking at pictures of smiling Rockets and sad-face Buckeyes.

I am this relieved!

Safe by a yard.

So I was pretty pleased when Domicone downed a punt inside the 5- until he turned away from me to celebrate. Still, it would prove to be a big play, and it was in my view finder, even if it wasn’t optimal. Then Simon, who I had seen laying on the sidelines earlier* came streaming around the corner and knocked down Toledo quarterback Austin Dantin to help quash a Toledo drive. With Toledo pinned back in their end, it looked like Ohio State had quelched another threat.

* on the sidelines, you don’t necessarily know all the gory details, like John Simon’s leg cramps. instead you just worry.

By the laces.

Hurtin’ time.

A few drives later, as Toledo began to receed into the distance toward the Ohio State end zone I scurried to the other end, to position myself both for the final Toledo push and the scrum for Carmen Ohio.

(Boy, I sure hope we don’t screw this up!)

There are two main positions for any football play, photographically speaking. In front of the line, or behind it. Behind it affords a position for sacks and defensive returns, and to an extent catches and interceptions. I put myself in the southwest corner of the end zone waited for the football universe to either collapse into itself, or carry on as normal.

How firm thy friendship … OHIO!

And as we all know, John Simon and the rest of the Buckeye defense held fast, Bauserman successfully executed the victory formation, and all was well with the college football universe. At least in Columbus. And that’s all that matters.

Now you can;

Check out a photo gallery of Saturday’s game.

Join the  OSUAA.

or you could become an OSUAA fan on Facebook.

You could like me, because who doesn’t like a liking?

You can keep up with my photographic musings by following me on Twitter; @crookphoto

And the OSUAA, too @OhioStateAlumni

I am aware they are the Akron Zips, but their logo is a kangaroo, fer cryin’ out loud.

Before I could witness the spectacle and revel in the mystery of what this year’s Buckeyes would look like, I had to gain access to Ohio Stadium. Not much was stirring on the asphalt meadows surrounding campus, so I geared up to march over the Olentangy. With a camera dangling off each shoulder, a group of belt pouches, a backpack and a sound recorder, my pack mule appearance generated three “that guy needs more cameras” and incredulity from a youngster I fell in step behind on the way to the stadium. He pointed me out to his brother, mother and father and was going through them again when I told him I would take his picture in the stands and gave him my card.

I forgot he would be there with 105,000 of his closest friends.

The lack of tailgating was almost jarring-it seems to have been in steady decline for the past few years, at least in the locales I frequent at the times I frequent them. So I headed to the stadium to lighten my load and then check out the skull session.

The media check in had a sign directing me to the adjacent Huntington entrance, where I picked up my personalized credential (it has my picture and everything!) and then I unloaded and untangled so they could search my bags.

As usual, they were very kind and gentle as they checked out my gear and affixed an arm band on each piece. Then I had to go back out the gate I came in, and in the next gate down. Where I was searched again. Almost apologetically.

I told the guy I was going to go back out again and he kind of groaned. I dropped most of the gear off in the photo dungeon and headed to the skull session, where the combined TBDBITL and Alumni TBDBITL were blowing the roof off the place.

Maybe he was just hot.

As soon as I got to floor level, I immediately noticed a guy in seeming contemplation with his trumpet. He seemed vaguely melancholy, as if missing his time at OSU, or just spending time with his memories. So of course I took his picture. After climbing 150 flights* of stairs to the balcony and shooting a few frames of the massive assemblage of brass and bass, I mulled my options. My plan was some food in the press box, and then photographing the alumni band as they marched into the stadium.

*it only felt like it

We have you outnumbered, TBDBITL.

Scarlet and loud.

As far as I could remember from last season, the band marched over about an hour before kickoff, give or take. So I could squeeze into an elevator, ride up to the press box, snarf down some bar-b-que, wash it down with something fizzy, grab some waters and then back down the elevator, through the concourse, up some ramps and then stake out a spot on the balcony overlooking the walk from St. John Arena.

And do it all in a half hour, by the time I got on the elevator. I did, too, and came huffing and puffing up to the people gathered at the railing overlooking St. John. An old couple immediately moved over and offered a spot, squeezing themselves into the wall. A teenager who was beside them looked at me sullenly and then returned his gaze to the scene below.

I told the older couple they were fine and they decompressed a bit and we stood there and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Turns out I misremembered. The band doesn’t come over an hour before the game, it is closer to a half hour before the game. So we stood in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the breeze. Finally, a commotion below us marked the impending arrival of the band. I expected the Alumni Band first, but a man with a bullhorn soon appeared, sending the security people into a frenzy to clear a path. Then the first glint of brass through the trees and the band thundered into sight. And despite having made more or less the same photo last year, it is still an impressive sight.

Arriving in style.

A short while later, the army of Alumni TBDBITLs arrived, wave after wave of scarlet clad alumni marching in time and waiting patiently for their turn to enter the ‘Shoe.

And standing there overlooking the scene, I realized that I was in the loving bosom of Buckeye Nation, where no one was going to deride the program, or take delight in its misfortunes. And it felt nice. No talking heads trying to hide a smile as they explain the Buckeyes woes, but a universal appreciation for all things Ohio State.

Never question a man wearing long sleeves on a 90 degree day.

The crowd was so happy to see the Buck’s, they didn’t even seem to notice that Akron had arrived, sparing them the boos that sometimes accompany the opponent’s entrance. Indeed, all eyes were focused on Luke Fickell and the Buckeyes as they stormed onto the field behind a phalanx of cheerleaders of varying vintage.

And then, as they say, it was on.

Pretty good for an old guy.

One of the few thoughts that weren’t melted into a thought stew was ‘that’s Bauserman?’ after his scramble into the end zone on a busted play for the first touchdown of the season. Who would have thought a quarterback scrambled for the first TD, and it wasn’t some guy named Pryor. He was blocked as he crashed into the red, but I did get a shot of him sneaking past the line.

Another thought, incidentally, was ‘boy its hot.’ Paraphrasing.

Smith on the stroll.

Thundering Hyde.

Jake Stoneburner is a fine young man and I look forward to seeing more of him.

Look! More Stoneburner!

And another; 14-0 in the second quarter? Really? Against Akron? Akron must be playing their arses off. I unthunk that thought pretty quickly on further consideration.

Leaving headless defenders in his wake; Bauserman the Destroyer.

Raise your skinny trombone to the sky like fists.

Dotter.

At half time, I went in for some water, and came out to hear something about Les Wexner come crackling over the PA. Then I spied a guy on the sidelines and using what was left of my powers of deduction, figured that he was going to dot the eye.

Getting a picture of the I dotter is kind of hard. Especially if there is more than one I. Many layers of people to shoot through. So when I saw Mr. Wexner head into the sea of scarlet, I scrambled for a spot to get a picture. Even shooting through the band, I could see that he was beaming and having a great time. For a guy with riches beyond most imaginations, who has probably experienced cool things beyond most imaginations, he seemed to be genuinely happy to be there. You just can’t fake that.

After the dotting, the band went into Bound for Glory, which is one of those songs you have heard before but can’t quite place. It also sounds like the theme song for a Western.

Blasting through.

The game began to drag, mostly because of the heat. The sidelines, not at all crowded at the beginning of the game, became even more spacious. A stalled Buckeyes drive that resulted in a missed field goal had one photographer shouting “Fickell Ball!” We were getting loopy from the heat.

During the third quarter, I made my way down to the south end zone. The band had taken off their jackets and most of them had bags of ice on their heads. There was only one thing to do.

Time of our lives.

At some point in the third quarter, I reached for my second camera dangling around off my shoulder and nearly dropped it. The metal frame was hot to the touch, to point that I began to worry about it melting the camera’s innards. When I raised it to my eye, I had to hold it by my finger tips.

Take a seat.

By the fourth quarter, I must admit I wanted it to be over. Judging by the empty seats, nearly everyone else did too. Akron certainly did. I saw people streaming to the exits before half time.

Happy/Sad.

Celebrate with your friends.

In the fourth, after missing a spectacular catch right in front of me (maybe I need three cameras, for an easy-access wide angle I would use once a season) the only mystery that remained was how good really are the Buckeyes? (The same mystery we had at the start of the game.) Bauserman looked good, and the addition of Braxton Miller was enough to push that dynamic former Ohio State quarterback and current Raider out of mind for a while. The defense held the Zips scoreless, but they had a lot of help from the hapless Zips offense, too.

E-boned.

Seriously, Terrelle who?

Elbow room.

Fight for your right to Carmen.

And yet when will the mystery be solved? Toledo is better than Akron, but shouldn’t present too much of a problem. Miami has been beaten up by its own (much worse) transgressions, and Colorado, despite being in the Pac 10, doesn’t exactly inspire fear. We shall see. It is certainly going to be an interesting season. So many new faces, I caught myself wondering “who?” after more than one play.

As the clock wound down, I headed to the south end zone again to catch some Carmen Ohio action. Coming down the visitors sideline, I could see the photographers coming from the other side being corralled behind a rope, with a grey-shirted security guy gesticulating with authority at them. As I watched, the area they were in got smaller and smaller, and they began to push up against the ladder the band conductor uses to conduct. He looked down with concern.  The team arrived, and the security guys formed a beaming (and slightly goofy looking) cordon around them.

And thus protected, the team performed the sacred ritual and retreated to the cooler confines of the locker room, mystery intact.

Now you can;

Join the  OSUAA.

or you could become an OSUAA fan on Facebook.

You could like me, because who doesn’t like a liking?

You can keep up with my photographic musings by following me on Twitter; @crookphoto

And the OSUAA, too @OhioStateAlumni

Check out the OSUAA home page for a photo gallery from Saturday’s game.

The finger doesn’t lie.

I heard about this nice place over by the circle…

After trying to stifle the butterflies with some pasta in the media lounge Sunday afternoon, I set about trying to make a spot trade so I could get the Buckeyes coming toward me for the first half. No dice though, so I settled down in the second row and waited. The cheerleaders charged onto the floor, and then the lights dimmed for introductions. A spotlight swirled around the Fieldhouse, and then settled on the players being introduced. Stray light spilled onto Thad Matta as he gave a few last words of pep to one of his players. Perhaps they were making dinner plans.

Ok. So a kangaroo, a chicken and a monkey walk into a bar…

A long distance short jumper.

And then it was on. And never really in doubt. After all, in the news reports I listened to on the way to my hotel Saturday night, the radio hosts could never quite hide their surprise when they said that Penn State would be playing Ohio State for the Big Ten Tournament title.

Ohio State is a machine. A freight train. It might take a while to get up to speed, but once it is going it takes a hell of a lot of effort to slow it down. Penn State battled for a while, and then began to recede into the rear view as the big machine got rolling.

I got to watch the early goings from the wrong end though, so I kept an eye on Matta and hoped for a block. Lauderdale rose up for a swat that was so huge my lens could not contain it, so all I got was a big shiny head and a truncated arm. The crowd went crazy, and I was chagrined.

Threeebler!

Penn State started to edge closer as the half neared, until Diebler hit a three to pad the lead. The crowd went crazy there, too, and Diebler ran down the court with three fingers in the air, something I saw most of the Buckeyes do at one point during the tournament. Or at least get ready to raise three fingers before dropping their arm in disappointment.

Ol’ Thad Matta looked more relaxed this time around, perhaps recognizing that maybe Penn State was nothing to get too worked up over. A few times he leaned against the scorers table, positively radiating relaxation. Hopefully his back was not bothering him. Several times he spoke to the referee in a close huddle. I could almost picture a thought bubble; didja hear the one about the…

Lightly off his feet.

Wrap around Sully.

Clickclickclickclickclick

In the second half, I put on my wide lens to document my position, and how the whole scene looked from my vantage point. When you are following the game through any kind of zoom lens (I was using a 70-200) you don’t necessarily get a feel for the flow of the game, since you are usually following the player with the ball. As I shot Sullinger pull down a rebound, he came up lame again, and walked to the edge of the court. I heard Matta ask if he was ok and come over to make sure his star was ok, as he towered over the front row of photographers documenting his every move.

More for Lighty

Now I get it.

Delicate touch.

Deep in the second half, Lauderdale floated in a short jumper, and the place went crazy. That a mountain of a man could have such a soft touch is nothing short of a miracle.

As the game wound down, it became apparent there was going to be very little emotion, and the only mystery left was what would happen when the game was finally over. For the photographers, that is.

After a football game, there is an all-out charge toward the middle of the field, mostly to get the opposing coaches greeting each other, but I suspect that a lot of people do it because they can. But since this was the second DI college basketball game of my life, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect. The photog wranglers had handed out a piece of paper before the game with our instructions and various rules to follow, but I heard some photographers questioning the exact verbage of the rules, so I suspected that someone, or a group of someones, would go charging toward center court, thus providing some backs to take a picture of.

Instead, the game ended, the happy Buckeyes disappeared into a sea of happy coaches (they do have a lot of assistants) and as if by magic, a rope appeared in front of us. The chosen ones got to pass the ropes, the rest of us got to stand behind the ropes. A stage appeared at center court, and then the Buckeyes went off and did some TV stuff.

Finally, they all got on stage and the Big Ten commissioner presented the trophy.

I hope the National Title trophy is nicer.

And stood there. I am sure he is a wonderful man, a pillar of the community and a true gentleman, but really, no one wanted to take his picture standing with the buckeyes. He was short enough, compared to the players, that you could see their happy faces, but tall enough that he kind of messed up the photos.

Then the confetti canons went off, which seemed kind of gratuitous, because it wasn’t Super Bowl confetti, where a veritable blizzard of the stuff rains down for minutes at a time, but a sort of brief flurry, just long enough for most of us to have our hopes dashed when we spied a picture of a happy Sullinger holding the trophy in confetti, with a wee commissioner head in the middle of the picture.

Cut here, and here.

The Buckeyes stood around for a few minutes, and then took turns mounting a ladder to cut their portion of the net. I stood at the base of the ladder for a few minutes, photographing oddly solemn Buckeyes cutting the net. An usher type person held a rope to keep us at bay, doing his best to stay out of the way without letting go of the rope. There was not much emotion to the proceedings, and what little there was was directed back toward the team. As the coaches started to climb up to cut their share, I went to look for a new spot.

I followed the rope back to the front of the stage, where a few lonely ushers stood holding back a crowd of none. I was now more or less behind the team. Coach Matta climbed the ladder, the usher nearest me kept saying “money shot, money shot.”

That’s our Thad!

Coach Thad cut the last string, and then turned and waved the net above his head.

Sure it is corny, and sure it is cliche, but gosh darn it, only champions get to wave the net above their head.

Now you can;

Join the  OSUAA.

or you could become an OSUAA fan on Facebook.

You could like me, because who doesn’t like a liking?

You can keep up with my photographic musings by following me on Twitter; @crookphoto

And the OSUAA, too (who will be retweeting me, too) @OhioStateAlumni

Keep an eye on the OSUAA blog for an update on photo galleries from the Buckeyes final two games at the Big Ten Tournament.