Forget All Three
Saturday. Again, for whatever reason, a long night's sleep, up at eight, to breakfast and back after nine: the day bright, the temperature great, a baseball game to pack a camera and make preparations for coming up sooner than I might think. My, my. I need to bring a wide brimmed hat, no problem there, and something with long sleeves. I guess an actual shirt with a collar and everything. No short sleeved t-shirt ensembles when you're contemplating three or four hours under the sun. I seem to recall from prior experience. After the River Cats' game in Sacramento, for example: hat in place, sleeves not. Diddle-dee-dot.
If I were going to photograph the trip to the game “for real” I'd bring two cameras: one with a long f 2.8 lens and one with a medium f 2.8 zoom or prime. Do I want to be carrying all that crap to a baseball game? I could bring a single camera with the 18 - 200 f 3.5 - 5.6 zoom, but it doesn't take as good a picture. But it's light. And it's easy to carry. And it's light. I believe I mentioned it was light? And easy to carry?
And?
I suspect we'll know pretty soon.
Later. We took the single camera with the general purpose lens, we took the bus, we took BART, we arrived at the stadium stop and met up with Mr. E, Mr. H and Mr. S and watched the A's play the Angels ten rows behind the Angels dugout. And this was good. And this was wearing under a clear bright sun, but there was a breeze toward the end of the game and I and we survived. This is good. Oh, and the Angels creamed the A's eleven to five. Or was it eleven to six? Something like that.
Basically we were sitting looking down the first base line to second and so I took a number of photographs of ball players standing on and around first and second base, none of which will get into the baseball photographer's hall of fame. A couple of the crowd, one on the train back to Oakland. For someone who sat on his ass all afternoon I'm one tired old coot who shouldn't, in retrospect, have eaten that giant pretzel. Something to do with the stomach and its recovery from the operation. No more giant pretzels without lots of water to wash it down. No diet Coke. No diet Pepsi, ever. I'm telling you. Forget all three.
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