And they're off
November09200707:59 PM
In a way,
photographing election night is like shooting a
sporting event except the players aren't wearing
numbers and the playing field is a tightly packed
room which gets warmer and warmer as candidates,
supporters, and members of the media sweat out the
last few minutes before the results are announced,
literally. Like a football game, we photographers
went into it knowing who our key players would be - I
was assigned to cover Kathy Coffey and Susan Whitman,
as well as look for other telling moments in the
pandemonium.
Much like a sporting event, the center of the visual story is the elation of victory and the sad sag of defeat. The strategy, the plays, the cheering and the action has already happened. At the end, all of us are together in a small room, waiting for the scoreboard to light up. And when the numbers appear, it's the reaction of the players that matters, joy or disappointment. It's the way each player handles victory or defeat.
Leaning close to Susan Whitman after she read that she had only gotten roughly half the votes of her opponent she smiled softly, telling me that yes, she was disappointed, but that her faith helped her not put her entire self into the results, but to look at the defeat in the context of the many other important parts of her life. Her husband Rob put a hand on her back and she said they'd planned to enjoy relaxing together after hearing the results, whatever they might be.
A moment later, a loud whoop soared across the packed room. "Guess what, mom -- I won!" Summer Derrey's face lit up. Earlier, I'd watched as she'd done the meet and greet with the local political community. Poised and cheerful, only her nervous gesture of picking her fingernails gave away the tension that was finally released as she grinned into the cell phone, letting her mother, then her boyfriend cheer with her about her victory.
Being a good sport, in the political field, as well as on the playing field, seems something that both teams, for the most part, value. After the game, the softball team will head down the line, smacking hands and murmuring "good game." The gesture may be heartfelt, or not. As the results sunk in, opponents in local races met briefly to shake hands before leaving to celebrate, to relax, to plan for the future, whatever it might be. We make the pictures, the closing in what has been a long story, many innings. We try to show the way the players hold themselves, what their faces, stony or smiling, reveal about the game and players alike.
-- Sara Gettys
Much like a sporting event, the center of the visual story is the elation of victory and the sad sag of defeat. The strategy, the plays, the cheering and the action has already happened. At the end, all of us are together in a small room, waiting for the scoreboard to light up. And when the numbers appear, it's the reaction of the players that matters, joy or disappointment. It's the way each player handles victory or defeat.
Leaning close to Susan Whitman after she read that she had only gotten roughly half the votes of her opponent she smiled softly, telling me that yes, she was disappointed, but that her faith helped her not put her entire self into the results, but to look at the defeat in the context of the many other important parts of her life. Her husband Rob put a hand on her back and she said they'd planned to enjoy relaxing together after hearing the results, whatever they might be.
A moment later, a loud whoop soared across the packed room. "Guess what, mom -- I won!" Summer Derrey's face lit up. Earlier, I'd watched as she'd done the meet and greet with the local political community. Poised and cheerful, only her nervous gesture of picking her fingernails gave away the tension that was finally released as she grinned into the cell phone, letting her mother, then her boyfriend cheer with her about her victory.
Being a good sport, in the political field, as well as on the playing field, seems something that both teams, for the most part, value. After the game, the softball team will head down the line, smacking hands and murmuring "good game." The gesture may be heartfelt, or not. As the results sunk in, opponents in local races met briefly to shake hands before leaving to celebrate, to relax, to plan for the future, whatever it might be. We make the pictures, the closing in what has been a long story, many innings. We try to show the way the players hold themselves, what their faces, stony or smiling, reveal about the game and players alike.
-- Sara Gettys