It's a life, a good life

I had my FM-10 slung over my shoulder, standing at the perfect vantage point to take my shots. It wasn’t quite time yet though. The clock was ticking down the seconds as I waited, but it wasn’t yet time.

To pass the final moments away and to calm my nerves, I was chomping on a hotdog smothered in mustard and ketchup with some diced onions for a little extra flavour. Damn it was good.

People were starting to flood into the building as 7:30 p.m. drew closer and closer. It was almost time for some action.

The number of people strolling in started to make me a little nervous. You attract a little more attention they’d you’d like with an FM-10 resting on your shoulder. Everyone wonders what you’re going to shoot.

My hands started to shake a little bit. Mustard oozed out of my hotdog bun and onto the front of my jacket.

I didn’t even notice. I couldn’t help but think my jitters would affect my performance. This was the only night to get the job done before deadline

The seconds kept ticking away, 4:41, 4:40, 4:39.... I finished my hotdog and tossed the tin foil wrapping to the ground.

I took out a cartridge and loaded my weapon of choice.

Sweat started dripping down my brow. I was having a little trouble with the ammo thanks to my unsteady hands.

My dexterity dropped two-fold, my fingers clumsily got everything in position.

I raised the device to my eye and looked through the sights, checked my setting and fired off three warning shots.

Everything was fine. My agenda would go off without a hitch.

Then my buddy Kevin stands beside me, leans up against the railing and says: “hey, how’s it going?”

“I doing alright. Damn snow sucks though.”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” Kevin replys. “So what’s your prediction?” He asks of my intelligence.

“We’ll take them down,” I retort as an evil smile crosses my lips, and I think to myself ‘we’ll take them down good.’ I suppress a cackle that would have given a snake shivers.

I look at the clock. 1:01, 1:00, 0:59.... It’s almost time.

My hand reaches for my equipment. I get it ready, bring it to my eye and make sure everything is ready to roll.

“Here’s your Battleford North Stars,” the P.A. system announces to the chorus of some really loud music.

I hold my breath, take aim and fire a couple shots. Guillaume Miszczak shot. Captain Dylan Wiltermuth shot. The same with Michael George.

It’s a good start. Three of the people on my list are done. I only have 16 more to go.

My nerves have been conquered by my excitement. Adrenaline courses through my veins. I have to consciously think about breathing. I pull in a deep breath. Exhale. Repeat.

No one seems to be taking note of what I’m up to, except for Kevin but he’s witnessed me doing this a dozen times before and doesn’t care anymore.

The game begins. The music stops. The action starts.

There’s shouting from the crowd. I take another couple quick shots.

I chilling smile exposes all 28 of my teeth, much like the robotic shark from Jaws about to take a bit out of some hot girl skinny-dipping.

A little drool slides out of my mouth. My tongue darts out and licks it up before the wetness can get very far.

There’s an opportunity. I take a few more shots. I have to be selective. Infinite ammo is in the world of cheat codes and video games.

This is life. My life and I love it.

There’s nothing better than pure joy of watching hockey and taking pictures of all the action with my Nikon fully-manual SLR.

I wish it was a D-60, but maybe soon. Then I’ll be able to fire all the shots I want and not worry about running out of film. It’ll be great.

I snap off shots of the remaining 16 players of the home team. Using two more rolls of Ilford 400 film, which I’ve pushed to 1600 to allow for a 1/250 shutterspeed so I can clearly capture all the hockey action without ending up with blurry negatives.

I’ll get the negs back on Monday after they’re developed, choose my shots, write the story, layout my pages and you could be reading about it come Wednesday.

It’s all in the News-Optimist, Wednesday's edition. North Stars battle the La Ronge Ice Wolves. It's a duel to the death. Well not really, but neither team wants to lose. There's ego on the line, and hockey players have some of the biggest chips on their shoulders than most people I meet. Even Rolf's employees.