It’s basketball season again, which always brings me back to NBA on TNT.
For a couple of years, I photographed NBA on TNT without really knowing anything about basketball. I knew Michael Jordan was the greatest player who ever lived. Apparently, other people had opinions about this, too.
My ignorance occasionally required an explanation.
Once, during the All-Star Game, I was heading from a hotel to the venue when a producer told me to ride with Kenny Smith. As I climbed into the SUV, Kenny said, “Hey, no photos in the car, okay?”
“Sure, no problem. I’m crawling in back and sleeping until we get there.”
He smiled and gave me a thumbs-up.
When we arrived, there was a crowd. People were calling out “Yo, Jet!” and yelling his name, thrilled to see him.
“Oh, weird,” I said. “Were you a ball player?”
“What? Yeah, man. I should be in the Hall of Fame.”
I knew Kenny as one of the hosts of the show I worked on. I thought he was a sports commentator, like Ernie Johnson. I usually saw him next to Shaq and Charles Barkley, which apparently had done something to my understanding of scale. Ask me about fighters or skateboarders. Those were my people.
Years later, thanks to my partner, basketball became a regular part of our evenings. I watched hundreds of games. I developed favorites, loyalties, and opinions that nobody had asked for. I loved an unexpected pass. I loved watching someone sink a three from an unreasonable distance.
I became, among other things, a very big Steph Curry fan.
Then, while adding photographs to my archive, I came across this frame of Curry and Chris Webber on set at the 2013 NBA on TNT Social Media Awards. I recognized Steph immediately. Such a young face, but unmistakably him. One of my all-time favorite players, standing in front of my camera.
I opened the metadata. Where his name should have been, I’d left a blank.
At the time, I had no idea who he was.
This has become a recurring theme in my life. I find myself in the middle of something; I do my job, and move on. Years later, I learn enough to appreciate where I was and who was standing right in front of me. By then, of course, I can’t go back and pay better attention.
There’s something funny about becoming a fan of someone and then discovering you’ve already met. There’s a little regret in it, too. I wish I remembered more about that day. I wish I’d known enough to enjoy it the way I would now.
But I’m glad I made the photograph.