Well, that was the World Cup, when’s the next one?

 

The Roller Derby World Cup 2025. Hosted by the Fearless Bruisers in Innsbruck

It was just getting light when I left. It was dull and overcast, a cool morning to walk down to the station. I was unsure how I’d get all the bags to the station but had managed to even out the weight to try and take some pressure of the shoulder that was playing up, which was, on reflection much better, but I didn’t want to aggravate it further.

Going away to cover a big competition always creates stress. The main one is missing one’s flight due to aggravation at security. Will all the gear get through, will the batteries conform to the requirements set by the airline? Will I spend an hour disassembling the bags and having all the gear swabbed down? Even knowing the regs and checked many times, all it takes is one surly security guard who’s having bad day to complicate things. I’ve had hassle in the past, and whilst never missing a flight, some have been close.

Even with all my prep I was shocked at how smooth the journey went. Apart from Munich airport where I spent a good hour trying to locate the exit (I met a lot of people with similar issues). But I had plenty of time between transfers to wander at leisure, learning to love being lost.

Shooting a world cup, takes me though several emotional stages. Stress of getting there. Excitement of being there. The manic first day trying to shoot all and everything. This induces an early burnout, especially with the heat, which I was aware of, but had underestimated. A tiredness that hits you when one retires to the hotel to back up all the files.

Fuego Latino vs USA

Day two brings a sense of dread. How am I going to keep going at this pace for the next three days? The answer is, I’m not. Get one good shot in the bag and I can relax. When shooting a burst, you can tell whether the camera has locked focus. The shutter purrs, rather than stutters as it continuously adjusts focus. My glasses are scratched to hell, so the view through the viewfinder always seems blurry. I had framed the action, the shutter purred, and I knew instantly that I had one in the bag. Sometimes it takes the review in the edit to find a keeper, sometimes you know instantly. The pressure I’d put on myself was off. After a long day I dragged myself back to the hotel, happy I had at least one good shot. I ordered a beer, backed up the files and passed out.

Day three is always a slog. The body and mind are working on basic motor skills at this point. Compose, focus, press. Repeat, ad infinitum.  It may be a good thing taking thinking out of the equation. Day three is always the hardest. As before, pack up, wander back to the hotel, beer, back-up and bed.

Day four is where the adrenalin kicks in. The final day. One can operate on fizzy water alone, knowing that once it is all over, the crash that follows will be sweet. You don’t have to get up early, you don’t have to back-up all the files, you don’t have to do anything, except relax and savour the previous few days. Taking an extra day to do all the admin and get some sightseeing in was a must, leaving the stress of travelling back for another day. And that stress was minimal. I’d get home somehow, even if I missed the flight and had to hitchhike back.

Equipe de France Roller Derby vs Team Finland

The old adage, good athletes get you good photos, excellent athletes get you excellent photos holds true. Top notch, action packed, from start to finish. The mind, by now is attuned. It works automatically; you can see the action before it happens. With the day wrapped up, I had plans to celebrate at the afterparty. After dropping the gear of at the hotel and a beer with Paul Jones, just the one, which extended to two, and then a third, I’d blown any chance of getting back to the venue.  The mind was willing, but the body wouldn’t comply. Self-sabotage.

The view from my window has gotten considerably worse.

Returning home one is faced with a mountain of editing to do, a mountain that is less attractive than the one I had been staring out of my hotel window for the previous 8 days. Getting them processed and out and shared in a timely fashion meant ploughing through thousands of files. At least with so much good Derby, and a great venue to shoot in, finding keepers wasn’t an issue, culling them to a manageable amount was more of a challenge.

Distance gives one time to reflect. The dread and stress dissolves into excitement and euphoria.

Photography isn’t about creating images. It’s about recording memories. Prompts to look back on, in the short term, and longer, to bore family and friends, kids and grandchildren, about how bad-ass you are/were on track.

As for my memory, well, it fades. The tiredness, stress, hassle, long days, lack of suitable sustenance, all the negative stuff, replaced by, wow, that was good, when’s the next one?

Find all the photos on Roller Derby on Film

England vs Australia