Last night was the first NFL home game for a Los Angeles team since 1994. 22 years without a home game in a city this size is a long, long time. None of my six children were born yet when the Rams left for St. Louis and the Raiders returned to Oakland, I decided to experience it. Apparently a few other people wanted to do that as well.
It seemed like the perfect opportunity to take my 16-year-old, football crazy son to his first NFL game, even if it was “just a practice game.” I didn’t bring my “real camera,” just my iPhone and the sunset shot above I took using two apps I don’t use much anymore. The five base photos were captured with Pro HDR X and then stitched together in AutoStitch.
Looking at it this morning, it’s not a particularly great photo. The blend on the stitching is not perfect, the color is too saturated in many places and the wrong places, and the detail I have come to love in the photos I get from my Sony a6000 is woefully lacking. I don’t care.
Some photographs are just photographs. Some photographs are memories. And some memories don’t have photographs.
My favorite memory of last night, for example, is the casual, honest conversation we had on the ride home. There were no monumental discoveries made, no intense discussions, it was just a simple conversation with my son. Just him and me.
The Rams won their first Los Angeles home game in 22 years last night. I wouldn’t have cared if they had lost. I was winning either way.
You were winning either way.
More and more I realize it’s the journey, not the destination.