Providence Snapshots

Sports fans own, operate and support Providence Photography and as a result, much of this blog touches on various aspects of hockey, football, tailgating and other relating topics. Additionally, as an institution of photography, these posts aim to avoid exclusion and often include elements of such.

For questions relating to this blog, its posts or to request a post, opinion or advice, e-mail josh@providencepics.com

July 31, 2010 -- Fairchild's Skyfest 2010

Every two years, some of the best pilots in the world gather near Spokane, Wash., for an amalgam of precision flying as they demonstrate everything from the grace of aviation to the power of the modern aerial war machine. Below are images taken from the show.

The question is: Which aircraft looks the meanest?

The F-16 of the Air Force's jet demonstration team The Thunderbirds

The F-18, similar to the ones used by the Navy and Marine Corps' Blue Angels

The F-15 representing the ultimate in air superiority until the arrival of the esteemed F-22 Raptor

Post your pick below

I can't help but wonder if there is a bag of groceries on a leash somewhere tied to a post at a grocery store.

... because everyone knows touching a foot to the ground could reactivate the spacial anomaly through which one originated.

... because the need to showcase an aptitude for physical balance somehow assuages a chemical imbalance in the brain.

July 1, 2010 -- Racquetball, the other tennis; iPod, the reason Apple isn't dead

Somewhere between tennis and ping pong lies a sport designed for the angry. Racquetball pits two or more racket-bearing people in an elongated cube with a rubber ball and yells, "go!" OK, so rules and strategies upgrade the barbaric concept to more of an organized chaos but in the end, a professional match still resembles two spider monkeys fighting for a banana.

Diving, aggressive swinging, running, jumping and long reaches help keep a match interesting to watch but painful to play. A point usually lasts a few seconds but any number of familiar injuries take half that time to remind players they aren't actually made of iron-rubber composites.

For the casual player, equipment doesn't have to break the bank. Sporting goods outfitters typically stock goggles, balls and rackets with the tennis and ping pongs gear and depending on the establishment, should have options at a variety of prices. A pair of non-marking athletic shoes rounds out the list of essentials.

Water bottles and the iPod, one of the few, semi-functioning successes to leave the Apple assembly line anchor the arena of nonessential gear. The clip-on boom box adds some interesting elements to a match. Not only does the music introduce sounds other than the incessant echoing of every, last, uttered syllable and collision between the ball and a wall, the ceiling or Plexiglas but supplies motivation as well.

The headphone controls cause one of the most annoying shortcomings of the iPod Shuffle, the smallest of the series. Because the unit itself has only one slider with the options, "off," "play in order" and "shuffle," volume and track selection duties are left to the headphone thumb control. This means when any conventional earpiece is plugged in, these controls are forfeited. Few experiences in sports come close to that of fully committing to a dive on a hardwood floor for a ball on its way down the wall with The Who's "Behind Blue Eyes" providing the soundtrack -- an anomaly for sure.

The wires stretching between the user's ears and the memory stick also retain the power of producing a possibly unanticipated, neck-snapping, arm-flailing, struggle for position. When this erupts, it's most reminiscent of a hornet attack or a man walking through a spiderweb, but always entertains.

Overall, for an all-weather, good-for-the-heart, competitive activity, racquetball hits the spot and iPods, despite the strange now-and-then irregularities, definitely enhance the experience.

Recovery and awakening litter this week. No pain no gain rings more true than ever. Next week will not surprise anyone.

My name is Josh Rasmussen. I'm a photographer, a sports fan and have been authoring the posts on this blog. Planning to do some light, weekend, trail riding, my wife Ashley and I purchase a pair of mountain bikes (pictured above). When Saturday arrives, the choice of mechanical bulls is tough. Essentially, I am left to decide between the assembly quality of Target and that of Wal-Mart. Literally, the decision boils to a Target bike or a refurbished Wal-Mart bike purchased through a third-party.

After confidently mounting my metal stallion, the Magma, almost offering a rider the option to use all the gears, I follow Ashley down the trail. We have given the spider web-like map (pictured above) a brief overview but fail to cement a sturdy plan. Ultimately we ride the trail marked in the snapshot with the red dots, in a down-and-back fashion.

Immediately, and nearly simultaneously, my bike-riding balance and the overwhelming burning sensation in my quads land on me. We have expected at least the opening leg to take us uphill after observing parts of the terrain earlier in the week while geocaching in the area, but we don't anticipate the uphill portion to carry us almost the entire first half of the ride.

Water-stops, huffing and puffing, moaning and second-guessing comprise the first several minutes of the "light trail ride." Steep on foot sublimates to vertical on pedals. This lesson punches us hard without hesitation.

Possibly the groups of ladies walking and riding past us as we contemplate death on the mountainside offer the greatest incentives to push ahead by any means necessary. Passing on the narrow trails proves difficult at times and the proximity warrants some small, awkward greeting or utterance. Passing the same group of joggers or walkers more than once while traveling in the same direction does not compute as an option to me. Safe to say, their tailgating keeps us going.

Eventually we cave and let a group we shoved off the trail while whizzing past earlier, scamper by, thus marking the halfway point of our venture. After an elongated water-guzzling, we come about and sharpen our spurs.

We make incredible time and quickly reach speeds we hadn't come close to hitting all day. It isn't until we reach the top of the day's first and unpleasantly-brutal hill, that we realize almost the entire journey to the halfway point has taken us uphill. Less confused about the pain in our legs and lack of air in our lungs, we return that hill's punch and roar on until we catch sight of our Jeep, which at this point, as far as I'm concerned, signifies the last chopper leaving Vietnam.

We will make a second, more-prepared attempt at a ride this weekend, weather-permitting. Hopefully our grocery-store two-wheelers will last the remainder of the already-short summer, keeping us strong on the mountain improving our game.

The fine folks at Wal-Mart are once again playing on intellect of their customers. This sign essentially states, "Good deals -- sometimes -- if we feel like it -- not really."

I think my dad put it best when he said, something to the effect of, a correctly-placed match would generate a missing person who would never be found.

Like many life sports, it's becoming clear golf has many faces. Correctly played, it demands a few specific characteristics, what I'll refer to as rules, some of which don't come easily to everyone.

Golf is a game of patience, an attribute presenting a considerable problem. Building muscle memory means spending time on the range and accomplishing correct fundamentals repeatedly. Needless to say, a short temper does not lend itself too well to this phase of learning.

Golf is a game of consistency. This aspect's application poses the real threat as incorrectly practicing several shots in a row doesn't push anyone closer to a hole-in-one. No, somewhat in conjunction with the first rule, it's more clear than ever that simply standing on the range and chopping at the ball is not only a waste of time, but a sizable step backward. Here is where my statistics and research methods training steps in, where I weigh quantity of shots against quality of shots.

Even though striking the ball fewer total times per session has the possibility of slowing the build-up of muscle memory, it seems a smaller collection of quality shots has a much greater capacity to advance both rules one and two than does that of a day filled with several hundred where'd-that-one-go shots.

Golf is a game of protocol. Of course this is not different from any other sport as each has its own set of manners, customs and unofficial rules, but those associated with this game are unlike any other. To begin with, spectators are separated into fans and patrons. The differences, if they are actually out there, seem to occupy too fine a line to quickly discern and are thereby rendered null.

The crowd at a tournament bears the name of gallery, as if people turn on their TVs to admire the collection of drunk bystanders. None the less, a beginning golfer dare not get caught speaking of a golf crowd.

The concept of playing through, though seemingly harmless, definitely constitutes at least an honorable mention here as the third absurdity in this happily elite world. Consistent with most sports, some people play well, some people don't. But in golf, those who fall victim to the designation of beginner earn the right to find themselves beneath a line of experienced golfers running them over as elephants unwittingly marching through jungle. A golfer's first 18, consecutive holes build confidence, not so much in the way of improving skills but by accomplishing the feat of surviving the other, most likely better, golfers.

After the second day of range practice following the second day of instruction, early results offer reasons for hope. The feel of the swing slowly gains familiarity. Surprisingly, the process of developing a proper motion represents one of the simpler tasks. It's only a matter of time before the embarrassment of topping balls and digging holes disappears entirely and those difficult, first 18 become a piece of the past.

Unfortunately, it's exactly what it looks like -- a half mullet. The smell is consistent with the style.

Adjacent to Gowen Field sits the Idaho Military History Museum which houses various pieces of memorabilia from the base's past. The military history class from Boise State pays it a visit every year.

A brief explanation of a WWII soldier's gear is given. Samples of food rations, mess kits, apparel and weapons lie on a table behind the performers.

The best part follows the question and answer session. The array of guns and the performers make their way outside the building and wait for the group to gather.

One by one, beginning with the pistols, each weapon gives its best effort to impress the onlookers. One of the rifles shoots a 9" flame from the barrel. Another lends its grenade-launching apparatus to the demonstration. Both anti-personnel and anti-tank grenades are fired and land silently, several yards away to an audible collective sigh of disappointment from those in attendance hoping for an explosion.

Tthe Thompson (Tommy) gun provides one of the most impressive demos. Screaming a unique sound, this weapon, according to the narrator, remains relatively steady and accurate after the second shot unlike what Hollywood sometimes depicts.

All-in-all, this experience offers a small fraction of insight to the conditions soldiers in WWII must work with during their historic campaigns.

When the weather changes from winter to summer and the sun shines but abstains from overheating, it's difficult to ignore the child-like urge to step outside and play. This day, however, proves once in a while the best way to enjoy sunshine is from the couch.

Geocaching, a hobby constantly growing in popularity, has people hiding containers holding small, random items and a log in which people of all ages record their visits. These caches are found with gps navigation via specific coordinate sets listed on a Web site. The whole ordeal is a fantastic way to give a point to driving and walking on a nice day where one otherwise might take a while to find.

Caches come in different sizes, most commonly regular (coffee can, peanut butter jar etc.) and micro (film canister, medicine bottle). The online map shows a large container, less usual, a short hike from a road near the airport. Take note of the two-word phrase, "short hike." This is a euphemism for treacherous, maddening, extremely unpleasant crawl. The 3-gallon container makes the find especially interesting and at this point, seemingly worth the trip.

As the hill pops into sight, a light coating of snow left from the morning becomes visible on the hillside. Having not spent much time in the desert, it's not surprising there was no reserve when departing toward the cache. Almost immediately it was apparent mud would become a factor, not just any mud either, a new mud resulting from the combination of desert soil and snow. This mud could hold the heat shield panels to the bottom of the space shuttle. Obviously the sides of a shoe, especially those of the previously-unblemished variety, fail to put up much in the way of a fight.

After sloshing to the top and bearing toward the target, the hole in which the cache is supposedly located appears. Rock after heavy, dirty rock flips over but reveals nothing. The snow still melting in the deathtrap nearly numbs the fingers and all to no avail.

Nearly an hour of tromping and wandering on top of this hill has passed and nothing but frozen frustration and now-solid mud comprise the venture. At one point, however, the hunting lands on a heavy but brittle, 5-gallon bucket filled with sand. A rock easily breaks the shell but gives no clues.

If the snapshot looks like it was taken from the point-on-view of a person standing neck-deep in a hole on top of a hill in the middle of nowhere, realize it should. But rest assured, the shoes almost look their original color once again.

This snapshot officially marks the beginning of a new Snapshots Blog series titled "How will they know?" This is short for "How will they know they're idiots," "How will they know they're not being cool," "How will they know big tires don't belong on little cars" etc. Boise alone provides more than enough head-turns and double-takes to fuel this series for years but from time to time, versions from elsewhere may appear. These will pop us as mostly cell phone images intended solely for entertainment.

Despite the outcome of the men's hockey, gold-medal game, team USA emerges superior. The color of the medal hanging from the players' necks can't be discounted but amounts to nothing more than a piece of the puzzle defining the success of a team or individual. The United States reign supreme because of how they got to where they did.

Accomplishments carry more weight in evaluation just as they did during the miracle game. When Mike Eruzione and the Americans topple the Soviet Union in Lake Placid, the appointment of medals is the least of concerns. The eventual gold is icing on the cake but from then end of those Olympic games to the 2010 games and beyond, the story isn't which team stands on the highest podium, but the unbelievable American accomplishment.

The night before the championship match, the teams compare the on the following criteria.

1. Team USA scores six goals in the first 12 minutes and 46 seconds of play against Finland's tandem of goaltenders. Four of the six come during even strength. Mikka Kiprusoff, Finland's starting goalie and 4th in the NHL in goals against average and 6th in save percentage, gives up the first four. Finland outscores opponents 10-4 through three games.

3. The Americans beat Canada head-to-head by two goals, scoring on both esteemed Canadian goalkeepers including starter Martin Brodeur who then is tied for second most wins in the NHL.

1. Team Canada eventually beats Switzerland in the second round of a shootout after a 2-2 tie. The Swiss narrowly escape a loss to Belarus.

2. Despite having two of the most hyped goaltenders, Canada allows more than 57% (8) more goals than the Americans.

3. Canada's fantastic duo of netminders allow two or more goals in five of six games giving up as many as five on one occasion.

Even a quick evaluation of accomplishments to this point weighs heavily in favor of the United States. The icing on the cake in Vancouver comes from of the last-minute, Zach Parise goal. By the time Canada enters its second overtime period of the games, it loses any remaining credibility and sovereignty regardless of the outcome.

The sum of the Canadians' gold medals and the embarrassment of their poor play and pair of close calls simply don't outweigh how the total reached by adding the Americans' silver medals to all they accomplish -- everything expected of them and so much more, including beating largely-favored and in many way home team -- Canada, outscoring them 7-6. Had the Canadians wiped the floor with the field as expected, this post would read much differently.

Perhaps one of the toughest quarterbacks the NFL has ever seen and star in one of its best stories success stories, Kurt Warner announces his retirement. He says he plans to spend more time with his family, possibly do some preaching and maybe a little broadcasting as well.

Before his achievements as the highest level, Warner spends time in both European football and the Arena Football League (AFL). His ability to shine in the NFL helps give credit to these other leagues and shows others time spent in them is not necessarily wasted.

Certainly discussion continues about the validity and comparability of the NFL to the Canadien Football League (CF) or the run, pass, kick league as it's sometimes deemed on account of its 3-down system. Ricky Williams probably makes the best argument for this group's ability to retain a player's professional football stock in the United States. After his trouble in Miami, he spends time north of the border and eventually returns with a great deal of success in the Dolphins' wildcat formation.

So the idea of others making similar transitions lives, but none make quite the hit Warners does. Number 13 makes a living turning down-on-their-luck teams into Superbowl contenders. He lands big-show, MVP honors with the St. Louis Rams' win and nearly adds to it as leader of the Arizona Cardinals in 2009.

Prepare to see Warner on ESPN from time to time. His makeup isn't such that allows him to disappear. It's exciting to know he, in a very Dungy-like way, can pop up wherever and whenever he wants and for sure, it will have a positive light.

At one time or another, every sports fan feels compelled to claim ownership of a team, if not multiple teams. Many people have a team in each sport, sometimes even in multiple leagues.

The real questions come by way of qualifications and rules. Such quandaries include the following: the home or regional team, proximity to a claimed team and bandwagoning. Not surprisingly, there are several points of view regarding this subject. Here is yet another.

First, proximity plays no factor. With so many legitimate reasons to support a team, the physical distance between a fan and his or her claim falls from the picture. Second, if a person has a claimed team other than the home or regional team, he or she may also support the local interest as long as the two groups don't playing each other. Those situations are subject to specific circumstances. For instance, one may hold a record capable of making the playoffs with an additional loss while the other team plays one win from the playoffs.

Third, a fantastic win in a Super Bowl, Stanley Cup, World Series or whatever, can serve as a legitimate reason to start following a team and take a second-level interest, begin learning players, coaches, management, the stadium etc., but people who move too far too fast after such an event might fall victim to suspicion -- especially if the interest tapers off or refocuses altogether without an equally-large, negative happening. Those who bandwagon appear as posers or fakers to real fans. Part of sports is standing by an organization through thick and thin. Experiencing the not-so-memorable times make following sports complete and sweeten those big wins and playoff runs.

The picture below represents the teams I claim. Don't think for a second the Saints are a bandwagoning situation. They've been the team for years. The Seahawks are the regional affiliation. The Rangers have had my support for more than 10 years, the Chiefs have as well but play in a different league and Boise State is the newest but college allegiances are obvious and require little explanation.

Amidst cacti, desert palms, sunshine and houses with lawn chairs on their roofs, drives the charter bus carrying media and school officials in search of the elusive resort hotel.

The end to a long couple days of travel seems to approach. The swiss cheese layout of the resort makes finding the room somewhat of a task. Navigating this compound still, mid way through the third day takes a little concentration. But despite the design, it provides a pleasant atmosphere. Hot tubs litter the property. A beautiful, centrally-located pool gives visitors a fantastic place to relax. Poolside sits a Starbucks and both the resort bar and kitchen.

Possibly the biggest perks so far, however, have nothing to do with the landscape. Fiesta Bowl representatives and resort staff take excellent care of the media. Once a journalists picks up credentials and gift (choice of four Nixon watches), he or she has access to several otherwise-restricted rooms including the Manor House -- the resort's hospitality suite complete with what must be thousands of Tostitos brand chips and dips, a fully-stocked open bar, an outdoor fire pit, a multiple-table poker room, arcade games and many different flat panel TVs.

The first two mornings of the trip begin early with player interviews at 8:30. Texas Christian University's offense and Boise State University's defense appear on opening day. They switch the following morning. It's a free-for-all format in which the selected half-dozen or so players and coaches filter to any of six tables that line the room, each in front of it's own Fiesta Bowl-decorated backdrop. Reporters can then progress around the room and interview the athletes and coaches at will. The teams take their seats for the 30-minute sessions an hour apart. An Armed guard sees to it nobody who isn't properly cleared enters the area.

Other than the pre-arranged question and answer periods, the only actual interaction between journalists and players takes place at Scottsdale Community College. BSU opens the first 15 minutes of its practice twice prior to game day. For photographers and videographers especially, strict rules are instituted as to what can and can't be recorded. After the time expires, media must leave and re-entry is prohibited.

The Phoenix Metropolitan area offers plenty in the way of entertainment during the stay. With the credentials come a free ticket to the 50,000-person, New Year's Eve block party. Also, the NBA's Suns, NHL's Coyotes and NFL's Cardinals all play home games during the 7-day trip, but these goodies don't come free.

The charter flight to Phoenix carries both the Athletic Director and the university president. A Southwest 737 does the honors. The flight crew airs BSU's fight song over the intercom system. The treatment on a typical commercial flight doesn't compare to that of this charter. Waiting on the ground for the arrival were two black Lincoln Navigators driven by large men in black suits assigned to carry the athletic director and president. For the masses, two busses park adjacent to the aircraft. Security escorts the procession off the ramp to the main roads.

From 35,000 feet in the air, encased in this Boeing 737-700, it's easy to spot the blanket of clouds covering Eastern Washington and parts of Idaho. Though the holidays claim responsibility for today's flight, they have nothing to do with tomorrow's to Arizona for coverage of the Fiesta Bowl. Travel can't be a foreign concept to an established photographer.

Flying never fails to create memories -- each venture different from the last. After several dozen repetitions of the typical rig moral of packing, traversing security, completing boarding procedures and digesting infamous airport food, a trip from here to there can begin to seem routine. The details make the difference.

Two rows ahead in seats 15D and 15F sit a pair of gentlemen. One, wearing a University of Oregon hat turns to the other and asks, "Are you a Boise State fan?" To the question answers the other, "No. My team is much worse. I'm an Idaho Vandal fan."

As one who covers the Broncos throughout the week and knows well the rivalry between Boise State and the University of Idaho, it proves difficult not to bust out laughing. If by the time the jet touches down, nothing surpasses this small, casual, verbal exchange, it will define this short flight.

Incidentally and somewhat ironically, both aforementioned teams have losses to Boise State this season. The Broncos dish out one of the Ducks (PAC-10 champions) pair of losses, and smoke the Vandals in no unusual style.

December 14, 2009 -- A Moment of Focus on the Round Ball

Around this time of year, the basketball and football seasons begin to overlap. This means those photography skills which have been developing on the field all year now need to transfer to the court. To further complicate the problem, venues, goals and rules change as well.

A photographer shooting basketball can expect to hold the camera vertically most of the time. This can prove painfull the next day, if not by the end of the game, without proper equipment. Vertical grips provide essential relief when photographing basketball and need to top the research list. Professional cameras come with this capability but most others do not.

Second, the sideline wandering of football has no place in basketball. Those hoping to roam free need to do so in the stadium aisles and entrances. For floor shots, almost always, taped squares on diagonal ends of the court hold photographers either sitting, or squatting of some sort. Even in less formal arrangements without tape or assigned seating, the body postions remain the same, and take their toll. After a complete game of shooting, expect a a sore back often appears. For extended shoots or double-headers, foam stadium seats provide support on the spine.

Finally, photographers who look at the game clock and assume the second half (NCAA rules) will pass in relatively the same fashion as the first half have been failed by their research. A college contest takes 40 minutes according to the scoreboard. In reality, it's one, 20-minutes half followed by a 19-minute half with a 10-minute final 60 seconds -- or at least is seems that way. Photographers must be careful when texting editors, reporters, friends, or anybody else in regard to deadlines or meeting times. Fouls and timeouts have a habit of stretching the final minute much longer than anticipated.

Some of the better shots from BSU's most-recent home game against The University of San Diego decorate the following few lines. The Broncos came up short in the contest but not by much.

December 8, 2009 -- Taking the Day Off

After a successful regular season of capturing the moment on the sidelines at Boise State football games, the vow to take the final event off and watch from the stands with Ashley, my beautiful wife, comes to the forefront. This final 2009 match-up at Bronco Stadium has BSU nearly 50-point favorites. Sitting, well, standing in the student section behind the rowdiest bunch at the game does not fail to disappoint. High school football has these same types but they don't compare to what the college level has to offer. Finding them wasn't a challenge either after shooting in front of them all season long.

It's nice to finally experience the stories Ashley passes along -- full of hilarious chants, and one-of-a-kind happenings. Saturday's game includes a four-tier, Coke waterfall, running through the row a few feet away, as well as what is undoubtedly the best stadium hot dog under the sun.

The New Mexico State Aggies give about what is expected in the form of a fight, which ultimately allows Boise State to show it's class, taking a knee on the goal line to end the game, 42-7. Several fans leave and watch the final quarter or half from their TVs on account of the frigid weather, but too much is yet to happen for the most dedicated to depart early. The announcer makes an effort to coordinate the field rush planned for the end of the game, but it fails to the amusement of many.

The regular season comes to a close, fans dart to the center of the field and mingle with still-uniformed players and coaches, and find their places for the presentation of the Western Athletic Conference trophy, which head coach Chris Peterson elects to unveil after this game as opposed to the previous game when it was essentially secured. Players take turns lifting the icon, shouting and joining fans in random chants -- mostly the popular, "B C S ..."

Having intentionally left the camera at home, but wanting to capture some of this special moment, the ol' cell phone camera makes an appearance. Below are some of the shots described previously with an additional shot of Ashley with starting offensive lineman Will Lawrence, whose eyes are closing. He does not always look like this. Please excuse the cell phone camera's less-than-professional quality.

Finally, Sunday, during the first 5 minutes of the BCS selection show, it becomes official -- Boise State is to play Texas Christian University (TCU) in the Fiesta Bowl in Arizona, Jan. 4, 2010. As the leading Arbiter sports photographer, if all goes as planned, and there is a lot to plan including securing travel on a charter flight, media hotel arrangements and credential arrangements complete with a background check, like the Broncos, yours truly is bowl-bound.

Be sure to bookmark this blog and check back for a post on how experiencing a BCS game feels.

One of the chief benefits of shooting sports for the Arbiter, Boise State's newspaper, is the access granted to athletic events, including football. There's nothing quite like standing toe-to-toe with some of the nation's most-talented athletes with one eye in the camera and the other watching for that out route that has a habit of landing photographers on ESPN's blooper reel.

Successful sports photography comes with a stiff learning curve. There is more to it than simply understanding how to shoot action and having an idea of camera functions. To leave the game with those "money" shots, means knowing the sport and that means paying attention -- to everything.

Photographers who can predict with some degree of accuracy, what the next play will be, have a huge advantage. In a stadium during the day, sometimes half the field is in the sun and half is in the shade. Knowing which side of the field the play is going to ahead of time relieves photographers of the burden of making the during-the-shot exposure adjustments.

Additionally, the ability to distinguish between a run and a pass play in advance buys a photographer time. Sometimes it allows enough time to adjust the angle for a better shot. There are mnay things which should tip an attentive photographer one way or another -- personnel on the field, field position, time on the clock, favorable match-ups, team tendencies, injuries etc. Including a touch of research about the sport and more specifically, the individual game, when preparing for a sports shoot needs to anchor the pre-game routine.

This season provided great practice for shooting football and thanks to Boise State's potent offense, there were plenty of opportunities to practice capturing touchdowns. After a quick, scan through some of the photos taken from the regular season, a few favorites were selected. They are shown below. Thank you Broncos!

Providence Photography wishes you the best of luck with the BCS this year.