I still remember the first time I tried to photograph a basketball game professionally. The ball moved faster than my shutter finger could react, players blurred into unrecognizable streaks, and I ended up with exactly zero usable shots from three hours of effort. That humbling experience taught me more about basketball photography than any tutorial ever could. Years later, I've come to understand that capturing those epic moments requires equal parts technical skill and artistic intuition. Just last month, I attended the Leo Awards at Novotel in Cubao, Quezon City, where Fajardo received his award kicking off the league's golden season. Watching professional photographers work that event reminded me how far I've come - and how much there still is to learn about this craft.
The foundation of great basketball photography begins before you even enter the arena. I always arrive at least two hours before tip-off to scout locations and test lighting conditions. Most professional sports photographers I know swear by having at least two camera bodies ready - one with a 70-200mm f/2.8 lens for mid-range shots and another with either a 300mm or 400mm prime lens for those across-court moments. The aperture stays wide open at f/2.8 because indoor lighting at basketball venues typically ranges between 1/500 to 1/1000 second at ISO 3200-6400. These numbers aren't just technical specifications - they're the difference between capturing Fajardo's championship form versus a blurry mess. I learned this the hard way when I missed the game-winning shot during last year's finals because my shutter speed was too slow.
What separates good basketball photographers from great ones isn't just technical proficiency - it's anticipation. After shooting over 200 games, I've developed what I call "court sense." I can predict where the action will flow based on defensive formations and player tendencies. This intuition allowed me to capture that incredible dunk during the All-Star game that later appeared on three major sports websites. Position matters tremendously. My favorite spot is baseline, about 10-15 feet from the basket, slightly angled toward the key. This perspective gives me clean shots of drives to the hoop without the backboard obstruction that plagues straight-on angles. Some photographers prefer the elevated mid-court position, but I find those shots lack the intimacy and drama that makes basketball photography compelling.
The emotional moments happen when the clock stops, and these often become the most memorable images. During timeouts, I shift my attention to the benches and coaching staff. The raw emotion visible on players' faces tells stories that statistics never can. I recall specifically during the Leo Awards ceremony how Fajardo's expression shifted from professional composure to genuine emotion when receiving his award - that single shot required completely different settings and approach than the action photography from the game itself. These transitional moments require photographers to constantly adjust both technically and creatively, often within seconds.
Post-processing represents about 40% of my workflow, though some traditionalists might disagree with that percentage. I typically shoot in RAW format, which gives me greater flexibility in adjusting exposure and white balance during editing. My basic workflow involves culling thousands of images down to 100-200 selects, then applying subtle adjustments to enhance rather than transform the captures. The goal is to make the image look like what our eyes perceived, not create artificial drama through heavy editing. That said, I'm not above increasing clarity slightly to make muscle definition pop or carefully cropping to improve composition. The key is maintaining the authenticity of the moment while delivering professional-quality images.
Equipment matters, but not as much as beginners think. Yes, professional gear helps, but I've seen photographers with $10,000 setups produce mediocre work while others with modest equipment create magic. The camera body I used for my first published basketball photo was a mid-range DSLR that cost under $1,500. The lens quality matters more than the camera body in my experience. That said, today I typically use equipment valued around $8,000 total, but that investment happened gradually over seven years as my skills and business grew. Don't fall into the trap of thinking better gear will automatically make you a better sports photographer - it won't.
Building relationships with teams and publications has been crucial to my development. Early in my career, I reached out to local college sports information directors offering to shoot games in exchange for credentials. This led to building a portfolio that eventually attracted paying clients. Now, I maintain relationships with three major sports publications and two team organizations. The access these relationships provide is invaluable - being able to shoot from court-level during warmups or having a fixed position during playoffs makes all the difference. That's how I found myself at the Leo Awards, capturing Fajardo's golden moment that symbolized the beginning of an important season.
The business side of basketball photography often gets overlooked in technical discussions. Understanding licensing, usage rights, and market rates is essential for turning passion into profession. A single image from a significant game can generate between $200 to $2,000 depending on publication and usage. Social media has created new revenue streams too - teams now regularly purchase images for their Instagram and Twitter accounts at rates ranging from $75 to $300 per image. I typically earn 60% of my income from publication assignments, 25% from team contracts, and the remainder from selling prints and licensing existing images.
Looking back at my journey, the most significant improvement in my basketball photography came when I stopped trying to capture everything and started focusing on storytelling. Great basketball photography isn't about documenting every second of gameplay - it's about capturing the narrative arcs within the game. The tension before a free throw, the exhaustion visible during a timeout, the pure joy after an unexpected victory - these moments transcend sports and connect with viewers emotionally. Technical mastery provides the foundation, but emotional resonance creates lasting images. As I continue shooting games and ceremonies like the Leo Awards, I'm reminded that we're not just photographing athletes - we're documenting human drama played out on hardwood stages.