Getting the Shot: How Jeff Lewis Captures the Big Game

It's halftime. Seattle has a commanding lead but needs to finish the job. The sun's coming down, shadows pooling in the far corners of the stadium in Santa Clara. Stagehands roll out a little bit of Puerto Rico. Then, the half-time performer—smooth and sartorial—appears. The crowd roars, the reggaeton beats suffuse the air; it's overwhelming, it's enthralling.The international superstar struts through cornfields, hangs from telephone poles, dances in the streets. He's on a car, floating above the thrum. His weight shifts, he tilts his head to the nosebleeds, to God. He's an idol, he's a man of the people, he's—

SNAP.

Jeff Lewis, sports photographer and Sandisk Ambassador, gets the shot. He's on the 50-yard line, nine rows back, looking at the world through a viewfinder. It's tempting to interpret the photo as representing just a moment in time, that moment, but it's more. It represents a lifetime of study, dedication, and hours of preparation. For Lewis, that shot is one of literal thousands, but it means so much more.

On the back fields

Lewis started on the other side of the camera, playing football through to junior college. A broken leg in high school ultimately prevented him from going any further, but Lewis was dedicated to the game.

“My life's mission was to get back into football,” he said. Lewis speaks through the webcam, not to it, his eyes focused and alert.

Lewis took to photography. As a kid, he smeared oil across canvas, fancied a career as an animator, but photography won him over in college because it represented a way to remain connected to, and take advantage of, the rigor and rhythms of the game he knew.

“I got started shooting peewee football, but even at that level I was one of the only photographers that had played the game,” Lewis said.

His knowledge of the game, the players, their routes, the offense's schema, and how the defense might counteract it, put him in the right position play after play.

“When I'm on the sideline shooting, I want to predict what's going to happen next. Some people are watching the ball, but I'm watching the formation, the coaches, and trying to put myself in the right position for what I think is going to happen,” he said.

This ability to be there for the biggest moments propelled Lewis's photography career to the biggest stages. One day, he's shooting the local junior football championship, then it's high school, then college, then pro football. He gets a contract with the Associated Press to shoot Los Angeles's basketball and baseball teams. But football was always where the passion was.

He's covered multiple football teams for the Associated Press (AP) Content Services. He shoots home games in Las Vegas, but when the team travels, Lewis gets sent on assignment all over the league. He's even been sent abroad.

“Week one this year, I'm in Brazil, shooting next to a retired football player turned photographer on the sidelines and we see this incredible play. Before I know it, I'm talking with him about how I set up for a play, how I shoot through the action to find great moments,” Lewis says. He's beaming, evidently proud. The enthusiasm is infectious, but it also highlights his vision, his credibility. Even on foreign shores, talking with a pro's pro, his methods impress and his photos captivate the viewer.

When he got the call to shoot his 16^th football championship game—on the field, no less—Lewis was more than ready.

The Big Game

On February 8^th, Lewis woke up at 6 a.m., his bag already packed. He'd been in Santa Clara, CA, for a week already, so there were no surprises or snafus. He arrived at Levi's Stadium at 7 a.m., and by 8:30 a.m. was ready to shoot. The game wouldn't start until 3:30 p.m.

“On a normal day, we show up three hours early. For the championship game, we show up seven hours early,” Lewis explained. Those extra hours help photographers prepare for the game but also afford them the opportunity to cover their wide array of assignments.

“For the AP's content team, we're not just shooting the game; it's everything. Corporate events, broadcaster portraits, fireworks outside the stadium, the halftime performance. You name, we shoot it,” he said.

Lewis likened the experience to a day at an amusement park: overwhelming, all-encompassing, demanding, and incredibly fun. This is where preparation, over the course of a season and a lifetime, pays off.

“I can't lie, it's draining, and it's emotional. The first year I shot the game on the field, I cried,” Lewis intimated. When the crowd is roaring, when the stadium is shaking, when the drama of the game bubbles over, it's those hours of prep that see Lewis through.

“I watch both teams practice, listen to their coaches, and I try to take that to the game. If you know what an athlete is trying to accomplish, not just in the game but with their body, with their fundamentals, you set yourself up for success,” he said.

“Even my familiarity with the stadium makes a difference. The last two championship games were played in indoor stadiums, but Santa Clara is an outdoor field. That's a huge difference in terms of lighting and camera settings. But I know how the light falls in Santa Clara, I'm comfortable out there,” said Lewis.

All that legwork means nothing if his gear isn't up to snuff, of course. Lewis trusts the technology to just work, particularly in the big moments. He can't sprint downfield, hot-swapping cameras, following professional athletes for 20 to 30 yards without absolute confidence that his camera will capture the moment, that his card will store it.

“I shoot on three mirrorless cameras, each with 512GB¹ SANDISK Extreme PRO® CFexpress™ Card, but it's honestly hard to fill those up,” said Lewis. “I start before the play happens and shoot through, something like 20-25 frames per second, 90 photos per play.”

Lewis shot more than 10,000 photos during the big game, more than the average game. It's a lot of photos, a lot of data, but Lewis prefers to overshoot. He's confident his gear can take it.

“I've had more camera failures than card failures. I know I can trust Sandisk,” he said.

Framing a moment

It's two minutes to halftime. Lewis sheds his high-vis media vest and shuffles through a security checkpoint, then another. Seattle's cruising, but he's got another job to do. Fans file out, flooding toward the concourse, toward drinks and snacks and the facilities, but Lewis wades upstream. He blends in with the crowd as the first half concludes, watches the stagehands wheel out the set.

He's eight rows back when the performance starts. He can't get an angle for a while; the half-time performer in a cornfield, falling through a roof, dancing on a closed set. But then he ascends the classic cream truck, still smooth, still singing to the people, to the nation. He shifts his weight, tilts his head: to the nosebleeds, to God—

SNAP.

The photo's just a moment, but takes a lifetime to capture.