When shooting the Stockton Thunder hockey games, I’m positioned on the concourse (about halfway up into the stands) or down behind some thick Plexiglas at one end of the ice. Either way, I can’t really hear what the players say to each other (or the refs) because of the distance or the thickness of the ’glas and the general raucous noise of the Stockton Arena.
One can only guess what they say. This is how I imagine how some of their conversations go:
Player One: “Say fellas, those are some mighty fine jerseys you’re wearing.”
Player Two: “Thanks! Yours are awfully spiffy, too!”
Player One: “Sorry if I accidentally bumped you on that last play. It’s too bad these refs are in between us or else I would apologize in a more personal manner.”
Player Two: “That’s OK. I’m sure there be another opportunity to do so.”
Player One: “Well, lets get back to playing this swell game. Give my regards to your mother for me.”
Player Two: “I will, and my regards to yours.”
It could happen.
