In 2014, I photographed a conference where one of the speakers was former NFL lineman Matt Birk. He said the most successful people he knew, athletes or otherwise, were fanatic about fundamentals.
When Birk started to play center, his coach asked him to come to practice 15 minutes early. He did, and he spent that 15 minutes just snapping the ball to the quarterback.
“If that doesn’t happen, the play goes nowhere,” he said.
Then he went to the “chute,” a device offensive linemen run through to force them to stay low.
Next came the “boards,” which required them to keep their feet apart to stay balanced.
Birk became one of the top centers in the NFL. At the highest level of the sport, he was still doing those three things every day—snap the ball, go through the chute, run the boards.
His final game was Super Bowl XLVI—the pinnacle of the sport. And what did he do on football’s grandest stage? He came out early, snapped the ball, went through the chute and ran the boards.
It was Rus’ first lesson all over again.
I’ve learned it’s important to revisit that.
I was a late adopter of digital photography. My parents gifted me a Nikon F3 when I graduated from college. It served me well for 20 years. Until I could get the same results from a digital camera, I wasn’t going to switch.
In 2004, the time came. I purchased a Nikon D100. I was mostly photographing events for work. I enjoyed the convenience of a digital camera, but I was not overwhelmed by the quality of the photos. I expected more.
A few years later, I went to the Conowingo Dam to photograph bald eagles. The birds congregate there each fall, as do photographers who want to capture their images.
There’s a lot of downtime at the dam. Eagle activity is sporadic and it’s not uncommon to stand there for an hour waiting for a few seconds of activity worth photographing. So I struck up a conversation with a photographer standing next to me.
We talked about photography. He showed me some of his images. They were better than mine. So I asked questions about how he achieved those results, and shared that I was not a fan of the results I was getting with my D100.
What followed was Photography 101—everything I spent years learning in the NIU photo labs.
I listened patiently thinking, “I know that. I know that. I know that.”
And then, “Well, why aren’t you doing any of it?”
And finally, “You are an idiot!”
I bought the digital camera and left it in the Program Auto mode. I gave the camera control of everything and assumed that, since it was a fancy new digital camera, it would make all of the right choices.
No camera does that. It was Rus’ first lesson.
How could I forget that?
I forgot because I wasn’t paying attention. I got lost in the distractions of a busy life. I was taken in by claims that technology could do the job for me. I had gotten lazy.
That afternoon, standing on the banks of the Susquehanna River, I remembered.
My work improved and so did my business. Most important, my photos created memories for hundreds of friends, families and clients.
All because I went back to the fundamentals.
Snap the ball.
Go through the chute.
Run the boards.
This story is one of those that matter—the lessons from The Great Dog Pack that reflect what the Alex Lebovic Foundation carries forward.
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