Category Archives: Sports

Shad shoots a hockey game

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John likes to challenge his photography skills by shooting sports and as he’s the one with the car, the wallet and the opposable thumbs, I tend to follow willingly.  Don’t misunderstand me, I admire the commitment and stamina displayed by the athletes in competitions and I’m glad that they have a means of channelling life’s emotions and frustrations through the performance and community of their sport.  For those of us who lack the motivation or talent for such strenuous activities, dealing with life’s idiosyncrasies is often a more sedate affair.  There are many other options including reading, writing, puzzles, photography and singing.  I frequently sing along with John in the car when he cranks up the Michael Bublé although lately he’s been going through a classic rock phase and I’ve enjoyed the discordant and often thunderous sounds of AC/DC, Van Halen and Metallica.

Despite my affinity for peaceful or solitary pursuits, there are many other cats who engage in sport to varying degrees.  Tigers like to swim, bobcats like to climb and I’ve even seen videos of servals at the Big Cat Rescue Centre in Tampa, Florida unravelling toilet rolls like it was the most fun in the world.  I know I’m stretching the definition of sport just a tad here but if there were organised competitive grooming events I’d be a real contender!   When we domestic cats are kittens we form teams to practice our running and pouncing skills and as we get older, sporting activities generally revolve around stalking our housemates, jumping on anything that wiggles or catching small furry or feathered creatures.  Don’t judge us, it’s in our genes and unlike humans we don’t have a highly developed prefrontal cortex that moderates our ethical and social behaviour.

But back to human sports and these hockey players  not only have highly developed brains that help them make fast decisions on the pitch, they also have highly developed muscles that give them the strength to propel the hockey ball up to 75mph, that’s as fast as a cheetah.  Each team is made up of 11 players and these particular teams were competing in the Hockey Champions Trophy 2016 at the Queen Elizabeth Olympic Park.  The teams use several substitutes throughout the game to keep everyone fresh and energetic and they often wear protective equipment such as gum shields as I imagine a knock from one of those big sticks would sting a bit!  The ones I really admired were the brave goalkeepers who dealt with balls shooting at them, team members yelling at them and opposing players hurtling towards them with grimaces on their faces, hence the leg protectors, chest guard and helmet!

John goes to see the mountain bikers

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It’s time to get sporty again with the adrenaline-fuelled mountain bikers as they cycled their equivalent of a double black ski slope at the weekend as part of the Aston Hills black run competition.  Just like ski runs, mountain bike trails are graded according to difficulty from broad flat paths to cross-country single tracks and extreme forest roads.  While most normal people try to avoid obstacles of roots and rocks when they’re taking a stroll through the woods, these mountain bike enthusiasts seek them out.  The sport requires endurance, good balance and core strength and is performed anywhere from a gravel road in the Lake District to a sand dune in the Arizona desert.  It seems the larger and more unavoidable the features, the greater the challenge!

It is for this reason that I decided to stay at home and leave John to the high speed outdoor action.  No lethally positioned jutting out branches or sudden vertical drops for me!  Last time I accompanied John to a mountain bike shoot, I came home with dust between my toes and spikes of sticky pine leaves all over my belly.  Don’t get me wrong, I love the woods and the wonderful trees that provide homes for wildlife and give us clean air and water, but last time I had a tick scare and thought I caught Dutch Elm disease!  After much persuasion from John, I finally accepted that only elm trees can be stricken with this horrible sickness but I have since developed a phobia of fungus which I swear is a result of my experience.  Every now and then I get a flashback it sends shivers down my spine, so my lovely John helps by giving me a vigorous brush down, one of my favourite non-food treats.  Good times!

Worthing ….Wind and Kite Surfing Photos

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Hi all John here; Shad has let me loose on his blog page. As most of you know I regularly visit Goring Gap and the Sea Lane cafe to take pictures of the Kite and Wind Surfers.

Several of you have approached me about the pics I take and where they can be found.

Instagram

Flickr

Shadow Photography

If you find yourself on any of my pages please feel free to contact me and I will forward a copy of the picture. If you would like a print then go over to my website where I use Loxely Colour for all my printing.

Shad does the ice hockey

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As I opened my eyes from my snooze in the car I was astonished to see the silhouette of a sofa with tree-trunk legs trudging awkwardly towards me.  I thought I was dreaming about The Incredible Hulk or some kind of giant from Harry Potter but as my eyes got used to the light I realised that it was an ice-flyer as they like to call themselves.  An ice hockey player fully clad in a helmet and face cage, toughened shoulder pads, thick chest protector, padded shorts, hard plastic shin pads and reinforced gloves.  If you’ve ever been to an ice hockey match, you’ll understand that the armour is not for show, it’s for protection against the multitude of safety hazards that put the players at risk of serious injury such as the solid puck that shoots across the ice at 90 miles per hour.

 

John and I were sat on the front row behind a floor to ceiling window of fortified shatterproof plastic and witnessed another safety hazard that seemed to befall many a player.  I lost count of how many faces were squashed up against that barrier because after the third one I winced and shut my eyes every time there was a skirmish.  One of the bravest guys on the ice had to be the referee whose only safety equipment was a helmet and who was regularly slammed into the sides of the rink during play.  But fear not, no cats were hurt during the game and only a few sprains and bruises were sustained by the players who were all willing participants in the match.  In fact, judging by the wonky smiles and animated man-hugs, they quite enjoyed it.

 

The same could be said for the crowd who hollered and cheered at the slightest hint of a clash on the ice and were enthralled whenever the puck was shot through their opponents’ goal.  Even more baffling than the blood-thirstiness of the onlookers was the bizarre off-the-rink contest that appeared to be going on to see who could tolerate wearing the least amount of clothes.  Considering we were in Kitzbuhel (Austria) at the time and the weather outside was snow and -4°c, the urge for the men to take their tops off could only be explained by some hormonal imbalance or the human desire to compete.  Luckily John did not succumb to this urge otherwise I would have been most embarrassed (because of the hair on his chest, not the size of his tummy!).

Shad does the British Touring Car Championships

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Rivalry can be seen in many species across many different habitats, like the gibbon in the forest hooting and gesturing menacingly to ensure it is not seen as weak, or the dominant guppy fish in the river that roughs up any other fish who tries to date one of his ladies.  We cats are also known for being territorial and the need to defend our turf against prospective outsiders is in our genes.  The desire to assert ones instincts reaches even greater heights in humans who have found ingenious ways to compete for fun, a bizarre concept amongst the rest of the animal kingdom who compete for resources or survival.  One of the humans’ rituals is the racing car competition, a phenomenon that involves driving powerful noisy machines as fast as possible around a road with a flamboyance that reminds me of the male peacock fanning his tail and displaying his feathers with pride.

The British Touring Car Championship is a prime example of the enthusiasm that permeates through the racing car community and it’s easy to get caught up in the excitement, the thrill of victory, the sense of achievement and the lure of the prize money that drives each competitor to win.  John and I visited the track at Donington Park for the pre-season test which is designed to put the car engines through their paces and establish the order of play for the championships for the following week.  The grid line-up consisted of 32 drivers preparing to do battle at Brands Hatch in cars like the Honda Civic, the Ford Focus and the Chevrolet Cruze.  I hope you’re impressed with my knowledge of cars there!  I guess they make modifications to the cars to change them from sensible modes of transportation to super-charged vehicles built for speed not comfort.

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The track was wider than I thought it would be and the cars seemed to snake around the bends like a loud swarm of brightly coloured bees following each other in a line, looking for any opportunity to move ahead.   The action was fast and furious and the place swapping was impressive with drivers using chicanes and hairpin bends to take the place of the car in front.  I curled my toes at the perilous moves the drivers made to be the best in their game and was grateful for the large expanses of grass and sand and the multiple barriers between the track and the crowd.

While the cars were racing, John practiced his panning skills which involves moving the camera horizontally to capture a travelling object, emphasising that object against the other elements in the frame to elicit the feeling of motion.  It was a fun day full of healthy competition and the humans behaved themselves well, smiling, shaking hands and celebrating with glasses of sweet water and strange smelling foods.  Some of the children wore ear protection gear to shield their ears from the noise and I experienced a little ear muff envy on the way home so John promised me he’d get me soft pair of ear covers for my birthday in my favourite colour purple, ideal for keeping my auricles warm in the winter.

Shad does the X-games 2016 in Norway

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The X-games is a high energy annual sporting event that brings together some of the fittest and most daring athletes from the across the world to compete for medals and prize money by flying horizontally into the air on a wooden plank or hurtling down an icy tube known as the superpipe.   The superpipe looked like an enormous trench covered in thick smooth ice that started way up high in the sky and as you look up to the top, a small figure stands alone getting ready for the ride of their life.  A horn blows and the small figure tips over the edge and begins their descent, faster and faster they loom towards you and the anticipation builds.  The figure swoops across the pipe from side to side, soaring into the air and flicking their body into loops and turns as the crowds cheer them on.  They glide into a jump and it feels as though they are hovering over your head almost pausing for effect before landing effortlessly back on to the ice ready for the next jump.

There were many events taking place during the contest including BMX riding, skateboarding and snowmobiling, all featuring challenges or obstacles designed to test the athletes’ agility and get the adrenaline pumping.  The skiers and snowboarders are judged on who can perform the best trick or get the most height off a jump.  John held on to me to keep me warm while we admired the performance put on by the athletes at this amazing Alpine snow park, 20 minutes from central Oslo.  It is 1700 feet above sea level (that’s 530 metres for the metric amongst you) and offers snow-slopes and chair-lifts for winter sports enthusiasts and a cosy café for fussy felines who need to warm their cockles.

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Although we were only there for the weekend we managed a brief visit to the city opera house, an unusual white building formed of glassed facades and horizontal and sloping surfaces.   The productions of opera, ballet, theatre and music held within reflect the cultured nature of this artistic place.  The tramway system carries 130,000 people a day to their various destinations while peace reigns over the dramatic peaks and rustic forest trails surrounding the fjord close by .  While I was on the plane going home I imagined myself hiking through those rugged mountains like a black panther, roaring at the lynx that tries to chase me, climbing up rocky ledges behind a bleating mountain goat and discovering the long lost city of the Incas.  Oh no wait, that’s a different mountain range, the Andes in South America.  Still Indiana Jones doesn’t have a patch on me!

Shad Meets the lippizaners

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I like horses and I know they like me because I was once kissed by a horse on a fence.  I was on the fence, not the horse, and it was moist and bristly but nonetheless enjoyable.  The beautiful  white lippizan horses you see in these pictures live at the Stanglwirt Riding School in Kitzbuhel, Austria and they did not seem like the type of horse to go around kissing unknown cats on fences.  As John and I arrived by car to the Riding School as part of our Austria weekend, the lippizan horses pranced and skipped in perfect motion from their warm dry stables out on to the snow covered field before them.  I watched their tails swish charmingly from side to side and their manes flow almost magically as they broke into a canter in front of us.

I decided there and then that they weren’t the only ones who could waltz around looking all willowy and elegant.  So when John opened the car door I lifted my nose high into the air and puffed out my chest just as one of the horses looked towards me.  Perfect timing!  With one nimble action I leapt from the seat but unfortunately landed awkwardly on a patch of ice resulting in a minor skid and slight stumble.  Thankfully I recovered my poise quickly at which point I swiftly turned around to hop straight back in the car.  Boy that snow was cold and my knees were wet where I’d hit the deck!

After a marathon licking session my fur was back in place and I was a snug as a bug in a rug, having wrapped myself up in my favourite blanket on the back seat.  I looked through the window and couldn’t help feel a sense of admiration at the stunning lippizaners so impressive with their smooth tresses of hair and muscular frames.   This noble breed is renowned for graceful movements and magnificent physiques, as well as liveliness and good natures.  They are born dark brown, black or grey until the white coat appears between the ages of 6 and 10.  Apparently there are less than 3000 in the whole world so they are highly prized in equine circles.  The horses at the Stanglwirt Riding School were clearly cherished by the humans who cared for them and I could tell by their well-groomed coats, clean hooves and happy temperaments that all their needs were met.  After performing some of their stylish dressage moves, they played in the snow, flicking it around with their powerful legs and chasing after each other.   They reminded me of the lambs I’ve seen frolicking around in the fields at home and I smiled to myself as it occurred to me that I’m not the only dignified animal who likes to fool around for amusement.  I miss teddy!

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Shad shoots the Taekwondo

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Like millions of domesticated pets across the Western world, I have spent many a happy moment sitting on the sofa with my owner on a lazy Sunday afternoon.  Although unlike those pets, I prefer to think of John as my responsible guardian / business partner.  Anyhow, many of those happy moments were spent fudo-dachi with John watching martial arts films such as Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon featuring charismatic film star Chow Yun-Fat or Fist of Legend with famous actor and martial artist Jet Li.  Just so you know, fudo-dachi is a martial arts move and means ‘immovable stance’ in Japanese.  That’s the only martial arts move I can perform but I do it well!  I leave the foot-sweeps and lotus kicks to the experts.

The Regional Arena in Manchester was host to 250 of these experts in October for the 2015 World Taekwondo Federation Grand Prix and John and I were invited to attend by our good friend and professional photographer Mark Pain.  This was my first real life display of Taekwondo and I have never seen anyone kick so high as the contestants bobbed around each other on their mats.  They were agile, nimble of foot and fast, delivering swift kicks to each other and seeming to love it.  The human fascination with combat baffles me but from a purely athletic point of view it was impressive to witness.  We were told that many of these athletes were contenders for a spot in Rio 2016 for the summer Olympics but with 3 days of competition ahead of them, they would have to work for this privilege.

 

The contest matched pairs of participants together in 8 weight divisions to kick each other repeatedly using a combination of flying kicks (known as the ‘roundhouse’), axe kicks (heel drops to the head, yes that’s right you heard correctly) and the fancy spinning hook kick that you see Jackie Chan and Bruce Lee perform on the big screen.  The head, neck and torso are acceptable strike zones and points are scored for landing blows to the opponent while points are deducted for illegal moves such as grabbing, pushing, throwing or attacking with a hand or knee.  I’m still reeling from the axe kick which involves lifting your leg straight up to your forehead then slamming it down on to the opponents head.

Despite being exposed to this exhibition of resilience and strength, I was sure that my toughest move that night at home would be wrestling my teddy to the floor and throwing him in my water bowl.  After all, I am a peace loving cat who is even kind and friendly to the belligerent pigeon that taunts me on the fence in the garden as I wash my whiskers after dinner, strutting up and down with his chest puffed out!  May be I should show him I mean business by practising a few jiu-jitsu moves in front of the window, after my nap of course!

Shad storms the Aston Hill Mountain Bike Mash Up

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I have no idea what a mash-up is but I can tell you that mountain biking is not for the faint-hearted and certainly not for a cat of my delicate disposition.  I got my first clue when the organisers rounded us up for a safety lecture before the event began and I got my second clue when we walked along one of the tracks that the bikers would be descending later and I counted 5 vertical drops along the way.  When John asked me the previous night if I’d like to head up to Buckinghamshire for a mountain biking event in the beautiful woodland of the Chiltern Hills I thought it was an opportunity not to be missed.  At no point during this conversation did he say that great valour would be required.  I think it was the speed with which the riders came down the hill coupled with their proximity to the photographers that set my feline senses on edge.  But I’m a daring black cat with bravado (plus I’ve always got John to rescue me) and I’m plucky enough to rise to any challenge (as long I’ve got John to rescue me)!

Aston Hill Bike Park is a dedicated site for mountain biking located in Wendover Woods on the ridge of the Chiltern Hills, a designated area of outstanding natural beauty.  It features a number of cross-country and downhill runs for beginners through to advanced riders, the more difficult routes being named ‘black run’, ‘root canal’ and ‘ricochet’.  (This was my third clue)!  The tracks are regularly changed to keep things interesting for the riders and the trail designers work closely with the Forestry Commission to ensure that the nature of this beautiful wooded landscape is not compromised by this bizarre human fondness for a burst of adrenaline.

The photographers took their positions as someone blew a loud horn (my fourth clue) and I took a few steps backwards when the sound of tyres bouncing across loose gravel crackled through the forest.  As the noise got louder, riders emerged from the dense canopy of trees down the narrow sloping trails and my nerves were soon forgotten as the riders tore past looking euphoric, some waving madly, others gripping on to their handlebars for dear life.  Then the RAF team cruised past us with apparent ease, twisting their wheels in the air as they flew off the ramps and skidding around bends with their knees scraping the ground in what they call a ‘bar dragger’.  Now I know why one of the trails is called ‘surface to air’.  It was all very high-energy and far more exhilarating than I could have anticipated.  John and I wandered back down the hill to the finish area to talk to the riders as the dust settled and they got their breath back and some of them were as young as 8 years old.  Audacious little tykes looked tired but happy and I was overcome with an urge to nap.  While John carried me back to the car, I planned my marathon napping session for the journey home to the finest detail including position, timing and dream cycles.

Shad talks about the rugby

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This game between the Saracens and the Harlequins at Wembley Stadium was what humans call a ‘grudge match’ following a previous defeat of the Harlequins at the hands of the Saracens.  With record attendance for a club rugby match (in the region of 84,068 people) and enough testosterone-fuelled bulging biceps to give Arnold Schwarzenegger a run for his money, it was an occasion that John attended without me.  The baying crowds and mischievous language would have been too much for a respectable chap like me, plus John doesn’t like taking me to crowded places in case I get lost or squashed.

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Pixe Lott
Pixe Lott

John was so animated about the experience when he got home that I felt as though I had been there and you would have thought it was the biggest event in the history of competitive sports.  I suppose for me as a laid-back feline whose interest in physical exertion is reserved for chasing mice and running between John’s feet to beat him to the kitchen, such fierce opposition around who can catch a ball and chuck it on the floor is confusing.  But I guess its serious stuff when you’ve trained for years and been involved in contests so the rivalry between each team simmered close to the surface.

 

As the players warmed up, the crowd was treated to some music by a young pop-star called Pixie Lott who by all accounts had a very nice voice but had neglected to put on a pair of shoes.  Pixie’s chilly feet were soon forgotten once the match got underway and the spirited players started charging, grunting and head-butting their way towards victory.  There were several stops throughout the game for mopping up blood from various injuries including the occasional stray fist and the unfortunate referee was accidently floored by a Saracen player after being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  In case you’re wondering, the score was 42 to 14 to the Saracens and the poor old Harlequins went home with their tales between their legs (metaphorically speaking).