We don’t have a kid playing high school football.
That seems like an important detail to establish before I explain how Robert and I somehow ended up spending Friday night working opposite sides of a high school football field.
Because neither one of us really planned it.
If you came for the pictures, click here.
A while back, I saw a post looking for parents to help around football, and since Matthew is playing junior high this year, I immediately thought, Robert would probably love doing chains. He could be right there near the field and feel a little more involved.
I almost tagged him and put his name down.
Then I stopped myself.
Because obviously you’re supposed to ask your husband before volunteering him for things. Or so they say. 😂
I thought, I’ll ask him later.
And then, naturally, I forgot.
So imagine my concern when Robert was out of town and he sent a text saying, “I keep getting messages asking if I’ll do chains for the high school game. I don’t even know how they got my name.”
Uh-oh…
I was driving down the road thinking:
Did I do that?
Did I accidentally hit send on the comment thread?
Am I really this tired?
Surely, I did not do that.
Turns out, I was innocent.
Robert had independently signed himself up to help with junior high chains — something I didn’t even know he had done — and when they needed someone for the high school game, they asked him too.
So, for the record:
I did not volunteer Robert.
Robert volunteered Robert.
And apparently he did a pretty good job, because two days later (today) they texted him asking if he would work high school chains every week.
He now has a chains T-shirt.
This escalated quickly. 😂
And Somehow I Ended Up on the Other Sideline
When Robert first asked whether I cared if he worked the game, he told me he could really go either way.
It just so happened that I already needed to meet the athletic director and pick up my photography credentials, so I told him, “You know what? Go ahead. I may just stay and practice. If I get run over in front of the high school parents, guess what… I won’t have to see those parents again.”
And that is how we packed up the family and headed to a high school football game where absolutely none of our children were playing.
The athletic director was incredibly kind when I got there. He showed me where I could and couldn’t stand and helped me get oriented.
But I was still nervous.
I’ve been doing photography for about 15 years. I know my camera. I know how to photograph people.
Football from the sideline?
Completely different animal.
There is an enormous field in front of you, people moving in every direction, officials you absolutely do not want to interfere with, plays happening faster than your brain can process them, and approximately 900 places you could stand while wondering if you have chosen the worst one.
And then I met Morgan Beck.
Morgan is a local photographer with deep Dover roots. She grew up here, her dad taught here, and she has been photographing football for years — all the way up to Razorback football.
Typically when I am new, I look for the most credible source and see if they are kind. If they are, I attach myself to their hip.
That’s what I did with Morgan. Basically, my introduction to Morgan was: “Hi. I’m Felecia. Nearly 40. Fifteen years of family-and-birth photography experience. Absolutely no idea what I’m doing out here. What do we have?”
And she was so ridiculously generous with what she knew.
There was no weird competitive photography energy. None.
It was basically Morgan making me laugh all night while I followed her around like a baby duck trying to absorb every scrap of information she was willing to give me.
I asked questions. Lots of them. “You haven’t been yelled at out here before, have you?” Morgan, “100% yes.”
Comforting…
At one point she teased me because, yes, technically I am not exactly a new photographer.
But that night? I asked questions like I was new…
“Yes. New photographer. “😂
The Things You Don’t Know Until Someone Teaches You
Morgan told me something early in the night that completely changed how I started watching the game.
She said some of the best pictures don’t happen during the great play.
They happen immediately afterward.
And she was right.
That’s when the helmets turn toward each other.
That’s when somebody gets tackled in a hug.
That’s when they high-five, celebrate, belly-bump each other and have these tiny flashes of pure teenage-boy joy before everyone resets for the next play.
I had spent years thinking photography was about anticipating the action.
Morgan reminded me that sometimes the photograph is actually in the reaction.
Then I asked her whether she ever went all the way over to the opposing team’s side of the field.
I didn’t really want to. It felt like trespassing into enemy territory. 😂
She told me she actually shoots from over there a lot because you can make photographs with our own crowd, band and Dover people in the background.
Again: something so simple that I never would have thought about while standing there staring at this enormous field trying to decide where on earth I belonged.
That’s the thing about experience.
Sometimes expertise isn’t knowing some giant secret.
It’s knowing where to stand.
It’s knowing what happens three seconds after everybody else stops watching.
It’s knowing that the opposite sideline might actually tell the better story.
And I loved learning that from her.
A Pretty Good Night to Learn on
It also happened to be a good night to be a Pirate.
Dover opened the 2026 season at home against Lavaca and came away with a 35–27 win.
Matthew Krentz (shhh… I know his family so feeling famous) rushed for 55 yards and two touchdowns while also throwing for 41 yards, and Jacob Glasspoole added another 48 rushing yards and two scores.
And there’s a little history tucked inside that win.
Dover football has had some lean years recently. The Pirates went 0–10 in 2025, and the program’s last playoff appearance was in 2016. I actually triple-source checked that information.
So a 35–27 home-opening win isn’t just another Friday-night score.
For a program trying to build something again, 1–0 is a pretty lovely place to start. New coach. Possibly a new ranking.
And I got to stand down there and photograph it.
Somehow, We Both Belonged There
By the end of the night, Robert was on one sideline doing chains.
I was wandering the other side with a camera and a woman I had basically appointed my mentor approximately ten minutes after meeting her.
The kids were there.
The Pirates won.
I learned more about sports photography in one evening than I probably could have learned from ten YouTube videos.
And two days later Robert found out that his temporary “I’ll help if you’re desperate” chain assignment had apparently turned into a permanent position with merchandise.
So I suppose this is our life now.
We still do not have a child on the high school football team.
But somehow Robert has a chains shirt, I have a field pass, and we’ll probably both be back under those Friday-night lights.
Sometimes you don’t exactly decide to step into something new.
You just keep saying yes to the next little thing, and suddenly you look around and realize you’re already standing on the field. 🏴☠️📷
