The moment I stepped into The Capital Arena in Ilagan last March 8th, I could feel the electricity in the air—the MPBL 2025 season opener was about to unfold, and I knew my camera would need to work harder than ever. There's something uniquely challenging about basketball photography that keeps me coming back season after season. Unlike other sports where you might have predictable patterns, basketball moves at this incredible pace where epic moments materialize and vanish within split seconds. That night, as NEW-LOOK Abra faced Binan and Ilagan Isabela squared off against Sarangani, I realized again why I love this craft so much—it's not just about taking pictures, it's about preserving stories that would otherwise disappear into thin air.
Let me share something I've learned over years of shooting basketball—your preparation begins long before the game starts. I always arrive at least two hours early, not just to secure the best shooting positions, but to understand the arena's lighting conditions. The Capital Arena presented its own challenges with mixed lighting sources that could create weird color casts if you're not careful. I typically shoot with two camera bodies—one with a 70-200mm f/2.8 lens for mid-range shots and another with a 300mm f/2.8 for those breathtaking cross-court moments. During warm-ups, I noticed Ilagan Isabela's point guard had this incredible vertical leap during layup drills, so I made a mental note to position myself near their basket for potential aerial shots. This kind of pre-game reconnaissance is crucial—it helps you anticipate where the action might happen rather than just reacting to it.
Timing is everything in basketball photography, and I don't just mean pressing the shutter at the right moment. There's this rhythm to the game that you need to feel in your bones. During that intense third quarter between Abra and Binan, with the score tied at 78-78, I could sense a momentum shift coming. I switched to continuous high-speed mode just as Abra's shooting guard drove toward the basket—capturing that sequence of three frames showing the exact moment the ball left his fingertips, the defender's outstretched hand just inches away, and the ball swishing through the net. That's the kind of storytelling you can't get with a single shot. I personally prefer shooting at 1/1000s shutter speed minimum for freezing action, though sometimes I'll deliberately slow it down to 1/250s to create motion blur in the players' limbs while keeping their faces sharp—it adds this beautiful sense of movement that static images often lack.
What many photographers overlook is the emotional aspect of the game. The technical stuff matters, sure, but the real magic happens between the plays. When Sarangani's veteran center fouled out with four minutes remaining, I quickly switched my attention to the bench and caught this raw, emotional moment of him slamming his towel down in frustration—the image later became one of the most shared photos from that game. I make it a point to constantly scan not just the player with the ball, but the off-ball movements, the coaches' reactions, even the fans in crucial moments. That night, I estimated about 6,500 spectators were in attendance, and their energy created this visual narrative that complemented the on-court action perfectly.
The technical settings are important, but they're just tools—your creativity is what transforms a good photo into an epic one. I'm not afraid to break conventional wisdom sometimes. While most photographers stick to baseline positions, I often request access to elevated angles, especially during timeouts or quarter breaks. From the media platform above the court, I captured this stunning wide-angle shot of Ilagan Isabela's defensive formation that beautifully illustrated their strategic spacing. Another trick I've developed is using back-button focus while keeping both eyes open—one looking through the viewfinder and the other watching the overall play development. This technique helped me anticipate that game-winning three-pointer from Abra's rookie player with 2.3 seconds remaining—I had already prefocused on the spot where I predicted he'd receive the pass.
Post-processing is where the magic really comes together, and I'll be honest—I spend nearly as much time editing as I do shooting. For that MPBL opener, I shot approximately 1,200 images throughout the double-header but only kept about 120. My editing philosophy is simple: enhance, don't transform. I might adjust exposure and colors to match the arena's actual atmosphere, but I never remove sweat stains or alter the genuine emotion on players' faces. That night, the natural court lighting created these dramatic shadows that I emphasized during editing to heighten the sense of intensity during crucial defensive stands.
Looking back at that MPBL opening night, what struck me most was how basketball photography continues to evolve. The game itself changes—faster pace, more three-point shots, different defensive strategies—and we as photographers need to adapt accordingly. I've noticed the average number of photographic opportunities per game has increased from about 15-20 decent shots a decade ago to 30-35 today, simply because the game has become more visually dynamic. But beyond the technical evolution, what keeps me passionate is the human element—the stories unfolding within those 94 feet of court. That rookie from Ilagan Isabela hitting his first professional three-pointer, the veteran from Binan playing his final season, the coach's strategic adjustments during timeouts—these are the moments we're really capturing. The camera is just our tool for preserving basketball's fleeting poetry.