October Baseball on 35mm Film

Professional sports and the arts seem, to most, like polar opposites. Personally, I’ve always appreciated the duality of artists’ interests—from Neil Liefer’s beautiful sports photography, to Albert Camus’ love of soccer, one’s appreciation of sports doesn’t have to exist without a love of counterculture and the arts. As someone that grew up playing in punk bands while playing high school baseball, I knew that one interest would eventually overtake the other—and that led to a teenage departure from sports in favor of music, photography and drawing. But the love and appreciation of baseball has never really left.

Baseball is unlike other sports. It is incredibly nuanced, relies little on brute strength and in America, tends to be the most familial. Our love of baseball can often be traced to happy memories with a parent, grandparent, an uncle or a sibling. In my case, my grandmother was that beginning. She not only attended every one of my dad’s little league games in the 1950s and 60s, but excitedly took him to Seattle Rainiers games in South Seattle. Even when she was bed-ridden in later years, I remember visiting her with Dave Niehaus and Rick Rizzs announcing games on the background broadcasts. As a kid, I was lucky enough to regularly play catch with both my mom and dad and even go with them and my brother to the 1995 playoff games here in Seattle. While I didn’t understand or feel the tension and stress of playoff baseball at the time, I vividly remember the shaking, roaring and indoor firework blasts of the Kingdome which have stuck with me since. It didn’t hurt that our seat mates all around were high-fiving and sharing snacks.

Being a fan of a team for decades is arguably hard to justify. Are we rooting for a uniform? A company? A city? The players come and go with regularity, we pay money to watch these guys do their jobs—which is to play a game—and we become fond of these players for how we perceive their personalities, all while never actually knowing them. So how does one truly explain this love to themselves? It’s best described as both familiar and familial. Players tap in and tap out with some overlap so that after 10 years, a roster may be 100% different, but it feels like a continuation of familiar faces. That continues for decades and decades. Here in Seattle, we’ve also been lucky to listen to broadcaster Rick Rizzs for a long time. His voice has graced the Seattle airwaves for over 35 years and his style, enthusiasm and kindness bridges the gap between the glory days of baseball broadcasting and modern times. To many, his voice is a welcome comfort of continuity in an ever-changing city.

I think that we always benefit in asking ourselves “Why?” Why, as adults, do we love this kids’ game? Why does it feel so personal, despite knowing that 40,000 other people in a stadium feel the same? It’s simultaneously one of the most impersonal and personal connections at the root of it. It might also just be as simple as a familiar love in an ever-changing landscape as we age. Whether it’s America’s Pastime or a gateway to our individual pasts, my grandmother always agreed that the last two words of the National Anthem have always been “Play Ball!”

-Zack

These photos were taken on my mom’s 1990s Yashica T4 camera on both Kodak Portra 400 and Cinestill T800 over a few playoff games in October 2025. Developed and scanned by Moody's Film Lab.