
Nine Innings at Safeco Field
A photographer's look at America's pastime in Seattle, from the dugout to the diamond at what was once Safeco Field.
The crack of the bat. The roar of 47,000 fans. The smell of grass and dirt and something unmistakably summer. I don't follow professional sports closely, but there's something about baseball that pulls you in — maybe it's the rhythm, or the way light falls across the diamond in late afternoon.
This collection comes from a Mariners game against the Minnesota Twins, likely from 2017 based on the players I caught on film. I was lucky enough to have dugout-level access that day, close enough to see the conversations between pitcher and catcher, the focused intensity before each at-bat.

Safeco Field opened in 1999 (it's T-Mobile Park now), built to replace the old Kingdome. The retractable roof was revolutionary for Seattle's unpredictable weather, but on clear days like this one, there's nothing quite like open-air baseball with the city skyline beyond the outfield.

The Mariners have been Seattle's team since 1977, through the Ken Griffey Jr. years, the 116-win 2001 season, and decades of hope that this might finally be the year. There's a loyalty here that runs deeper than wins and losses.

From my position near the dugout, I could watch the game within the game. The equipment managers, the coaches reading signs, the split-second decisions that television doesn't always catch.

Mike Zunino was behind the plate that day, the kind of catcher who calls his own game. There's a chess match happening between pitcher and batter, and the catcher is often the strategist.

These quiet moments between innings tell as much story as the action shots. Baseball has a pace that allows for thought, for adjustment, for the kind of strategic conversation you see here.

The umpires rarely get the credit they deserve. They're positioned inches from 95-mph fastballs, making split-second calls that can change the momentum of a game.

The beauty of baseball is in these moments of pure athleticism. The perfect swing, the precise timing, years of practice condensed into a single fluid motion.

Zunino was known for his defensive prowess, the way he could frame a pitch or throw out a runner trying to steal. Catching is often called the most demanding position in baseball, and you can see why.

This is what you come to see — the moment when strategy and skill align, when a player crosses home plate and the crowd erupts. Baseball's individual moments within the team framework.


Baseball is as much mental as physical. You can see it in the way players carry themselves between plays, the focus required to bounce back from a strikeout or error.

The Mariner Moose has been part of the Seattle experience since 1990. Sports are entertainment, and the pageantry around the game is part of what makes it special.

The visiting team that day was the Angels. The red uniforms are unmistakable, and you can see how players from both dugouts watch every play, looking for advantages.

Robinson Canó was in his prime then, the kind of second baseman who made difficult plays look routine. His swing was poetry — smooth, controlled, effective.

The strategic elements of baseball reveal themselves when you watch closely. The lead-off, the timing, the cat-and-mouse game between runner and pitcher.


The concentration required at the major league level is intense. Every at-bat matters, every pitch could change the game.

Sometimes the most telling photos are the details — the worn home plate, the precise positioning, the small elements that make up the larger story.

The game's beauty is in these moments of perfect timing. Batter, catcher, and umpire all focused on the same small space, the same split second.
I'd love another opportunity for dugout-level access. There's something about being close to the action that television can't replicate — the sound of the ball hitting the mitt, the chatter between players, the way afternoon light moves across the field.
Baseball might be America's pastime, but in Seattle, it's woven into the fabric of summer. Even for someone who doesn't follow the stats religiously, there's something about nine innings of possibility that keeps you coming back.
If you're planning a corporate event or need coverage for a sporting occasion, I'd be happy to discuss how we can document those moments that matter most to your organization.
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Based in Port Angeles, Washington · Available throughout the Olympic Peninsula