Maine Mariners, Bench Twigs, and a Game Winning Shot — Photographing Hockey at Cross Insurance Arena, Portland Maine

I’ve been inside Cross Insurance Arena plenty of times. As a guest, as a fan, as someone who knows the building. Walking in with a press pass felt different.

Not because of the credential. Because of what the credential opens. The infrastructure behind a professional hockey game is its own documentary subject before the puck ever drops.

I reached out to the Maine Mariners media team directly and requested the opportunity to shoot. No introduction. No referral. Just an ask. Bear in mind, the Maine Mariners have a lot of photographer volunteers. I waited my turn. They said yes. Press pass issued, access granted — floor level, most of the arena, everywhere that made sense for a photographer to be. The don’t be stupid areas — rafter catwalk, team bench during gameplay, locker rooms, or get in the way — were off limits. Everything else was fair game, and the team will give you a list of highlight shots that they need for the day. Bring your best game. Hockey is fast.

Before the Game

This is where documentary photography lives.

Goals getting installed into the ice. Zamboni runs laying down a fresh surface. Med kits staged behind the benches. Water bottles lined up. A stack of fresh pucks. The machinery of a professional hockey game being assembled piece by piece before anyone in the stands arrives to see the finished product.

And then — bench twigs.

Hockey sticks lined up in the bench access hallway near the locker rooms. Above them, a strip of masking tape on the wall. Written in marker — “Bench Twigs.” Staged and ready to be grabbed and handed to a player mid-shift when a stick breaks or gets lost in the boards. The moment I saw that label there was no question. That was a photograph. Non-negotiable.

That’s the documentary instinct. While everyone else is warming up their autofocus on the players during warmups, you’re reading the masking tape label on the wall above the stick lineup in the hallway.

Shooting the Game

My first hockey game behind a camera. I moved around. A lot. Cross Insurance Arena is a building I know — the layout, the sightlines, the feel of the room — but the behind the scenes geography was new territory. The team photographers on staff were generous resources. When you’re in unfamiliar territory you ask the people who know. That’s not weakness. That’s how a professional operates.

Hockey is fast. Faster than anything I’ve shot. My instinct as a documentary photographer is to get close and fill the frame. Hockey punished that instinct immediately. Shoot wider than you think you need. Give yourself room for the play to develop inside the frame.

The glass is another obstacle nobody warns you about. It isn’t optically clean like a camera lens element. It’s covered in impact craters — pucks, boards, bodies. It causes smearing and artifacts that a polarizer can only partially address. A CPL helps with reflections. It doesn’t fix the glass itself.

The solution is simple and it takes patience. Find your clean shot holes through the impacts. They exist. You have to look for them.

Pro Tips — The Crash Course

For photographers walking into a hockey arena for the first time:

Arena light is unpredictable and varied. Bring a gray card and use it. If you shoot Sony — the gray body end cap is mid-grey and pocketable. Set your white balance from it regularly throughout the game. It works and it costs nothing.

Bring your laptop. Pro sports turnaround is fast — editors waiting onsite and offsite, images expected on the spot. I delivered via Google Drive in three to four days which worked for this situation. Next time the laptop comes with me and I’m unloading selects before I leave the building. Learn from that before you’re in the room.

Shoot wider than you think you need. Get close when the play slows down. Read the glass before you commit to a position.

The Shootout

The game went to a shootout. One on one. Goalie versus shooter. The whole arena holding its breath.

After a full game of chasing open play at full speed a shootout is a gift — one subject, predictable path, isolated moment. I was ready.

My A7RV earned its position at my side. A game winning shot. Puck visible in a series from stick to net. The Mariners won.

That’s the frame you came for. But it isn’t the only one that matters.

What Humble Moments Studio Brought to the Ice

The game winning goal is in the folder. So is the puck stack. The zamboni run. The med kit behind the bench. The goals going during the game. The bench twigs.

That’s the difference between photographing a game and documenting one. The wire service shooter is hunting the goal. I’m watching the ice crew and reading the masking tape on the wall.

If you’re a sports organization, an arena, or an event looking for someone who sees the whole story — not just the highlight — reach out. The consult is free and I respond within 24 hours.