Queen Elizabeth Park Engagement: Cindy and Ryan

One of the last times I saw Ryan, in more than a passing way, was in March of 2008, in a tiny town called Nobleford, Alberta. I have to say that meeting was associated with huge disappointment. I make it sound like Ryan was the cause, but he was not.

At that time I happened to be coaching the Senior High basketball team for his school and we had made it through the season, playing in tournaments on almost every weekend for months. That March, we played in our final game of the season, losing in the 1A Provincial gold medal game to the school from Foremost, Alberta. It is the hardest colour of medal to win–silver–because you have to lose in order to get it. Even if you win the bronze, you have still come off the experience on a win. Silver is the loneliest colour of all the medals. Bar none.

Our inexperience in this kind of high-pressure match eventually cost us. Even before the game started the players from the opposing team came running over to our bench to exchange pins with us. Apparently the tradition before the finals was for the two teams to exchange school pins–this was news to me! I looked at my brother, the assistant coach, who sat beside me on the bench with a sidelong glance.

“Pins?” I said, looking at him in confusion. “We don’t need no stinkin’ pins.” Formost was one of those teams who was always in the hunt for the championship where as this was a completely foreign experience for us and our school. Although a win for Foremost would have been fantastic for the players on that team, it would not hold a cup of water to what it would mean for the players of our little, private school from Edmonton. Foremost was expected to win–many wondered how we even made it this far. We took their school pins anyway and having nothing to give in return, an act which, for some reason, only fuelled our fire to win. My brother and I each silently vowed to win gold and purge that “finals faux pas” from our record with solid gold. It would be a feat never accomplished by our school and a once in a lifetime opportunity for all the players on the team.

Being in the “big show” with our tiny 1A school was a feat if you think about it. I mean, our school did not even hold try-outs because for us try-outs were pointless. The school was so small that anyone of appropriate gender who showed up to the first practice of the year made the team. Period. No cuts ever because there was not enough players competing for the team. Even players that wandered into the gym halfway through the season got recruited, jerseys sized and names put on the roster. There were so many things stacked against us I felt heady with the excitement of it all.

Ten years prior, I happened to be playing basketball for the same team and for the same school and we were going through a first of our own. It was then that we made our school’s very first appearance at the Provincial tournament –the feeling of entering the unknown was eerily similar this gold medal game as to what I felt back then. I was almost speechless at the fact that we were now on the “big stage as it were”, blessed to be able to participate once again in something I had loved so much in school. This time the stakes were higher–we were now playing for the gold.

What made the moment of our loss so disappointing to me was that the absolute elation experienced by every one of us the day before with our victory in the semi-finals was crushed with this terrible defeat. As far as the score of the game went, we were not even defeated that terribly, mind you, it is just that the defeat itself was so terrible.

The juxtaposition of elation to devastation was a hard pill to swallow.I felt a horrible sensation in my stomach that lingered for a full two weeks.

In the moments after the loss, we wandered directionless back to the classroom that served as our ad hoc change room where we sat in silence. Being the coach I felt the need to speak words that would encourage and support the morale of the team even though my guts were churning and I wanted to cry out against the agony of it all. Our tradition was that before every game I would stand next to my brother at the door of our change room, the players filtering past giving us either a fist bump or a high-five before they hit the hardwood. Now, as the players exited the change room after that last game of the season (for our grade 12 players int was their last game ever) they filtered past again for one final high-five.

I go through this all with you because of all of this, it was Ryan who was the last one out of the room. I carry a lot of great memories of my one season as coach and though not typical of a great memory, it was such a poignant moment I will never forget it. Even though I have long forgotten the words that were spoken the picture remains.

And yes, I just wrote the word picture as a segue into this paragraph. Hey, speaking of pictures, I was pretty honoured when Cindy asked me to shoot their wedding. I met Cindy through her hanging out with Ryan since they have been dating for as long as I have known the two and always thought she was so cute–who knew she would grow up to be such a fabulously gorgeous model as well? (See how I did that–lightened the mood from melancholy to happy, just like that?)

I think I say this every time I shoot, but I had a great time wandering the mean streets of Queen Elizabeth Park with them. Since a picture says a thousand words, I will let the pictures do the talking for me–I think I have already reached my word quota for the day so I will let the photographs tell the rest of the story.

I liked the fact that Ryan for his work builds these benches. I told him we have to take a picture on the bench that he built and I am glad we did.

Uhhhhhggg! Talk about drop dead gorgeous!

These shots always rank up there as my favorite–the kind where I happen to be fortunate enough to sneak a picture of my couple laughing at each other. Those shots are better to me then any posed picture could ever be.

Ryan looking stunning.