It happened as I scrolled through the images on my phone.

I was in search of a bio pic for this website; something cute --of course-- but also an obvious visual representation of effortless wit, intellect, and charm.

I skipped through thousands, years (thanks iCloud?) of images of my kids and lake horizons. Even my photos have a well worn theme. But I was stumped to find an image of just me… (This is an entirely other, difficult truth and well-written about mom phenomena.)

I searched the “selfies” category and again, because I am not a twenty-year-old YouTube make-up mogul, but rather a forty-something Midwesterner without a personal blog, design-themed Instagram account or HGTV show to my credit, even these were hard to come by.

But sure enough, hidden in the forest of toothless smiles, rippled water, and grocery lists (yes, I take pictures of my written out grocery lists), there were a few dozen selfies with a striking trope: they are almost all exclusively taken at sporting events.

Sure, most of the pictures are of me with a sidekick: my baseball buddy of thirty plus years at our annual “first Twins game of the season”, my kids at their first ____________ fill in the blank with whatever local team or playoff contest. But there are some of just me.

I have snapped photos of myself in action and at peace, in stadiums.

I have been taking a camera along with me to games (and ski hills--aren’t chair lifts downhill skiing stadiums?) long before they were embedded in our phones. Long before we carried phones. Having not been born with a device in my hand or the impulse to capture every waking minute of my day as if the rest of the world is interested, I find it fascinating that it’s sport that is the catalyst for that impulse: I am here, I am excited, I am happy, I will document this moment.

I document this rite of passage, this initiation. I document the tradition. I document the shared and personal joy I feel at a game. Any game. Any sport.

Isn’t this why we all take selfies at stadiums?