In the summer of l976, a youthful goofball named Mark Fidrych blew fastballs past just about everybody with a bat in their hands on the way to a 19-9 record, a 2.34 ERA, and the Rookie of the Year award. America’s pastime grew more and more fun with each start, as the Detroit youngster with a ball cap stuffed onto the hay bale of hair on his head threw strikes, talked to the ball and skipped about the mound like a three year old in an FAO Schwartz.
He was having fun, and so were we. Then he blew out his arm. Tried a comeback or two, but the zip was gone, and hitters he once had in a trance were jumping on his stuff. As fast as he hit the national radar screen, he was gone, a rueful footnote. Dang, Mark. That sucked. It woulda been so much fun watching you pitch for a few more years. (I woulda loved to shoot him pitching, but SI never gave me that duty, knowing full well I can’t shoot anything moving faster than tree sap in the wintertime.)
One of SI’s big sellers every year is the “Where Are They Now?” issue. Where do all these big time athletes go? What is their life after the diamond, the field, the court, the rink?
Some years had passed, so Bird qualified for a “where are they now” treatment. The Bird was back on the radar. SI was wondering where he had flown. The editors conferred. “Hmmmm. Who do we send to take pictures of this zany, eccentric chatterbox of a former athlete who still seems to live in a fantasy world?”
The first time I met up with Mark, he was making a go of it as gentleman pig farmer just outside of Boston. He approached me and the story carefully, as one would who had the experience of the world’s media pounding on his door and screaming for his time and then blowing away like yesterday’s newspaper. He had learned the hard lessons of fame, and exactly how ephemeral all that bullshit really is. So we took it a step at a time.
But he warmed up. Didn’t take long. Mark was such a bubbling life force that he couldn’t hold himself back from engaging. Remember, he used to talk to the frikkin’ baseball on national TV. Reserved is not the adjective for Mark, at least for long.
We talked, we laughed. I got on my knees into a bunch of pig shit to shoot him. A neighbor’s youngster watching the whole deal called him a buckethead. I agreed. Then he called me that, too. Again, I agreed. A pair of bucketheads, out there in the mud.
More years passed. Once again, SI wanted to know about the Bird, and wanted to know big time, like, you know, cover story. “Lessee, Fidrych is still a nut job, right? McNally available?”
This time I went back out there at the behest of my dear friend Mo Grise, now Mo Cavanaugh. Jesus, I miss Mo at the other end of the line. As an editor, she was that wonderful blend of empathy, enthusiasm, love of photography and the engagement of people that making good pictures requires. She’s a mother of two now, with a third on the way, and I daresay, she left the picture game at SI just about the right time. We went up to Massachusetts together, to meet the Bird, along with another feathered creature, Sesame Street’s Big Bird.
Days like that are the reason I have been a shooter for 30 years. Dreams of more days like this are the reason I remain a shooter. Met Mark again, and we just smiled. One more time around the block. Pair of goofballs, out there now with a yellow, nine foot, talking bird.
I also rented some baby chicks, which Mo had a helluva time wrangling, cute as they were. Little suckers are apt to go anywhere. I put the tiny darlings all over Bird, and he got down in grass and played with ’em just like, you know, a kid.
Lost the cover. Lost it to a grouping of the very first iteration of the Dallas Cowboy cheerleaders. (I was shooting for SI, you may remember.) I’ve lost so many covers in my career, I don’t even think about ’em. But this one stung, mostly cause, once again, Bird had ventured. He played the game, opened his door, and his heart, and didn’t get the cover. I felt bad in the way a field person does, that way that a NY managing editor with a regular table at Elaine’s can never know about. You make a bridge, right? You connect. You push a little, prod a touch, and do your job. You come back with pictures, and, on those best of days, something that remains in your heart. A good feeling. Maybe, even, a friend. You never, never promise anything, cause you know how it goes once you drop those pictures into the giant maw of a powerful weekly magazine.
But the promise is there, nonetheless, hanging in the air, the elephant in the corner everybody tries to ignore while they continue pleasant conversation. The cover. Hope I get it. Not for me. Really wanted it for him.
It went away. The story ran, and it was a good story, and by NY publishing calculus, everything was cool. “Hey, he got ink! Who’s he to complain? Story ran, he should feel lucky.”
Yeah, I guess.
It was a good story. One paragraph….
“To feed the hungry furnace of his mortgage, for instance, he now works as an independent subcontractor, laying sewer pipe and doing road repair with the aid of a 10-wheel Mack dump truck he bought in 1986 for $88,000. “The truck has kept the fahm goin’ and kept my life goin,” he says. The other day, though, on a road repair job at afternoon drive time, he accidentally dug into a water main that had been mismarked on the macadam. Which is how Fidrych–perhaps the most famous man in America during its bicentennial summer–found himself standing, forlornly, in the slapstick spray of God’s seltzer bottle. “I don’t know if you evah seen a broken watah main,” he says. “but 100 pounds of pressure through an eight-inch opening, that ain’t no small thing.” No, Indeed, and thus there appeared a geysah ovah Woostah.”
Now he’s gone, killed underneath that damn dump truck. I won’t go to see the Bird again, for another of our ten year reunions.
We had a prop jersey for the shoot. He signed it for me, and I have it framed. He simply said, “To Joe….what it is… Bird.”
Mark was what he was, at every moment. He threw a fast ball right into our hearts, and we loved him for it. Like Peter Pan, he always seemed suspended by wires, floating through a daydream of a life. I’m sure there were dark times, moments and memories. That was never shared with me. The Bird I knew, just a little, was a big kid with a big heart, a cartoon character with a Boston accent, and a slightly, wonderfully cockeyed view of life around him.
The last picture I made of him that day was the Bird walking with the Big Bird, over the hill, and through the grass. Laughing and chattering, as birds do.
Farewell, Mark. Godspeed. What a flight it was…….more tk…..
;
What a shame….. two premature endings.
Maybe the old “good news, bad news” joke is true.
“Good news! There is baseball in heaven!”
“What’s the bad news?”
“You’re pitchin’ Monday night…..”
Hope that’s the case. Rest in peace, Mark…..
May his soul rest in peace. Tragic! But that’s how I guess life dish out it’s destinity!
U tc
correction….destiny
There’s something very powerful about the last image but i just cannot put a description to it..
Yeah…sigh. There’s nothing good about this except the struggle is over.
Mr McNally, this post was probably the best window into what the real life of a press shooter is all about than anything I’ve read from any author/blogger/photographer so far. I’ve been reading for a while but haven’t posted any comments on your blog in the past, but couldn’t pass this one up. Beautiful photos, the perfect tribute to a friend.
Lots of photographers have started up blogs… some of them for sort of of dubious reasons (so and so has “gone 2.0, had to get a blog” etc) but the atmosphere here is really different, and I think this post really speaks to what you set out to do by writing the blog. Maybe you agree.
Can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time to write this down. Will keep reading. All the best,
Eric
Thanks for sharing that heart felt story Joe, in words and in your photos. It’s amazing how we get to know so many of the same people thanks to your talent as a photographer. Makes us remember we’re not just taking pictures but capturing the essence of who they are and preserving that forever.
Thanks.
I think you get much more than a cover for the Bird with this one Joe. A true story that he deserved. I’m from Poland and we don’t play baseball here so I didn’t know Mark’s name til now. But after reading your story I fell like I lost a friend. And this story is written with your magical pictures. That’s why I love your blog. You’re the best modern storyteller for me. Thanx for sharing Joe!
RIP for Mark.
Great, touching, story. Seemed the nicest guy, Mark. Keep it up, keep it going.
All the best!
Funny to see that little chick on your should and a few photos after that a not so small hog on the same shoulder. Kind makes you wonder and question the whole evolutionary theory 😀
Great photos (the last one + the first one = Winner!).
But then, as you read the post, the smile kind of goes away… Tragic. Thank you for sharing that.
Mr. McNally,
I am very sorry for your loss. I am sure Mark’s family very much appreciates your tribute. Thank you for sharing this touching story both in pictues and in words.
Jeff Fay
Madera, California
A beautifully written piece, Joe.
Mark’s is a tragic story – it was nearly ten years before his torn rotator cuff was diagnosed – a career that didn’t have to end when it did. You’ve shown that this was an inspiring story lived by a man who saw past his circumstances to find the joy in the hand he was dealt.
thank you for sharing this
touching… But you should probably fix the last name: Fidrych, not Fydrich (and delete this comment)
Simply beautiful, sir.
Joe,
Beautiful work with the Bird. Can’t forgot my dad watching him with me on TV one day, talking to the ball, pacing the mound, the gangly wind up, the confounding pitches. “This guy makes baseball fun again,” said dad. Had to agree.
-Herve
Thanks for sharing this story, Joe. It was a good read about a good man. Nice ending with the Big Bird photo
Joe- Great photos, and an even greater post. Thanks for the memories..
Ed
Detroit, Mi
Fantastic story, Joe. The ending kinda sucks though. :-/ (sorry, a little levity in sad times keeps us goin’, ya know?)
The images are real winners and your writing continues to get better. You deserve cover stories for NatGeo, LIFE, and SI as much now as ever before. I hope this blog reaches as many fans of you and of The Bird as possible.
Keep up the great work!
Hey Joe,
I think you’ve summed up the struggles of both ‘Bird’ and those that do what we do as succinctly as possible, with heart and beauty. I’m always intrigued by how much time affects our assessment of an image. I’m sure the last shot was great at the time of the shoot/edit. I can all but feel what you must have felt when it came together in the viewfinder. But now, with the tragic loss of Mark, that shot is deeply, heart wrenchingly, beautiful.
Thank you for this post.
Art
Long or short, life is a cloud across the sky. We are honored, no, duty bound as photographers to capture that moment. Joe had Mark. Whose memory do we preserve today?
Blog after blog you make me so glad I met you and have been following your photography and writing. As a Tiger’s fan when Mark arrived on the scene, I always thought of him as the most fun professional sports figure of all time. Thanks Joe for the terrific images and, just as importantly, for the wonderful way you have with words.
Stu
Joe,
Your short little story made me connect with Bird in away no one else I knew could. I feel like I knew the man personally after reading your story and seeing your pictures.
Thank you for giving the man a fond farewell and doing it with grace.
Beautiful as always.
~Chase
This is my favorite post on your blog – beautiful images and a wonderful story. So sorry for your loss and for the loss of a great guy. May he rest in peace.
Well said, well shot, well done. Thanks Joe
Wow Joe,
Beautifully told story in the McNally way, and I really enjoyed hearing about the heart tugging getting the cover/not getting the cover part.
But that last pic? Brought a tear to my eye.
Brilliant,
Frank
Very touching story. You have a gift, Joe. The way that you write brings us all in (briefly) to your world. Thanks for the glimpse into something very personal for you.
All the best.
Loving this story. It’s a shame the tales of making an image could never be captured in the publication that commissioned them. Thanks for writing this one down for us.
Jeez, Joe!
Being a Brit, I’d never heard of Mark Fydrich. Nevertheless, I was hanging on your every word. I can’t tell you how this story touched me. If you ever give up the photography game, you should become a full-time writer. The way you convey emotion and draw the reader in to the story is just wonderful.
Thank you,
Steve
Joe, this may be one of the best posts I think you’ve ever published. The photography is fantastic (love the one with Big Bird and the little birds the best) and your writing is spot on. Well done, sir.
He passed on the same day as Harry Kalas. Guess God needed an arm AND a voice on the same day….
A great remembrance of how fleeting, unpredictable, universal and connected our lives are.
A great remembrance of how fleeting, unpredictable, universal and connected our lives are.
Thanks for posting.
Joe –
You have a wonderful gift to translate life into a static image. Your writing combined with images has a raw and no-nonsense approach that evokes emotion in such a way that your subjects are given worthy tribute to their existence. I remember Mark the first time around and now I’ll remember him long into the future as the person you caputured here.
Thanks for a great story and photos. It just made my day.
Take care,
John
Joe,
Your pictures of The Bird and other birds, as well as your comments were touching and insightful. While much of the persona of The Bird was created by a press hungry for a “feel good” story, he was apparently as simple and refreshing as we all hoped he was. What a contrast with the majority of professional athletes who are so wrapped up in themselves (forget the team, just give me the money).
You did miss one sad element of The Bird story. I think the Detroit Tigers, desperate to find fans, exploited The Bird in a cynical fashion. He pitched way too many innings for a young pitcher, and his body could not take that abuse. He was willing to do whatever he was asked to do, but this moment of fame was doomed to be a short one when his arm (or more accurately, his rotator cuff) gave out. To his credit, he never seemed to be bitter or upset, happy that he had that brief fling with fame. His death was all too symbolic – strangled by the old truck that was his livelihood, all that he had to show for his short time in “The Show.”
A newspaper columnist here recently had some quotes from a man who had hosted Fydrich as a houseguest . He had talked to him a bit about some of his alleged eccentricities, and Fydrich said he never talked to the baseball.
He would talk, he had said, to himself, to help him focus his concentration — encouraging himself, reminding himself of his pitching strategy and such — and while he was doing that, he’d often stare at the baseball he had in his hand. But talk to the ball, no.
But the image of the zany guy ‘who used to talk to the frikkin’ baseball on national TV’ was such a piece of perfect-fit folklore that it’ll probably never go away… especially not now…
Just read the story on what happened. Shitty way to go. RIP. Sorry about your loss Joe.
Love the last shot the most… Thanks for sharing.
CAT
Thanks Joe,
It’s characters like Mark (and you) that make life fun and also show how unfair it can be. Love the photos.
Tom
Excellent post Joe – you truly have a unique gift and its not just behind the camera.
Joe:
Your humanity, your humbleness, and care for your subjects and work is so clear with posts like this. Perhaps we need to focus on the quality of the individuals, not the wins and losses, or covers and short paragraphs. I seem to recall Burt Lancaster in Field of Dreams, when it was noted that Midnight Owen could not play a game in the majors, and how that was such a tragedy, and he remarked, no, if I had not become a doctor and served the community, that would have been a tragedy.
I loved how you humanized the Bird. This is a true picture story, that someone should have run. Thanks for the post.
Bill
Thanks, Joe. A wonderful piece.
Thanks Joe:
Only you could remember Mark like that for us. No bull, all taste.
Joe,
Thanks for sharing your memories and images with us. It’s always a shame to hear of someone’s untimely passing. I’m glad you had a chance to know Mark and be able to share your time together with us.
In a classic example of the coincidences in life, I read the following article in the Chicago Tribune right before going to your blog.
http://www.chicagotribune.com/sports/chi-19-fidrych-movieapr19,0,2568679.story
Quite a eulogy, Joe. For me, you’ve made a rather daunting point. If every photo has a story, and if the story isn’t interesting, or doesn’t grab me, or doesn’t move me, maybe the photo isn’t so hot. Maybe such a photo is just practicing with camera and light — practice for a real moment.
I wanted to comment. I just had to. But I am at a loss for words.
I am astounded.
I hope SI picks this up and Mark gets ink one more time.
What a storyteller You are Joe!
As a swede born and resident, I never heard of this guy until now. I´ve never seen a baseballgame live. But the story gives me a hair rise over my body, if you know what I mean. Best post ever.
Sad. Life throws some pretty tough curves…
My sympathies for the loss of your friend and my thanks for sharing the story.
The last pic is the perfect end to the tale, the heroes walking off into the sunset…
Beautiful.
There is something about the last image. It is haunting, I can’t explain it. I keep coming back to it.
What a wonderful story it brought tears to my eyes. There was never a ball player like him, full of verve and joy for the game, thank you for bringing memories of him back to me.
Great great story, touching to say the least.
-Bob
(Boston)
Growing up in Michigan, I had the honor of watching Mark pitch for the Tigers. A great career and life, both cut too short. Nice tribute.
Mr. McNally – Often your blogs are about lighting. This blog concerning Mark is no exception – it is about the light that Mark brought to us baseball fans, reminding us it is about the GAME of baseball, not about contracts, agents, and personal stats. Mark helped me demonstrate my love of baseball to my son. Thank you for this blog and the energy it contains!
I have to add that I also really love that last picture. Godspeed Mark.
Mr. McNally, I watched the bird in all of his glory, seems like yesterday. Absolutely loved the reverence and insight you gave to the “Bird”. Baseball is a wonderful game filled with memories and emotion; there will never be another Fidrych or another season like 1976. Playing with the chicks is a great shot, look at the eyes and see the man.
I can never forget a valued experience: a person who changed my life; someone I respected and loved for whatever reason; my ability to become a better person because of him. That’s a gift that will never leave me, and he will never be forgotten. Thank goodness I was lucky.
Great Images and a Wonderful Tribute to Bird.
Can’t understand why SI would go with young beautiful full breasted cheerleaders instead of Pig Farmer for their cover
Got spoiled by you Hot Shoe Diary so is that an Octobox in the truck windshield or a shoot through lastolite?
Some photographers avoid the green grass like a plague fearing a greenish color cast to the skin tones and use black cloth all around. What’s your technique?
Lost the cover but I think you found a new business nitch for aspiring potogs, the flip side of Weddings, —> Eulogy shots, ’cause after they have Gone to God, family and friends search for a nice 8 x 10, 11 x 14 or images for a slide show.
Being a Baby Boomer, it seems that everyone is going all around me. Just yesterday my wife gave me an assignment to shoot all our friends and family [got to do something with the word “shoot” or “capture” to make it less agressive]–this was just a few days after she said that I can’t spend any more money on photography until she gets her new Kitchen.
No reason why the Esq Estate Planners and the body burner-grave diggers should get all the action in the high cost of dying.
That was a wonderful tribute to a great athlete and a great man.
Thanks Joe.
Dana
From Boston.
Wow. Great post Joe. 🙂
Damn. Good story, Joe. I’m sure Mark is proud.
Not only is this a great behind the scenes look into the connection between a photographer and the subject, it’s also a very touching tribute.
Thanks for sharing yourself here.
~Sheryl
(Michigan)
Hey Joe, As usual another great post. Being a lover of baseball I liked this story the best. Mark was amazing in 1976 and his joy and enthusiasm was just amazing. He is probably more normal(if there is such a thing) than the majority of ego players that play the game today. ESPN classic(or MLB network) recently replayed that Yankee game from 1976. What an amazing thing to see. The fans would not leave the stadium until Mark came out(about 10 minutes standing and cheering), I’ve never seen anything like it. A very sad day indeed. P.S.- Is there anyway to purchase the last picture so I could add it to my baseball wall? Thanks a million.
You’re my model Joe. Be the best at what you do, be a teacher and ready to share your knowledge, be a friend to any human being, be a human with your humor & practical jokes, and be an angel to comfort others when it needed. Instead of another Joe’s how2 lighting blog, this is a much better & enlighten blog I have to say.
I don’t have to say “Godspeed Mark”, I know he’s already there under God’s wing. Trust me, because a “lowly” being like Joe have such compassion for others, I don’t think God could have is less.
Sam
Ciao, mark ..good game at celestial field .
Thanks for writing and sharing such a beautiful eulogy, Joe..truly touching words.
F
Joe,
I too grew up in Michigan and loved watching The Bird. Thanks for sharing this touching story. I’m sorry Mark didn’t get the cover, but he made a great friend. I love reading your posts. You illumine much more than your than your amazing photographs! I will share this with my non-photog family and friends.
Diane
PS… please bring your Kelby Training tour to Detroit. We need all the help we can get!!!!
nice touch, Joe… what it is…
Joe,
Not only are you a terrific photographer, but you’re a wonderful writer as well. Thank you for sharing your gift.
Randy
Thank you Joe.
Joe,
He was larger than life. You captured him the way I remember. The curley hair popping out from under his ball cap. The big smile….He was unique in many ways. He will be missed.
Howard – Sterling, MA
Thanks Joe,
Great photos, but it’s your writing that really shines here. Mark was special in so many ways, and you captured that wonderfully. Truth is, we need more people like him.
Thanks for a beautiful recollection of your experience with the Bird. I too remember a session with him some thirty years ago. Having to photograph him going through his pitching motion the lanky right hander wore a left handed mitt and perfectly went through the session as a southpaw. I went along with him for a while and then asked him if we could now do it the “right way”. Enthusiastically he obliged. Always having fun he was truly a breath of fresh air.
Joe,
Thanks for sharing the pictures and memories of Mark.
Keep up the good work.
Great story. This should be run in SI.
Great post, great images, and such a sad story.
I’m an independent contractor (dump trailer). I worked with Mark last year on a couple of paving jobs. He was a hell of a nice guy. I couldn’t believe my ears when I heard what happened. Thanks for the great story and pictures.
Wonderful!
Thank you for these great photos and your memories of Mark.
I lived in the Detroit area when Mark played there and he brought so much enthusiasm and fun to the game.
I was the same age as Mark. During that amazing summer of 76, I was a 21 year old aspiring sportscaster near Detroit. Mark and I spent time together, once walking together through the streets of downtown Toronto. He couldn’t believe that i would pay $20 for a silk tie. I needed a tie for an event, and it was the only one I could find in the hotel lobby store. I often thought, over the years, that I wanted to find him in Mass. – to let him know that I hung out with him those few times not because he was the star of America that summer, but because I liked him. He was fun to hang out with. I just found out that he died, and my heart is sad.
My grandpa is also a Baby Boomer and we love him a lot…,
my grandfather is a baby boomer and i am quite proud of his longevity all these years:-.
you have a great blog here! would you like to make some invite posts on my blog?
Mr Mcnally, I am a little late finding your story on the internet but thank you so very much for a wonderful tribute to my favorite Tiger of all time. Mark & 1976 were turning points in my 15 year old life and I have never forgotten the joy of being swept up in Bird-mania in Motown that year.
Mr. McNally,
What a terrific story — and photos. I grew up just outside Boston and was 9-year-old and a Detroit Tiger Little Leaguer when Fydrich debuted in ’76. This was back when you still got real wool uniforms in Little League and ours looked just like the real Tiger unis with the old script “D.” So of course I spent countless days imitating The Bird in front of my mirror in my uniform, and for years have kept his ’77 baseball card on my shelf with his big mop of hair as a reminder of childhood. I was a sportswriter for about 15 years but never met Mark, one of my big regrets. Thank you for taking me back to that wonderful, innocent time.
I remember the “Bird” growing up in the seventies, LOL. He was true youth, along with his memory. I am a 47 year old young man, inspired by, knowing where to go next in life is no longer a question.
We lived in Northborough when Mark was in high school, when he pumped our gas at the local Sunoco station. Always a smile on his face. He played HS basketball at Algonquin Regional HS and I still smile at the memory of his spring-like curls bouncing up and down as he bounded down the court. A great guy who added a lot to baseball and to those who encountered him.
As a New Yorker and lifelong Tigers fan, I didn’t get to see enough of Mark as a player. But there was never anything like his 1976 season, before or since. Yes, there have been phenoms like Vida Blue and Fernando Valenzuela but none had the charisma and excitement of The Bird.
Joe,
Just saw this. What a wonderful story, and great pics! I had the great fortune of being Fid’s ( that’s what we called him) second baseman during his last year of legion baseball for Northboro Legion. Just a tremendous competitor and a guy who just loved to play the game. One poignant memory is of Fid striking out the side in the bottom of the 9th against a very good Framingjham Legion team to get us a one run win. Fid retrieved the ball from our catcher and sprinted to a fan sitting along 3rd base. The guy had been heckling Fid the entire game. He handed the man the ball and said, “here you need this more than I do”! He was a pleasure to play behind and I miss him dearly. So glad to have come across your story. Send me an email. Love to chat with you. He was a fantastic guy!
Cuesta trabajo hoy día que alguien se tome la molestia de expresarse tan claramente, gran artículo, me encanta todo lo relacionado acerca de las novedades tecnológicas, me apunto para ver los artículos más cómodamente, ya teneis una nueva lectora, saludos.
Your writing skills do justice for our cuz we miss terribly but Mark was ‘shared’ with so many folks he DOES deserve a SI cover again and your photos/script so worthy to be included; his spirit and smile linger with all of our love we had for ‘the Bird’.
I remember him pumping gas at Pierces Gas Station in Northboro, Ma.Nice Kid.
A life & baseball career that ended much too soon. He sure filled ball parks and was good for the game. I consider myself fortunate to have gotten to see him pitch a shutout in Yankee Stadium in September of 1976. RIP Mark.
I worked at the Detroit tigers stadium in the bleacher section behind the concession stand. I would watch Mark practice along with the other Tigers before the gates opened up. We became friends and I took them out, clubbing one night to a bar in Detroit, called Mr. Ed’s lounge introduced him to my friends, but everybody in the bar knew who he was and we had such a great time. He was very friendly with everyone so I need to water grass. I think we had too much to drink that night because he had to pitch the next day. Fortunately, he pitched a good game and the Tigers won happy for that otherwise a lot of fans would’ve been mad at me for keeping him out so late my name is Nancy he was a good guy. I’m sorry for his families lost and I recently lost my husband in an accident at work. My heart goes out to his wife and daughter great pictures that you shared. Thank you .