Basketball is more than a game; it’s a teacher, a mirror. Basketball taught me who I am. It taught me that I can take in information and apply it, that I’m willing to put in work. Basketball taught me that when I put my mind to something, I can create anything I want. It taught me to stay in the moment.

This year, I’ll be sharing with the rookies at the NBA’s Rookie Transition Program. My jump to the NBA from high school was at a time before smartphones and social media. In 2025, the basketball landscape looks completely different. It’s easy to get pulled in a hundred different directions. What’s next? What will be said? How do I stack up? The noise is loud. But what matters is what’s in front of you—this moment, this opportunity.

When I entered the League, photography was simply a casual interest—the camera loose in my hand. When I had kids, the camera was glued to me. My kids changed everything.

I realized how little I knew of my own family history—beyond my grandparents, there weren’t photos, no stories captured. There was a gap. I didn’t want that for my kids, so I started documenting everything. From family life, to travel, to moments on the road, everyday snapshots that told the story of where I was and who I was with. The camera became a way of holding on to life while it was happening.

That journey naturally bled into basketball.

Shooting hoops with a Fuji camera instead of a Wilson ball gave me a completely different perspective on the game I’ve lived my whole life. I enjoy being on the sideline now, not as a player but as a fan, soaking in the energy, feeling the anticipation of a play. But I also bring a different kind of vision—I know the action before it unfolds. I know the cuts, the spacing, the rotations.

And more importantly, I know the emotions: the split second when I adjust my headband and refocus, the adrenaline when a teammate drills a clutch three.

When I shoot, it’s more than just taking pictures. I’m showing the behind-the-scenes emotion of basketball—the angle a fan might see but filtered through the mind of someone who’s lived it. It’s a mix of access, instinct and love for the game. That’s why my basketball photography feels personal, almost like you’re inside the huddle even if you’re sitting in the stands.

Photography, like basketball, is all about process. You can’t rush it. You can’t force it. You have to respect each step. You learn the rhythm, you study the light, you wait for the right angle. And when it all comes together, you’ve frozen a piece of time that might have otherwise passed by.

That’s what makes me eager to speak with the rookies. Whether you’re prepping for your first NBA season or framing a shot through the lens, the lesson is the same: be present. Don’t get lost thinking about what’s next or what people say you should be. Focus on the now. Focus on what’s in front of you. That’s where the real growth happens, and that’s where the memories live.

Basketball gave me that perspective. Photography keeps it alive.

To check out CJ’s flicks, follow him on Instagram @masfresco. Photos via Getty Images and Saxon Lane.