Rules of the Game: How Not to Lose Your Accreditation in Major Sports
- Serghei Visnevschii

- Sep 22
- 3 min read
If you, like me, love sports photography and dream of capturing shots from a Grand Slam court, this post is for you. Recently, at the 2025 US Open, a high-profile incident reminded everyone that in our field, chance isn’t just about being in the right place at the right time—it can also be a moment of inattention that costs your career. Turkish photographer Selcuk Acar, working for Anadolu Agency, ran onto the court during match point—Daniil Medvedev versus Benjamin Bonzi. Bonzi missed his first serve, and Acar assumed the match was over and stepped onto the court to capture the “final” shot. The result? A scandal! The umpire gave Bonzi the first serve back, Medvedev lost his temper (and received a $42,500 fine for smashing his racket), and the photographer was immediately ejected from the tournament—his accreditation was revoked for the entire US Open. Acar later claimed he acted on the security team’s instructions and was “completely innocent,” but the USTA organizers were unwavering: rules are rules. We’ve already analyzed this situation in detail on the blog, but it’s worth repeating—the cost of a mistake in this profession is extremely high.
At major sports events, there’s little room for randomness. To work at the courts of a Slam or the Olympics, you need to go through a long accreditation process. It starts 3–4 months in advance (or 1.5–2 years for the Games): you register on the tournament website, submit passport data, a resume, photos, and a recommendation letter from your editorial office or agency. The letter states your purpose (who you’re shooting for, where the photos will be published), along with a portfolio of previous tournaments. Organizers assess whether your media outlet or project deserves a place on their grounds. If you’re from a small outfit, you’ll likely be denied. If your social media is full of random content, the answer is also no. During the pandemic, most foreign photographers were denied accreditation, except for top agencies like Getty. Writers had it easier: they could be seated in the stands by the dozens. Photographers? No. We need a spot at the court, and photo pits are always limited. By the second week of a Slam, only the elite remain—Reuters, Getty, Associated Press, and a few trusted freelancers.

Getting accreditation for the Olympics or a Slam is almost like winning the lottery. My first major tournament was the 2017 Australian Open: the adrenaline was through the roof, and the shots of Federer and Serena still sit in my portfolio. And this isn’t just nostalgia: statistically, 90% of World Press Photo wins in the “sports” category come from these events. But with the joy comes huge responsibility. Upon arrival, listen carefully to the photo department briefings: where you can stand, where you can shoot, where you can’t go. The main rule: don’t interfere with anyone! You’re at work, just like the athletes. TV crews are shooting—don’t block them. A player is serving—don’t make noise. Even under the stands or in the buffet area, where everyone mixes, maintain distance and respect. I’ve been a meter away from Nadal, Djokovic, and Alcaraz dozens of times—and never asked for an autograph or selfie. This isn’t fandom, this is work.
One wrong move, and everything collapses. In 2025, at the Tour de France, a photographer ran onto the road right in front of Jonas Vingegaard on the Mont Ventoux stage: he fell, got scratches, and the photographer was immediately suspended for two days, missing the race’s climax. Organizers later emphasized: athlete safety comes first. In football, in the same year, LA Galaxy revoked accreditation from a photographer who used it to sneak in a provocative banner. It might have seemed like a “personal action,” but the club saw it as a breach of trust. There are dozens of such cases—from the Iranian female photographer shooting a league match from a neighboring roof to simple emotional outbursts, like in England, when a photographer made an obscene gesture to fans and almost received a five-year ban.

Selcuk Acar’s story is neither the first nor the last. He is an experienced photographer, but he lost focus and disrupted the match. The head of the photo department will remember this for a long time, and his future accreditation is now in serious doubt. The lesson is simple: always keep a cool head, listen to briefings, and think one step ahead. In sports, your camera is your ticket, but respect for the rules is your insurance.






Comments