Rain changes the geometry of a football match. Reflections sharpen, the grass throws spray, dark shirts separate from a pale sky and every sprint briefly writes itself across the surface. Instead of treating the weather as a technical problem, make it part of the visual vocabulary.
Wait for recurring motifs: water kicked from a boot, hands wiping faces, substitutes huddled under a jacket, a coach leaning into the rain. Those pictures give the gallery a condition, not just a score. Protect the camera, keep the front element clear and resist overshooting; bad weather is strongest when it appears as a repeated thread rather than in every frame.
Rain is useful only if it remains visible. Backlight can turn droplets into points, dark backgrounds can make spray readable and wet turf can carry reflections that disappear in dry weather. Protect the front element, keep a cloth where you can reach it without opening the bag, and watch exposure on bright advertising boards. Most importantly, do not let bad weather become the whole story: faces, decisions and relationships still matter more than the novelty of water in the frame.






