One big happy family- Complete with the yelling and cursing
My role in the Ultimate of CUA has changed in the last two years as their confidence, their knowledge, and their needs have outstripped my ability to play-coach. Mostly, I've become a well-respected cheerleader with editor duties. I'm generally at peace with this transition as I think it meets the needs of the involved parties.

Yesterday, my connections to the team led to a special opportunity as I got a glimpse of how I fit into a bigger picture. I shared a field with an inaugural member, a few of the past stand-outs, characters, and captains of CUA Ultimate history, including the captain that originally welcomed me into the fold on a cold day more than five years ago. We faced off against the current team in their final tune-up before Division III Nationals. The phrase Division III Nationals tells the reader almost all they need to know about how far this team has come.

The Alums-plus team started well. I don't know if the current team expected us to roll over and play dead or if good fortune found us early, but for a group that had never all played together, we seemed surprisingly in synch. Perhaps, there are a few tricks to be learned after graduation. I think a few people were surprised at how serious the game was taken, as they remembered a lower-key version of this same sport played on the law school lawn, but for the most part the players that arrived to play had continued to play competitively at some level and they knew what we were up against.

We were up against a team that runs a structured offense and can become charmingly patient with the disc if the mood strikes them. It certainly made my heart pound a few times as I chased handlers around through dumps and swings, but it also made my heart sing to see such Ultimate being played. My favorite point, if I can brush off my bruised vanity for a moment, was a point when the traditional handlers were out of the game and the current team still found a way to score. They worked the disc in stops and starts, up the lines and through the dumps, taking only what old tired legs would give them and only what they knew they could manage, until their rising star could find a step (or three to five) and leave this poor guy diving at his heels as they took the half at 9-6.

The Alums-plus made a run after the half to pull to 10-9, but never seemed to sustain momentum again as our deep game was mostly stagnant, our defense started losing too many battles, and the intensity started to favor youth. These words convey a weight unrelated to the game, but one I can't separate from it. In the moment, the sun shone brightly and I thoroughly enjoyed my personal battles and the fight of my teammates, some more out of shape than others. It was a pleasure to be able to cheer both teams, and to have moments that saw 'Tini take flight and even with the sting of loss looming to try to will Frodo to do the same. To be a part of that growth, even in some small way, for a team to know how far they've come and still know that they have UP to go, to have watched so many of these players grow and to watch their games evolve and improve is a very special thing. The weight doesn't come from this game or this loss then, and it doesn't come from that evolution directly. Instead it comes from my own feeling of trying to cling to a torch that I don't want to give up, even if it was a torch that was never mine to pass. It comes from being a step slower, and from fighting my body in a battle that I won't win. The weight comes from having to acknowledge that battle at all.