The Jersey Shore

When I say, "Wild", you say "Wood". WILD (WOOD) WILD (WOOD). When I say, "Ultimate", you say, "just tell the story already."

Ultimate- The beach tournament at Wildwood, New Jersey has become the Ultimate event of the summer. There were 440 teams registered, even with some overlap in divisions, that's an astounding number of people on the beach playing frisbee. Mostly the crowd that was once Red Delicious, Donk-a-phant Dance Party, and Stillerman's Beach Blokes became Assume the Wurst, an insult and German-inspired team with grand plans to wear lederhosen and drink from steins. As usual the costumes got left for last and we were a hodge-podge of suspenders and awkward shorts. The steins were cylindrical and aluminum and had American writing them. Outlawed in state forests along with their cousins Stoli and Jose, the steins stayed relatively quiet. The lederhosen that SM and JM wore, those were loud. I sported suspenders modified by Clare with a flowered strip of cloth. My pants were borrowed sport shorts and unaccustomed to the pull that accompanies a good suspender.

I am ahead of myself. I should first describe the accommodations. Alan again let us live in the 8-person tent that has suited the team so well. This year we had a few invited guests and so 8 became 10. Anyone who has spent time in a tent will recognize that putting more people in a tent than the name implies usually doesn't work that well. Even when the tent has two rooms and seems incredibly expansive, a tent has its limits. Assume the Wurst and friends were prepared to test those limits. With 5 on a side, and not a hint of a breeze, we settled on top our sheets and bags and tried to find sleep. Sleep was elusive. It was hot as a euphemism and we were packed in like a similie. I didn't really expect a visit from the sandman, but eventually I turned out to be one of the lucky ones. Some claimed they only received a post card.

Morning came hotly. The mercury at 6:05 was already starting to rise with the glowing orb in the east. The games, the Ultimate games that we'd come for, came later, closer to the heat of the day, and on the soft warm sand just 400 meters from the sea and a whole lot closer to the cotton candy and go-karts of the boardwalk. Assume the Wurst had trophy hopes, but faced a dominant opponent early. Dispatched of quickly, Wurst moved on and notched a victory. As a team we seemed more impatient and less willing to do the methodical work that helped us win last year. The upside was that the highlights seemed more prevalent. We battled it out with a talented DC team, but after staying even early, we fell way behind. The sun beat on. We jumped in the ocean between games and tried to keep water in our systems. We closed out Saturday with a cross-over game victory. The wind seemed to make our throws a little shaky, but we were having fun. Saturday night we gave up on the campground and headed to a motel and a diner. The team spirit was in full force as JM offered up some of his fries with a side of fries.

We lingered on Sunday morning. With a full night of sleep, and a later start, there was time for that sort of thing. I got a prescription filled. We went to the grocery store in waves. Eventually morning turned to later morning and lingering turned to rushing. We showed up for our game late only to be outdone by our opponents who showed up later. We jumped out to a 4-0 lead and then were outdone by younger speedy legs. We took our loss on a day that didn't seem as hot, but would soon turn on us too. In what became our final game, we rolled to a 17-7 victory in the hot, hot sand. At times, the sand was almost unbearable. We were all digging in our feet at every stoppage. On one play, I caught the score and kept on running until I got to the shade of the boardwalk for some relief. It was painful in that burning arches sort of way.

We then went over to watch the finals and reflect on some of our own great plays. HG was a force. In one game, after a rare mistake, my defender turned to me and said, "I think she'd been perfect up until that moment." I had to agree and I enjoy playing with her. I like the way she moves the disc down the field and the way she grinds it out on defense. MB was his usual flying-high self. Two plays in particular stand out. MB called out to me as he was headed up the line. Prone to accepting suggestions, I jammed a throw into the back corner of the endzone. His defender was on him, but he layed-out high and pulled down a big score. There were other great dives, but the other play that stands out was his greatest. He jumped out of the endzone and flipped it back in bounds. JM dove for it and on his way down, speared the disc, not from underneath, but from above, and pulled it in for the score. It was sweet. JM saved a number of discs with that same sort of well-timed grab. It was fun to watch. AH found his dominant sand legs and made the sort of noise that he makes on grass fields regularly with big skies, big D, and general bigness. Alan pulled out a few big hops and big throws of his own and I do enjoy sharing the field with him. The doc pulled out some silky throws as usual and SM kept us focused on our goals.

My personal highlights, some of which are documented on the Youtube included a callahan, a game-ending layout grab for a score with accompanying cramps at the end of day 1, a handblock backed up at the endzone, and some fancy help from my alternating hands. Three times my hands were there to try to help each other out. The first time as I was headed out the back of the endzone, I reached up with my right hand and then changed my mind in mid-air and went with my left to get a little more reach. I was out of bounds, but closer. Later, I reached up with my left hand to catch a disc and as the disc was d'ed off my hand, my right reached up and grabbed it for the score. The final scene of the highlight film and my best play came on a disc from Alan. He threw an outside-in flick that sliced more than expected. I tracked it, reached up with my right hand as I was jumping and then grabbed it with my left hand before falling to the ground. All in all, it was another pleasing, thrilling, wonderful trip to the beach in New Jersey. That's the situation.